《Relevance and A World Flying Off The Tracks》 Where It All Begins My head hurts. It really,reallyhurts. Not that I am a stranger to headaches of course. Getting regularly smashed at the pub will do that to you. Still, this level of pain is really something else. Its like a drill boring into my brain. Drilling away, drilling away, drilling away. No relief, no reprieve, no rest. Just that blinding, overwhelming pain, preventing me from moving or even opening my eyes. I smell the dubious bouquet of stale alcohol coupled with the rancid aroma of puke. Did I throw up on myself? God, when did I become so gross? My drinking was always kept under control. The headache finally begins to subside. Rather than a drill, it feels more like my head had become a massive bruise. I open my eyes and see an unfamiliar ceiling. An old ceiling fan hypnotically churns the air over me. I feel the surface I am lying on, an old mattress. At least I did not collapse in a gutter. That would really suck. Looks like a kind soul let me crash for the night. Unless I am missing a kidney. That would suck even more. My joints pop as I stretch and heave myself off the mattress. Huh. No puke on my clothes. That''s a relief. Wait are these even my clothes? And where is that stale booze smell coming from? Better slow down, take stock, get a handle on things. That''s what you usually do when you wake up from a bender. Good advise all round too.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Clothes first. Examining the clothes on me, I realize its a bartender''s uniform strongly smelling of alcohol. There''s a name tag proudly displaying the word "GALLANT" in bright red colors. First of all, I am not a bartender, never was. Second, my name is not Gallant nor am I particularly gallant. I may be a man, but I get ridden rough shod by that bitch of a boss. If only there was actual riding involved. For all her faults, she''s pretty hot. The room is really just a small bedroom. There''s a wardrobe, a small desk coupled with a cushioned chair, a window (closed), the mattress I was lying on (no bed, no bed sheets even, what the hell), a plain wooden doors (closed), a sliding partition to what looks like the bathroom (also closed). Really classy. Like the minimalist approach to home decor. So I am in another man''s clothes, having slept over in his home probably after going on a bender. Well things could be worse. At most I would have to apologize for making a nuisance of myself. If Mr GALLANT was really mad at me he would have dumped me out on the street instead of letting me stay in this room overnight. Hell, with the kind of business I probably gave him last night, what has he got to be mad about? I stretch myself a few more times and walk towards the door. Well, time to make a move. Remember to look appropriately remorseful before my host. I wonder if he had taken the liberty to clean my clothes? Huh. Door''s locked. Odd. There''s no way to open it from the inside? I try knocking on it. No response. With cold sweat trickling down my back, I try the partition. Does not budge. Right. Don''t panic. Slow down, take stock, get a handle on things. I am locked in an unknown room, wearing an unknown man''s clothes, with no idea how I got there. I think I should start panicking right about now. Schrodingers Smart Phone My muscles heave for the umpteenth time trying to force open the door of the room. It was a vain battle that the door so far was winning handily. Taking a step back I rubbed my temples tiredly. Not only was I trapped in an unknown room, my headache was back. It was as if a weight was slowly pressing down on my head. Not quite as bad as when I had just woken up, but nevertheless fairly unpleasant. Well if I was not able to force open the door, maybe there is something in the room that could help me out? Pacing towards the wardrobe, I pull at the doors. No dice. The doors were stuck tight. What about the desk then? Passing over the bare, dusty top of the desk, I inspect the drawers. Locked. No help to be found from that quarter. Groaning under the increasing discomfort of my headache, I collapse on the old mattress. Why not? It was not as if I was leaving this place anytime soon. No. I had to keep trying to escape as long as I still had possession of both my kidneys. This was not the time to be going back to sleep. Forcing my eyes open again, I desperately cast my gaze across the room for something, anything that can help. There was still nothing in the room that could help though. The same old mattress, the same wardrobe, the same desktop PC, the same desk, nothing had changed. Wait, what? The PC. It was not there before. I was sure of it. A positively ancient piece of hardware, it even came with a floppy disk drive and a CRT monitor. But all those details did not answer the main problem raised by the PC. The problem that just a few minutes ago it was not there in the room. Was I going crazy? Did too much alcohol rot my brain? My head buzzing, I cautiously moved closer to the PC. Other than being old, it looked normal enough. Then again, my experiences today were far from what can be considered "normal". Holding my breath, I cautiously pressed the power button not knowing what to expect.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. The PC remained completely inert, its dark blank screen silently judging me. Slumping into the chair, I shut my eyes and collected my thoughts. Alright, either I was going cray cray or I was even more wasted than I initially thought. Assuming that it was just me being completely wasted, the PC suddenly appearing meant that my brain had not completely caught up with the situation I was in. All I needed to do was remember my training. The lessons learned from countless episodes of getting smashed. Slow down. Take stock. Get a handle on things. Alright. The door was still locked. The partition still did not budge. The window was jammed shut. Hold up. Peering out of the window and down on to the street, I realize that I am in a part of town I do not recognize. Not the bad. scabby part either. The neighborhood could be described as rather well off. Clean streets. No hobos or bums lounging outside. Men and women in office wear walking past. There was even a delicatessen opposite the building I was in. Looking at the buildings surrounding my location, I concluded that I was probably trapped on the second floor of a town house overlooking the main road. Mr GALLANT, if this place was his, certainly had money. Well who cares about that. I try opening the window again. Completely stuck. The window had none of those security bars people install on the outside to prevent break ins. I suppose there was no need for those things in such a nice neighborhood. Still that gave me an idea. Moving to the PC, I disconnected the CRT monitor and carried it in my arms. Turning towards the window, I lifted the monitor above my head with a grunt. Between a broken window and keeping both my kidneys, I pick my kidneys any day of the week. As my muscles strained, the buzzing, buzzing, buzzing in my head increased to the point where it was all I heard. The buzzing that was all I heard, from my head, from the room, from the smart phone vibrating on the desk, it was everything, everything, everything. My vision swam and my eyes watered. There was no escape, no escape, no escape from the accursed buzzing, from this blasted place. Groaning, I set the monitor down on the desk and picked up the smart phone. I no longer wondered why I did not see it before. I just wanted the buzzing to stop. "Hello?" I croaked. A flat, vocoder generated voice rasped from the phone, "If you are done vandalizing the premises, then may we proceed to discuss your mission and deployment?" The Man and The Voice Mission? Deployment? "Bluh?"I so eloquently queried the mystery caller. There was an awkward silence before the voice finally rasped, "You smell. I have granted you access to the bathroom. Go wash up and clear your head. We can continue this conversation after that." With a click of finality, the line went dead. ....... Once the mystery caller (captor?) had granted me access to the bathroom, I no longer had any trouble opening the sliding partition. Troubling implications aside, the cold shower did me a world of good, getting rid of the cobwebs in my head and the ever present smell of alcohol and puke over my body. Drying myself, I slipped on the clean fluffy bathrobe that was lying folded by the sink. I was at least now confident that I was not going to be made an involuntary organ donor. As a further plus, the cold shower had also banished by headache. An improvement in my overall situation I suppose. The moment I stepped out of the bathroom, the smart phone began buzzing again. Upon me accepting the call, the voice began speaking without preamble. "Transmigrator. You have been chosen for short term deployment in this world due to the threat of Armageddon. Your mission is classed as low risk and should not take more than 48 hours of this world''s time. Upon completion of your mission, you shall be allowed to return to your home dimension. Do you understand so far?" Oh. OH. I get it. I am obviously still completely drunk off my ass and am having a really messed up dream right now. The dream is basically telling me not to fight it and let it run its course. Still, why should I let this dream have its way? "Sure I understand," I reply, smirking inwardly, "But what do I get in return for this?" The voice does not miss a beat. "Nothing. You have been Shanghaied. Am I using the term correctly?" No. Absolutely not. You, dream smart phone person, are not getting your way this easily. "Then I suppose I don''t understand what''s going on. Not getting paid makes me slow in the mind. I''m funny that way, you know?" I snap back at mystery voice. Armageddon''s at your doorstep mystery voice, not mine. You have no bargaining power here. "Then you will be detained in this room until you understand your situation. Or die of hunger. Or thirst. Whichever comes first."Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Hey! Isn''t that escalating things a bit too quickly? "Don''t you need me to save your world?" I retort, "Pretty sure you don''t have all that much time to waste." Mystery voice''s response drips with smugness. "Armageddon has been estimated to occur a year from now. As the mission only takes at most 48 hours to complete, I have more than enough time to secure another transmigrator in the event you refuse to cooperate. So, to answer your question, yes, I do have that much time to waste." I slump onto the chair by the desk defeated. You are really into face slapping huh dream? What did I do to deserve this? "Alright. I get the idea. Continue with your briefing, or whatever this is." I grumble. ....... The ancient computer boots up and the screen flickers to life. It starts scrolling through photos of battlefields, destroyed cities, massive armies of people on the march and what in the world are those things? The voice explains, "At the turn of the millennium, the Heavenly Host descended to build the City of God. The Legions of Hell rose to claim their place in the world of man. Humanity was trapped between these two forces." The slide show continues with more scenes of devastation. "While some humans chose to submit to either of these supernatural forces, most of humanity refused to give up their independence. They fought, and died. Against angels and demons of myth, humanity''s strength was found wanting." The screen now shows a photo of a group of old men standing under the banner of the United Nations. The voice continues, "With unequivocal defeat looming, the UN P5 made a fateful decision. The P5 would unleash a volley of nuclear strikes against Host and Legion forces, regardless of the cost in blood or to the environment. They would also deliver an ultimatum to both the Host and Legion. Stop the war or we shall unleash our entire stockpile of nuclear weapons, dooming the world to a centuries long nuclear winter." A map of the world is drawn on the screen, with mushroom clouds erupting across it. "The initial nuclear strikes stopped the advance of both the Host and the Legion. The possibility of a nuclear winter occurring prevented both the Host and the Legion from fulfilling their respective objectives on earth. All parties agreed to a temporary truce. However, by this time, humanity had been reduced to being the governing authority of a mere 20% of the planet''s habitable land." The map then zooms in on a city...built on the ocean? "Once the truce was signed, the City was constructed using the combined magic and technology of humanity, the Host and the Legion. Built using the ruins of former cities devastated by the Millennium War, it is meant as an experiment in co-existence between all three parties. Unlike other places on earth, the City has a policy of open borders, allowing any human, angel or demon to reside within it. The City also provides an opportunity for the exchange of ideas between all sides, with humans gaining knowledge of magic as well as angels and demons acclimating themselves to living with technology." "However, none of this will last. It already has been 10 years since the signing of the truce. The truce has failed to address the primary concerns of any of the three factions and has only managed to sweep the existing tensions under the carpet. By my estimation, hostilities will break out again in one year and this time, no one will survive." "It is for this reason I have summoned you transmigrator. To turn this world away from its fate." A Mission From God "Alright." I say after taking in the crazy slide show being displayed on the ancient PC. If mystery voice expects me to settle a decade long conflict between 3 opposing factions in 48 hours, I''m probably getting one heck of a cheat ability. Didn''t mystery voice also say that the mission was "low risk"? Come to think of it, in all the examples off the top my head, since when was any transmigrator ever seriously endangered during the course of their adventure? "So don''t keep me suspense here. What cheat ability am I going to be getting for this mission?" I eagerly ask mystery voice. If this dream does not give me a choice in matters, at least I can still try to enjoy myself. "None." Mystery voice crisply replies. "While I will be outfitting you appropriately for the mission, the low risk nature of your task does not warrant the provision of cheat abilities or additional allies." "You expect me to march downstairs and fight the demon king all by myself?" I ask rather flabbergasted. "No powers, no utterly loyal best friend, no battle waifus? I think starving to death is looking like the better option here compared to whatever it is you are asking for." Mystery voice chuckles in amusement, "Ah. I see that there is a misconception on your part as to the nature of your task. No, I do not expect you to fight the demon king at all. That task is for the hero. What I need you to do is to ensure that the hero can fulfill his destiny. This world is broken, Transmigrator. Fate rebels against me even as we speak. The pieces that I have put into play cannot achieve my grand design. That is why I need a complete stranger to this reality to act as my agent. Someone beyond the reach of fate. Someone like you." What. This is getting a lot more complicated than I expected. "Wait. Hold up. You summoned me to this world correct? You were also talking about some "grand design"? Wouldn''t you then be some kind of deity governing this world?" I ask the mystery voice. I hear a rumble of agreement over the line. I press on. "If you are this world''s god, how in the world can fate rebel against you? You are the one literally setting the rules! There''s something you are not telling me." The line goes silent for a moment. At first I thought that mystery voice had decided to cut the call, but then the vocoder''s signature rasp is heard again, this time with the barest touch of hesitation. "My influence has become...circumscribed... for the lack of a better word. While I still retain my power over inanimate objects, the natives of this world can no longer hear my voice. My ability to empower the natives of this world has also been heavily limited. And as I said before, fate actively works against my designs." "Interesting. So that''s how you fixed up the PC after I had disconnected the monitor." At least things were starting to make some kind of sense now. "Yes. Its also how I spawned furniture into this room and cleaned the puke from your clothes. You are welcome by the way." Mystery voice deadpans. "Any ideas as to how you ended up this way?" I ask. If mystery voice here got bitch slapped by a bigger, badder deity, that was a fight I wanted no part in. No way was I going to let this dream turn into a full on nightmare. "I have a few suspicions. But this is really not the time for a lecture on divine metaphysics. Focus on your mission for now." Mystery voice stated in a tone that implied this discussion was over. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. "Fine." I sigh. "Still how am I supposed to address you? You never told me your name." "You may refer to me as Administrator." Mystery voice rumbles as a new window opens on the PC screen displaying what looks to be aerial photographs of a warehouse. "Boring. I prefer Mystery Voice. It has a certain style to it, don''t you think?" Now that my captor had admitted to being less powerful than he appeared, well, its a perfect time for a bit of sass. "Whichever you prefer, Transmigrator." the voice droned back, completely indifferent. Man, way to kill my buzz. Mystery Voice really needs to brush up on interpersonal relations. Maybe that was why Mystery Voice wound up getting bitch slapped? Ah, whatever. .......... The slideshow starts up again, this time displaying photos of what appears to be a large gated compound of warehouses. Towers of shipping containers are planted haphazardly across the grounds. Workers scuttle to and fro like ants. Mystery Voice begins its briefing once again. "This is warehouse compound A5 located in the Welder''s Bay district. It houses 6 privately owned warehouses as well as the thousands of shipping containers you see scattered throughout. The local district government provides a small security force to protect the compound from intruders." I scan the photos on the screen. Sure enough, the compound is surrounded by what looks like a brick wall. The entrance of the compound is watched over by a guard post and protected by a large iron gate on rollers. A few uniformed guards mill aimlessly about at the entrance. A new photograph is pulled onto the screen showing one of the warehouses separated from the compound at large with not one, but two layers of its own personal walls. Security checkpoints had been set up in this separate annex of the compound and the place was being patrolled by what looked like men in really sharp looking suits. It was clear that this area was much more tightly guarded. Scrutinizing the photos further, I realized that the walls allow this particular warehouse to take up almost half the space of the entire compound. The only reason why I did not notice this in the zoomed out photos was because of the towers of shipping containers. The towers were planted just as haphazardly inside the boundaries of this separate warehouse as with the compound at large, giving the overall impression of uniformity. Mystery Voice continues, "The local government allows owners of the individual warehouses to hire their own security should they wish. I cannot determine the owner of this particular warehouse, but surveillance shows that it is protected by a detachment of demons. It is this warehouse I need you to infiltrate." Of course. Still I am getting pretty nervous here. How I am I supposed to infiltrate a demon guarded warehouse without any cheat abilities? How can any of this be classed as "low risk"? The entire warehouse is then highlighted in angry red on the screen. "I have determined that the cause of the hero''s eventual failure is located somewhere within the warehouse. Upon infiltrating the warehouse, you are to destroy the cause of this eventual failure and escape back to this room. Once you have returned here, you shall be deposited back to your home dimension. Any questions so far?" Mystery Voice concludes. Yeah. Plenty. "What is this "cause of eventual failure" am I supposed to be looking for anyway?" I ask. This whole thing is looking more and more dubious by the moment. "I do not know." Mystery Voice replies. "The only thing I am certain of is that it is at this very moment in that particular warehouse." I don''t think you have thought this whole thing through Mystery Voice. The standards for deities have really gone down the shitter. "Then how am I supposed to complete my mission?" I snap somewhat exasperatedly. I then hear a click coming from the wardrobe. "I have granted you access to the wardrobe. Check the backpack." Sure. Whatever. I open the wardrobe and in it find a pile of neatly folded clothes and a backpack. Ignoring the clothes for now, I scoop up the backpack and open it. This better be good Mystery Voice. My eyes widen in shock and my breath comes out in a hiss. I may not be a military fanatic but I immediately recognize the white putty bricks stacked up in the backpack. Mystery Voice triumphantly rasps in my ear, "I have provided you with enough plastic explosives to level the entire building. You do not need to worry about identifying the target." "Just destroy everything." The Relevance of Irrelevance I waive the backpack full of plastic explosives vaguely at the PC monitor while asking Mystery Voice, "So then how do I get all this into the warehouse?" "Tell me Transmigrator," Mystery Voice warbles, "Have you noticed anything strange about your body ever since being summoned into this world?" Strange? My whole day has been strange thanks to you, twat. No. Mystery Voice was referring specifically to my body being strange. Did I notice anything about it earlier? Well I had showered just now, so if there was anything strange I would certainly notice it then. I think back. I showered and put on a fluffy bathrobe. I showered and put on a fluffy bathrobe. I showered and put on a fluffy bathrobe. Then all of a sudden it hits me. I don''t have any impression of my body despite showering. I can''t remember what I look like even after using the bathroom mirror to get myself presentable. I charge back into the bathroom and face the mirror. Don''t tell me I have gotten some bizarre mutation that my memory has chosen to suppress. I look into the mirror and see - ....... Bright light. Its like staring into the clear sky. Nothing but clear sky all round. Nothing to see here. Nothing to see. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. "Perhaps I was wrong not to give an explanation on the metaphysics of this world." Mystery Voice speaks from all around me. "It is easy to forget about something that you usually take for granted." Don''t keep me in suspense here. Better yet, get me out of this void! "Fate is a power in this world. It permeates the lives of every single living being. Every human, angel or demon, no matter how powerful, ultimately is a puppet that dances to its whim. To live free from the dictates of Fate is unthinkable and impossible. All of this reality''s natives, regardless of their personal views, unconsciously accept this proposition as the truth." I hear a buzzing noise in the back of my head. The headache. Its coming back. "As all living beings exist at the whim of Fate, anything that exists outside of its authority cannot qualify as a living being. That is the logical conclusion of the proposition I have laid out."Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. That''s nonsense Mystery Voice. We both know that I was summoned because I am not bound to the Fate of this world. And the last time I checked, I was still drawing breath. "People see only what they want to see. Throw proof in their faces that their most deeply held beliefs are wrong, and they will double down on those beliefs, disregarding anything to the contrary." What does this have to do with what I am experiencing now? I most certainly don''t share those stupid beliefs. Unless you are saying - no. No way. "Make no mistake Transmigrator. Not only are you wearing another man''s clothes, you are also wearing another man''s skin. Mr Gallant''s eyes refuse to accept the reality in front of him. The reality of his situation." The buzzing in my head builds. The headache is not just coming back, its coming back with a vengeance. "You are irrelevant to the ultimate fate of this reality Transmigrator. It is that irrelevance that will protect you during the course of your mission. People have difficulty noticing, or even remembering, something that is irrelevant." Bile starts to build in my throat as a figure starts to form before me, suspended in the clear blue sky. What is that? Who is that? I can almost make it out, just a bit more - "Nevertheless, facts can only be denied for so long. For those of strong will or trained spirituality will sooner, rather than later, break past their preconceptions and see what you truly are. An alien interloper to this world." I try focusing on the figure forming in front of me. But my head hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts - "For anyone else though? Their minds will break. Permanently." My body pitches forward and my vision clears just in time for me to see my puke explosively scatter across the wash basin. ................... I shakily pick up the smart phone that had fallen on the floor. "What did you do to Gallant?" I ask with a quavering voice. "I have made Mr Gallant your vessel for the duration of your stay in this reality. His autonomous control over the body has merely been suppressed to allow you to effectively carry out your mission. Do not worry though. Mr Gallant''s consciousness is fully unimpaired and his spirituality has not been harmed. Once you depart to your home dimension, control of the body will be restored to him. Do try to treat him well." The Voice says with an unmistakable smirk. I understand now. I was not summoned to this world by a pretty, desperate goddess. I will not be anointed as the hero of this world. I will not build a harem of legendary beauties. There will be no gratitude from anyone once I complete my quest. My summoner is an uncaring elder god who sees me as nothing more than a disposable pawn. I have no bargaining power. There is no destiny that will protect me from harm here. The Voice rasps from the phone once more. "I have scheduled your mission to begin tomorrow night. In the remaining time available to us, I shall familiarize you in the use of the equipment that I have provided. Are you ready to begin your training?" "Yes." What else can I say? What else was there to be said? "I am glad we finally understand each other, Transmigrator." Mission Launch I check my gear one more time. Olive green jump suit. Check. Bogus ID. Check. Maglite. Check. Earpiece. Check. Backpack full of plastic explosives. Check. Taking a deep breath I turn the handle of the door that had tormented me from the moment this dream started. And for the first time, the door opens without resistance, allowing me to leave the room that had been my prison and training ground. I make my way down the featureless hallway and take the winding staircase down to the ground floor. The staircase terminates at what was a bar and lounge that was thankfully closed. I had a feeling that making my way through a crowd of drunks carrying a backpack full of explosives was not going to be a very safe or healthy experience, the Voice''s assurances to the contrary. Stepping out through the main door, I idly notice that the joint''s name was "The Gallant''s Rest", was my host the owner of this place? Not that it matters now. A black cab slows to a stop in front of me. I open the passenger door and raise a quizzical eyebrow. There was no driver inside. There was not even a steering wheel. "Self-driving." The Voice explains through the earpiece. "Are you ready?" I climb into the cab and say, more to myself than anything else, "Mission Launch." ...... The cab cruises through the largely empty night streets as I take the opportunity to play tourist. This was the first time my dream had let me loose in this world and I at least wanted to know what my imagination was capable of. As the road took the cab up a small hill, I came to the conclusion that the answer was "depressingly little". Looking over The City, I realized that when The Voice said that The City was built using the remains of its devastated forbears, it was speaking literally. The City was a slap dash of different architectural and planning styles from around the world with no attempt made at harmonizing them together. Each individual district appeared to be crudely bolted on to The City as a whole, causing the roads to have a schizophrenic quality to them. Narrow alleys would suddenly inflate into massive four lanes. Hard right angles would veer off into sweeping ring roads. All this chaos was held together by a web of new, ultra modern construction. Elevated mag rail lines shuttled people between the districts. Broad, well maintained highways allowed cars to avoid much of the directional chaos. And inter spaced between the individual districts were shining high rises, titans made out of steel and glass. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. It was these modern titans that dominated The City''s skyline. And holding court over them all was a massive structure that started with a broad base and climbed the sky until it tapered off to a needle point. Painted in the purest white, it was illuminated by a battery of lights that gave it a golden halo, casting a shadow across all the other skyscrapers. It was as if all the other buildings in The City were paying obeisance to their ruler. "Ascension Tower. Or as the locals call it, The Tower That Pierces Heaven." The Voice rumbles in my ear. "Headquarters of all Host operations worldwide. You will not find an angel on this world that has not been inside there at least once." "What about that little thing about pride then?" I ask. "Angels have fallen to earth for more than a decade now. Nobody cares about those things anymore." The cab veers onto the coastal highway, cutting a path through the darkness of the night. .... Several fleets worth of cargo ships rest anchored across the artificial bay, lights blinking. Tugboats hauling barges loaded with containers make their way back to the massive port in the distance. At least as far as the logistics business was concerned, The City did not sleep. "So many ships." I murmur. "The City has no local natural resources other than fish. It has to import almost all of its needs. The City also exports massive quantities of high end manufactured and luxury goods as well as magical products to feed itself. That makes Welder''s Bay one of the busiest districts." The Voice says. The cab finally comes to a stop before a moorish styled clock tower in the middle of a roundabout. The Voice continues, "The warehouse compound is just a 5 minute walk around the corner. You will disembark here and make your way to the target site. Once you have completed your mission, you will return here for extraction." "Why can''t you just drop me off at the compound?" I ask The Voice. "I do not want this vehicle to be identified. After extracting you, I will still need to transport you back to the room before this mission can be regarded as complete. I wish to minimize the possible chance of interception." The Voice explains as I climb out of the cab. As the cab drives off into the night, I remark, "Hey. Its accepted custom that before a transmigrator is sent off on his quest, a feast is provided to commemorate the occasion." "I spawned you sandwich and a bottle of water before you left the room. Also, you are not being "sent off". I will be with you the entire time." The Voice replies. Despite everything that I had experienced so far, that statement from The Voice somehow made me feel better. Perhaps I did not stand completely alone in this messed up dream. And in no time at all, I was before the iron gate of warehouse compound A5. Tactical Stealth Action I walk towards the iron gate, casting my eyes at the guard house and the pair of guards staring emptily into space at the compound''s entrance. The local government must have been really cutting costs since those guards could only be charitably described as Z grade mall cops. One of them was morbidly obese. I doubt that fat boy was capable of catching any intruder that tried to break into the premises. The other guy looked so old that he belonged in a nursing home rather than playing at being a guard. Squinting a little, I managed to peer into the guard house and saw that there was actually a third guard sitting inside it. Now this guy might be a little trouble. He was middle aged, but looked like he kept in shape. The red armband on his uniform probably indicated that he was the leader of this crew. A man that I had to be wary of. Except that he was sound asleep. I am starting to understand why The Voice kept insisting that my mission was low risk. Well time to get to it I suppose. I run through the plan that The Voice had drilled into me during my training. "The guards at the main entrance are of no consequence. Ignore them and walk past." I make my way to the iron gate and as senior citizen''s gaze sweeps over me, I notice something. His face suddenly goes slack and his eyes become glazed over. He then tries to avoid looking at me, going as far as noticeably turning his head away. Fat boy realizes that something is wrong and moseys over to investigate. The moment he catches sight of me, the exact same thing happens, face goes slack, expression becomes completely blank. Was this what The Voice was talking about? People not willing to accept the truth of my existence? I stop in front of senior citizen and he does a complete 180 to avoid looking at me. Wow. The Voice wasn''t joking about people doubling down on their beliefs. "Stop playing around." A familiar rasp barks out in my ear. Right. Right. But at least now I am sure that The Voice knew what it was talking about and was not just full of shit. I step through the main entrance (the third guy was asleep throughout the whole thing). Well that is stage 1 of my perilous quest complete. Now I have to conquer the container maze to reach the second perimeter wall protecting my target. As I wait for a drone reach stacker to trundle past, bleeping away to warn others of its presence, I orient myself in the general direction of the target warehouse and continue pushing forward. Whenever I met anyone in my path, their eyes would promptly glaze over and they would studiously avoid looking at me. It was as if the entire world was in a conspiracy to deny my existence. The only thing I had to watch out for were the reach stackers that were driving about or moving the containers. I would not deny that my "condition" was useful, but it was unnerving nonetheless. After several twists and turns, I reached the second perimeter wall. The Voice had told me that getting past this one was going to be more of a challenge.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. "The second perimeter wall is protected by the demon guards. With their trained spirituality, they will not shy away from your presence. Linger in front of them for too long and they will uncover your true nature. You will need guile to get past them." The demon guard at the second perimeter wall check point looks largely human, completely unlike the impression I got from the horror slide show The Voice had screened for me. The only concession the guard makes to his otherworldly nature are a pair of fluffy cat ears on the top of his head. Combined with his sharp black suit and katana (of course it had to be a katana) hanging from his waist, I dare say that the guard looked quite dashing, and I don''t even swing that way. The guard''s eyes glaze over the moment he sees me. However he does not turn away. Instead I see him visibly struggle to maintain his focus on me. All of a sudden his expression suddenly clears up and his eyes snap onto me, fully alert. "Use their own preconceptions against them. I will provide you with the standard uniform Belial Logistics hands over to its employees. The guards upon discovering your presence will provisionally accept that you are a member of the staff instead of an extra dimensional outsider." "Just like that? Isn''t that a bit too much?" I query. "Just like that. Which would you rather believe: a literal alien to your world trying to break into a warehouse or an employee arriving late for his shift?" "You are late." The guard drones in a bored voice. "I don''t recognize you either." "I''m new here" I reply apologetically. I hand over the bogus ID to the guard. "To drive the illusion home, present to the guards this fake employee pass. It states that you are a drone technician. Conveniently, the drone maintenance and control station is located behind the second perimeter wall. The guards will jump at such a simple answer to the anomaly standing in front of them." The guard grunts after taking a glance at the bogus ID and hands it back to me. He waives me past the check point. However, his eyes are kept pinned on me. I smile nervously. "Just because my jumpsuit has the letters BL does not mean I swing that way man. Not that you are not handsome or anything like that." The guard''s lips quirk upwards and he turns away. I breathe a sigh of relief. Second perimeter wall down. I once more make my way through the container maze, taking care not to stop too long in front of any of the patrolling guards. Aside from a few empty expressions along the way, I make it to the final wall without incident. Despite my earlier misgivings, this whole mission is really just like a tutorial you would receive at the start of any game. I can see why The Voice refused to shell out for cheat abilities or waifus if this was all I needed to do. Alright. Final wall. What did The Voice say about this one? "The guards at the final wall have been instructed to let only a set of known personnel past the security check point. As you are obviously not on that list, your disguise will do you no good here. Thankfully, they have deployed most of their manpower at the second perimeter wall, leaving the guards at the final wall shorthanded. All you need to do is to wait for the guards at the check point to leave to go on patrol. Once that happens, sneak past them and enter the warehouse." Easy enough. I lurk behind one of the container towers and wait for the guards at the checkpoint to leave. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Then I realize something. They have no intention of leaving their post. Tactical Stealth Takedowns "The guards. They''re not moving." I whisper to The Voice as I peek at the security checkpoint from my hiding place. "Impossible." The Voice asserts, "Every night the guards stationed at the final wall leave the checkpoint at regular intervals in order to patrol." "Tell that to them then," I grumble, "It has been fifteen minutes already. I could try fast talking past them? I am still in these BL duds after all." The Voice takes a moment to consider my proposition and unceremoniously shoots it down. "Belial Logistics is just the logistics sub-contractor for this warehouse compound." The Voice explains, "The owner of the building itself has left explicit instructions with the guards on whom to admit and whom to turn away. The guards will not listen to whatever story you feed them." Well, that''s a bust. Just as I was racking my brain for a solution to this conundrum, I suddenly hear a loud pounding noise erupting from the depths of the third and final container maze. The guards immediately rouse themselves upon hearing the noise as well and they file out from the checkpoint in order to investigate. "There. I have engineered an accident involving one of the reach stackers. The way should be clear for you to pass." The Voice says. "There''s still one guard left at the checkpoint." I protest, "Can''t you do something about him too?" "You will have to improvise." The Voice flatly states. ...... I examine the guard remaining at the checkpoint. Just like cat man from the second perimeter wall, this guard looks largely human as well. The difference being that this guy has what looks like bird talons in place of regular hands. "Why do the demons here look so human?" I ask The Voice. The Voice responds, "Demons that stay in The City generally make an effort to blend in, usually taking the forms of regular humans. The disguise is however imperfect, leaving behind the animal traits that you have been noticing." "Then what about that weird halo that seems to exude from them? I thought only angels have halos?" I whisper as I begin to creep towards the guard. "That is not a halo. You are seeing their spiritual field. Anyone who has trained their spirituality knows how to compress their soul into a solid core. By manipulating the pressure they place on their soul, they allow their spirit energy to invade the area around them, the same way air rushes out when an airplane door is opened in flight." The Voice rasps in one breath. "Can anyone see that halo thingy?" I query. "Only with specialized equipment. Spirituality is beyond the visual range of this world''s natives." Interesting. It also explains the single bright light I have been seeing in the chests of the demons. I continue creeping towards the guard. He is going to notice me soon. "What do you plan on doing?" The Voice asks. I don''t bother to respond. Eagle Claw looks up and sees me right in front of him. His expression immediately slackens as he tries to overcome the disorienting effect of looking directly at me. In one swift motion, I slam the maglite across Eagle Claw''s head and he obligingly collapses like a sack of bricks. His spirituality flickers for the barest moment before stabilizing. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I grab Eagle Claw by the armpits and drag him back to my former hiding place. Bundling him behind the tower of containers, I snatch up his sword. "From a maglite to a katana. Not a bad upgrade." I remark. "Shin Gunto." The Voice rumbles distractedly. "Huh? Wazzat?" I mutter as I examine the weapon. A wooden scabbard painted to look like leather. The metal hilt had also been painted blue to give the impression that it was wrapped in silk. I get the impression that this piece is not exactly a quality demonic weapon. "Shin Gunto. The type of sword you just stole from the guard." The Voice elaborates disinterestedly, its attention clearly elsewhere. "Hey. You sound out of it there. Everything alright?" I ask concernedly. I still need you to get me out of here Voice. Don''t go running off into la la land before that. "No. Something is wrong." The Voice''s rasp sharpens with unease. "I detect that the layout of the final container maze has changed. The stackers must have moved the containers around while I was driving you here." I begin my penetration of the final maze as The Voice rumbles its concern. "Still," I quip, "The maze shouldn''t be too difficult to defeat right? There are only so may containers that can be moved around." "Getting through the maze is not the problem." The Voice says tersely, "The layout of the maze has been manipulated to create a choke point ahead of you. Be very careful Transmigrator." What? I immediately slow my pace and take an experimental peek from around the corner. Nothing so far. I press onwards, carefully checking every corner. A few turns later I see what The Voice was talking about. Ahead of me is a junction with two guards standing right in the middle of it. This is all far too suspicious. "Did anyone know that I was coming tonight?" I hiss to The Voice. Things were escalating far too quickly for my taste. "No. There has been nothing that could have alerted the guards to your presence or to this mission. Yet from the data that I have extracted from the guards'' computers, I see last minute patrol changes and alterations as to how the containers are to be organized. I suspect the hand of Fate in this. " The Voice spits out, frustration self-evident. So the guards don''t actually know that I am here then? Well, as long as I get the timing right, getting past this choke point should be possible. Taking a deep breath, I draw the katana, no the shin gunto, from its scabbard and run towards the two guards blocking my path. The guards hear me before they see me and their hands close in on the hilts of their own swords. Their eyes narrow as they focus on the threat approaching them. And it happens again. Both guards begin impotently spazzing out, unable to react to my presence. I take my sword in a double handed grip and swing it towards the neck of the first guard. It strikes cleanly, decapitating him in an instant. The second guard does not respond as his eyes desperately try to regain their focus. Taking another deep breath, I deliver a repeat performance to the second guard who falls to the ground in a bloody, headless heap. "Behind you!" The Voice barks in alarm. I turn around and see a third guard that had been approaching me from the rear. Number Three was in the mid stride before his facial expression went completely blank. I rush at him in a panic and stab forward with the sword. The blade plunges through the glowing core in his chest and his entire body loses power at once. Close. Too close. That was clearly an ambush. If it was not for The Voice''s warnings and my "condition", I would have been chopped into pieces by those three guards. I wipe off the sweat that had gotten into my eyes with my arm. The spirituality of the fallen guards rapidly begins to fade. No way are those guys getting back up. Remember. Its just a dream. Its all just a dream. No time to waste. The longer I stay here, the riskier it becomes. I conquer the final stretch of the container maze without further incident and find myself standing before the steel shutters of the target warehouse. "Use the fake employee pass on the sensor by the shutters." The Voice instructs. "I had crafted it as a universal key for all the security systems in this compound." I obligingly waive the card in front of the sensor and the shutters begin to rise with a mechanical groan. My mission was soon to be over. Demon vs Machine The entrance of the warehouse yawns open as the shutter rises. I unhook the maglite from my belt and flick it on while stepping into the darkness. Sweeping the light across the interior of the warehouse, I see rows upon rows of sealed crates and miscellaneous bric-a-brac stored within. While I was tempted to suss out the source of this world''s doom that was apparently right in front me right now, the sheer volume of freight that I would have to go through made that completely impossible in the time available to me. I begin unloading the plastic explosives from the backpack and identifying good demolition spots. While The Voice had provided me with plenty of firepower, it made no sense to waste it. Weight bearing structures had to go for sure. That meant pillars and the like. Prioritizing the destruction of the more valuable looking freight also made sense. The remaining explosives would then be placed to ensure maximum blast coverage. Sounds like a plan. Working quickly, I begin methodically planting the explosives. During my work, I spot a series of paintings wrapped in protective sheets. Grimacing in displeasure, I note that those paintings are of what appear to be cosmic abominations dressed in obscenely luxurious finery. "Who in the world are those guys?" I ask The Voice. "The Dukes of Hell. Ever since the Legion had become a legitimate power on earth, portraits like this have become regarded as fine art. Demons usually purchase them as gifts for humans they wish to impress. You can also find paintings like these in the offices of Legion linked corporations." The Voice responds in my ear. I grunt in acknowledgement as I slap a brick of explosive onto the face of a nudist humping a dragon. There really was no accounting for taste in this world. Moving on, I spot what look like oil drums stacked up neatly in a corner. Oil burns real good right? On goes the explosives. As I complete my circuit of the warehouse, I spot something that makes my eyes light up. Neatly racked on a shelf were several rows of what appear to be marksman rifles. No harm grabbing another upgrade for my arsenal while I am here after all. "Do not even think about it." The Voice warns as I move towards the rifles, "As I have no way of ascertaining which item in this warehouse is the cause of the hero''s failure, I need you to destroy everything." "Seriously?" I whisper back while examining the rifle I had taken up in my hands, "You''re telling me that the cause of the hero''s defeat is being shot. By a rifle. Probably being wielded by a mook." Huh. The barrel is made out of a single length of hollowed out bone. Fancy. "Yes. Seriously." The Voice rasps, "I need to take into account all possibilities here. Furthermore, while those rifles are magical, they do not have the ability to fire without bullets." Sighing to myself, I place the rifle back onto the rack and slap a brick of explosive on the shelf. There. Now no one gets magic rifles. .... "Everything has been wired up." I tell The Voice as I step out of the warehouse. "Good. Now proceed to extract. When you are a safe distance away use the remote detonator I provided you with to level the target." The Voice says. Well, time to wrap things up here. I move towards the container maze once more. All I need to do is retrace my steps and I am home free. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. As I am just about to enter the maze, I hear a groan coming from around the corner. Before I can back up, the source of the noise steps into my view. That source being a man in a suit, rubbing a swollen lump on his head. Shit. Eagle Claw. Eagle Claw stops the moment he sees me. I draw my sword. If he wants to go for round 2, well, I have a dose of sweet murder for him right here. Eagle Claw scowls and glares daggers at me. Hey, why aren''t you spazzing out? You are supposed to be all dazed right now so I can stab you. Then I remember something The Voice told me. My "condition" has a time limit when people with trained spirituality are concerned. Its effects will eventually wear off. Double shit. Eagle Claw''s spirituality flares as he blurs into action. Fast. He''s way too fast. Before I can even react, I feel the wind being driven right out of me as I am sent flying off my feet and onto the ground. As I roll across the ground in a daze, I realize how completely outclassed I am. My stomach sinks uncomfortably. Do I even have a means of fighting back? "Get ready." I hear The Voice in my ear. Get ready? For what? I look up from the ground and I see Eagle Claw approaching my position. Suddenly I hear the roar of an engine and a stacker barrels out of the maze bearing down on Eagle Claw from behind. Eagle Claw''s eyes widen in surprise as his spirituality flares once more. Before the stacker can run him over, Eagle Claw gracefully leaps over it in a reverse somersault. But before his feet can touch the ground, the stacker slams on its brakes and swings its crane arm at Eagle Claw. The crane smacks Eagle Claw like an over sized bat and he is sent flying into one of the container towers. Eagle Claw hits the containers with a thud but lands on his feet wobbling. The stacker then punches into reverse and backs over him just as Eagle Claw takes his first few steps forward. Whoa. "Move." The Voice instructs. I don''t argue as I bolt through the maze. .... As I run as fast as I can, I hear the banging and pounding noises coming from the battle between demon and machine. Hopefully that stacker can keep Eagle Claw busy long enough for me to escape. Just as I am about to reach the second perimeter wall checkpoint, I hear a massive crash coming from behind me. One of the towers must have been knocked over in the fight. Unfortunately, the guards at the checkpoint had also heard the crash. And I could hear their footsteps as they began rushing over to investigate. No amount of BL jokes were going to get me out of this one if the guards catch me. I needed to distract them. I immediately stab down on the button of the remote detonator. There is an ear splitting explosion and the shock wave of the blast sends me stumbling. I risk a look back in the direction of warehouse and I see it being consumed by a raging, rapidly spreading inferno of fire. The Voice had certainly given me enough firepower to level the place. The guards from the second perimeter wall checkpoint rush past without bothering to give me a second glance. .... A few minutes of running later and the main entrance is in my sight. I hear the rapidly approaching sounds of sirens coming from the distance. Pretty fast response time there. I''m impressed. My breath suddenly catches and I feel a weight press down on me. My steps involuntarily stop. A shaft of ice races down my spine. "What''s going on?" I ask The Voice in a panic. "Killing intent. Someone is targeting you with their spirituality." The Voice rumbles. I turn around and see Eagle Claw standing behind me, much worse for wear. His suit is in tatters and his body is covered in wounds. He cannot even stand completely straight. His bloody hands clutch a new sword tightly. And his eyes. His eyes lock on to mine and I feel like I am drowning in them. I can''t look away. I just can''t. And then he speaks. His voice reaches me even though we are standing a fair distance apart. I hear his voice echo within my heart. The Greedy Wolf Pounces. What in the world does that even me - ? "MOVE!" The Voice shouts. The spell breaks and I dive out of the way. But its too late. I feel a burning in my side as I land heavily on the ground. I see red pouring out of me, pouring everywhere. And I see Eagle Claw standing above me, sword stained with blood, a sneer on his face. "Voice? Voice?" I babble. But there is nothing. No response. The line is dead. Voice? I did what you asked of me OK? Send some help. Do something. Anything. Don''t leave me here to die. The Unwilling Listener It is a tale that has been told many times before. A tale of how a world in crisis, hanging on by its last breath, summons the transmigrator, a being of godlike strength to put wrongs to right. The transmigrator receives the privileges of his station, invincible weapons and magic. The transmigrator embarks on a heroic quest meeting fair maidens and comrades of only the finest character. Before the transmigrator''s might, the great evil is crushed, balance is restored and the world rejoices. I am a transmigrator, summoned in the hour of this world''s greatest need. Instead of being granted weapons and magic of legend, I was given a backpack of explosives. I am now bleeding out alone, after committing what would be considered as an act of terrorism. To say I am disappointed with how things have turned out would be an understatement. Well, at least I am not completely alone. My would be murderer looms overhead, ready to finish me off. So being alone at this moment would probably be an improvement. I feel a burning, itching feeling rising from the wound at my side. The sirens that I heard earlier keep getting louder and louder. Eagle Claw smirks in triumph. I see his bloody sword rise again. I close my eyes. ..... The blow never comes. Instead I hear Eagle Claw crumple to the ground. This was someone that could take down a rampaging piece of heavy machinery. What happened? "What a waste of time. Dealing with these weaklings." I hear a haughty voice, a young girl''s haughty voice to be exact. I open one of my eyes by a slit and spy a completely ridiculous sight. A petite girl of high school age stands over the body of Eagle Claw sheathing what looks like a cavalry saber. She is also incredibly well groomed, with shining black shoulder length hair, clear, fair skin and wearing what looks to be a stupidly fancy police dress uniform. Who in the world wears gold braid and epaulettes outside of parades? More than all of that however, it is the sheer amount of spiritual energy that she exudes that takes my breath away. If Eagle Claw and his buddies exuded gentle halos of spiritual energy, this girl stands at the eye of a miniature blizzard. Her tiny frame literally hums and churns with power. My heart sinks at this sight. This girl pretty much confirms it. The demon who wrecked me was just a mook. In this world I am at the bottom of a long greasy totem pole. Magic Police Girl takes a glance at me and her face slackens just like everyone else. I breathe a sigh of relief. Once Magic Police Girl gets used to my presence, she will probably get me first aid and sent to a hospital. Not the most glamorous way of surviving and ending the mission, but at this point I would be grateful just to survive. "Now, now Sera." I hear a matronly voice say, "Do not underestimate them just because they are not trained to the level of Legion soldiers. I sense a few power houses lurking deeper within this compound." A woman in her early thirties steps into my view. From this angle I cannot see her features clearly but I can tell that she has her auburn hair tied into a bun and that she wears the same silly uniform Magic Police Girl is wearing, just burdened with an even heavier amount of gold braid. The spiritual energy radiating from the newcomer is also even more overpowering than what was coming from Magic Police Girl. Some kind of officer perhaps?Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Magic Police Girl immediately stops looking at me when she hears the newcomer''s voice and turns to give a salute. No! Don''t stop looking at me! Can''t you see I am bleeding out here? I try to move my body to get their attention, but my limbs had turned to lead. Was I going into shock? "Madam," I hear Magic Police Girl say, "These small timers are not worthy of the attention of SOPO. Something like this could be handled by ORPO without the need to bother us." A tired sigh comes from the older woman. She turns about, probably to survey the fire raging in the distance. "Demons are involved in this Sera. You know how ORPO gets whenever there are demons. We are the only ones The City can trust to deal with this." As the newcomer is turning about, I note that she has incredibly huge tits. Really, really huge ones. Her tits strain the tensile strength of her dark blue police jacket and are just short of breaking out of their confinement. Big Tits continues,"Besides, I know why you are in such a bad mood tonight. You were meant to be spending the evening with him, right?" Magic Police Girl''s voice becomes flustered and she mutters, "Yes. You know how that so-called sister of his keeps hanging around him. I need to keep an eye on her so he does not get taken advantage off!" "Mmm. I think someone wants to take advantage of him for sure. If only I was a little younger. Ha." Big Tits laughs lightly as Magic Police Girl''s face goes bright red and she pouts her lips. Yes. Yes. Do go on talking about your love life while an innocent civilian lies in front of you dying. Would it kill either of you to just look at me uninterrupted for a minute? "Well the rest of the unit has caught up with us." Big Tits tells the pouting Magic Police Girl, "You really need to stop rushing ahead Sera." Big Tits makes a gesture with her hand and some twenty equally ridiculously dressed police men and women assemble into formation behind her. With another gesture, the entire group marches off towards the warehouses, leaving my field of view. I start cursing in my mind. I knew that "condition" of mine was too good to be true. Now it was coming back to bite me in the ass. I hear a growl coming from the direction that the police marched off in. It rises into a booming shout that causes my to grind my teeth together. "The rozzers are here! Drive them back! We need more time!" A massive explosion tears through the night and I smell the strong scent of sulfur. There are cries of pain coming from the police. Big Tits'' voice breaks through the cacophony, "Brace! They are charging us!" The clash of weapons mingle with the war cries from the demons and demands to surrender from the police. Well good luck with that, SOPO or SOBO or whatever you guys call yourselves. I will just keep lying here, an innocent man caught up in all of this, dying because of police negligence. "Firstly, you are not an innocent party to all this. Secondly, you are not dying. Now stop babbling to yourself and head to the extraction point." says a familiar sounding rasp. The Voice! Its back! But it somehow sounds tired, drained even. "Hey. Nice to hear from you." I whisper as I climb back up to my feet. ''Why did you go all radio silent just now?" "I was stabilizing your condition and fusing the jumpsuit to your wound to prevent further bleeding. Now stop wasting time." Stabilizing? Whatever The Voice did it certainly felt a lot more than just that. I no longer feel the fatigue that had built up over the course of the mission. In fact, I feel just as fresh as when I first arrived at the main gates of the warehouse compound. Other than the big sucking wound in my side of course. I take a look at the brawl going down between the police and the demons. Big Tits had created a giant two handed sword out of her spirituality and was swinging it with gusto at the snarling, ever increasing, mob of demons in front of her. Despite her efforts, both sides appear to be deadlocked with neither one having the upper hand. Those demons are not so weak after all huh, Magic Police Girl? Turning my back on the entire crowd, I slip off into the night, towards the waiting black cab. The Crossroads of Reality The black cab speeds along the highway back to what I assume would be The Gallant''s Rest. I wince in pain as I lean back against the passenger seat in an attempt to relax. What a night. Not something that I am eager to experience again. "Hey. If you are able to heal me, why didn''t you close up this giant gash in my side just now?" I ask The Voice. "I did not heal your injuries. I merely stopped the bleeding and injected some of my power into you. As we speak, Mr Gallant''s lacerated kidney is leaking urine into his bloodstream. It is only because of my power that toxic shock has not occurred and both you and Mr Gallant remain alive." The Voice states. My face pales at once. You mean I am still in danger here? Urine getting into the blood sounds like a serious problem. "So how are we supposed to deal with this problem?" I ask in an agitated tone, "Are you taking me to a hospital now?" The Voice laughs at my distress, "Stay calm. The room is my place of power. Once Mr Gallant''s body has been returned there, I will undo all the damage that it has experienced in the course of tonight''s misadventure. I will also return you to your home dimension. So be at ease Transmigrator." "A room above a bar and lounge is your place of power?" I disbelievingly ask The Voice. No way. No way a deity can be this pathetic. "Yes." The Voice affirms. Full points for honestly at least. "Do you have any worshipers, temples, churches and the like dedicated to you? Any priesthood? Holy books?" A moment of awkward silence. "No." The Voice finally responds. This is good. This is way too good. I think I have finally gotten a handle on what kind of deity The Voice is. Not some powerful elder god, that''s for sure. I begin sniggering to myself at the revelation. "Are you a forgotten god?" I ask. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Sullen silence is the only response I receive as the cab continues its journey through the night. ..... The cab finally pulls up before The Gallant''s Rest. Rest is something that I could use right now. "Return to the room and lie down on the mattress. Once you do that, I will begin the process of returning you to your dimension and restoring Mr Gallant''s body." The Voice breaks its silence as I climb out of the cab. As I pull myself up the spiral staircase, I feel the pain in my side growing by the moment. Nausea also begins to creep up on me. Whatever treatment The Voice administered must be starting to wear off. My time in this world is coming to an end. I just have one more question that needs to be answered. "Why was I chosen?" I ask The Voice as I reenter the room for what I hope is the final time. "Both you and Mr Gallant threw up on yourselves at the exact same moment when drunk." The Voice says with relish. What. "Such moments generate what is referred to in metaphysics as synchronicity, providing what would otherwise be an innocuous event great mystic significance. The fate of the world, literally being borne on two mouthfuls of expel. The Host and Legion would be gravely humiliated if they knew." Come again? Puke? The fate of the world? "When the expel sprayed across yours and Mr Gallant''s clothes, at that moment, for a single suspended second in time, the distance between our respective dimensions was reduced to nothing. You and Mr Gallant were standing upon the crossroads of reality and throwing up all over it." OK Voice. You are enjoying this way too much now. This is for me calling you a forgotten god isn''t it? "I reached out through the mess that both of you had created and pulled your soul here. I trusted that any man who could stand upon the crossroads of reality would have what it took to complete the mission I had in mind. So now you know." The Voice concludes with barely concealed delight. As I lie down onto the mattress, a gale of laughter spreads through me. Puke was what saved the world. Puke was what saved the Hero. Its really too much to bear. "Then," I gasp between rounds of laughter, "There really was no choice in the matter of my summoning? It was my destiny to be summoned and Gallant''s destiny to be my host?" The Voice goes completely silent again. What did I say wrong this time? When The Voice finally manages to speak , it is with a clear undertone unease. "There is something I need to investigate urgently. I have already removed the bindings that keep you on this world. Safe journey Transmigrator." The line goes dead. A fog descends upon my mind. My vision blurs. I no longer feel the pain of my wounds. In fact I no longer feel anything, its as if I have been cut off from my body. And then everything goes dark. This Is ANN Happening now, breaking news. Tonight, an industrial accident caused an explosion at Warehouse Compound A5 in the Welder''s Bay District resulting in the complete destruction of one of the warehouses and an unknown number of casualties. Scene of warehouse in flames Eyewitnesses report of a sudden blast ripping through the warehouse which had been storing a large amount of Pyroil. Pyroil had been classed as a prohibited item by The City Council due to its highly toxic nature, but its low cost means that there are is an underground market for this infernal fuel. The blast not only destroyed the warehouse, but released a large cloud of mundane and magical contaminants into the atmosphere. The large amount of Pyroil in the warehouse has led investigators to suspect that the warehouse was used as part of a major smuggling syndicate. Upon detecting the spike in magic coming from the compound, a unit from the Special Operations Police scrambled to the location in order to investigate. When the police arrived at the scene, they were attacked by the guards deployed at the warehouse without warning or explanation. The SOPO squad was unable to break through the resistance mounted by the guards and after half an hour of indecisive fighting, called for back up from the Reserve Assault Unit. With the arrival of the RAU and their heavy weapons, the fight began to swing in favor of SOPO. However, the guards at the compound refused to give in and mounted a savage counterattack on the police. Image of the compound that now looks like a battlefield, with wreckage strewn everywhere. The camera pans and lingers on the sight of an armored personnel carrier that has been bisected. The resistance from the guards was only broken after SOPO called in several drone airstrikes and the RAU saturated the area with autocannon fire from their vehicles. The SOPO unit then charged the guards while employing their battle magic. Image of several demons in suits on their knees handcuffed. The police report that their casualties are 3 dead with several more injured. We do not have any information on the casualties suffered by the warehouse guards yet. The survivors of the guards are currently in police custody and undergoing questioning. Earlier tonight, Representative Michael had this to say: Video clip of a blond, curly haired man giving an interview at the site. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Yes. Of course we rushed here as soon as we heard the news. The workers are innocent and need our help. They should not suffer because of the actions of others. We are on standby at the moment. I have brought members of my staff to assist the hazmat crews once the all clear has been given by SOPO. Our sacraments will be effective in countering the infernal taint rising from the destroyed warehouse. We shall also assist the medics in mending the flesh of anyone that has been injured in this tragedy. However, there is something unpleasant that I feel needs to be said. Tonight''s tragedy shows that the demons have been growing bolder. A skirmish of this scale is something that should happen during the Millennium War, not during the era of peace that we are living in. The Legion is either unwilling or unable to rein in the less savory members of demon society. The only solution is stronger policing with heavier involvement from law abiding communities. The formation of the RAU is a step in the right direction, but it is only the first step. Reorganizing ORPO, while necessary, will not solve the problem staring at us in the face. SOPO can no longer be a human only organisation. Its membership must be expanded to include the angels who are residing in our fine city. In order for SOPO to be truly effective at protecting the public, it must also be representative of that public. In order to face down threats not of this world, it must have members that understand those threats. I understand that distrust lingers between our respective communities. The wounds of the Millennium War are not so easily healed. Nevertheless, in the next session of the Council, I will be proposing that SOPO begin the induction of angel members. We must have the bravery to move on from our prejudices and to take the hand proffered in friendship. Video clip ends. Representative Michael was, of course, referring to the long running controversy of policing in The City being performed only by humans. A rule laid down by The City''s charter of founding, it was meant to signify humanity as the true "owners" of this world, with the Host and Legion as responsible "tenants". Police in The City are also given much autonomy in pursuit of their functions to avoid the bureaucratic red tape arising from trans-sovereign nature of their day to day work. However, there has been increasing concern that this rule is endangering public safety and that the police have not been completely impartial in the conduct of their duties. The problematic status of Ordinary Police has only increased this concern. The official position taken by Commander Hernandez of ORPO with regard to the historical territorial claims advanced by the Legion over large swaths of The City''s districts has caused disquiet among the affected residents and the Council. This concern had led to the reorganizing of ORPO, with several members being transferred out to form the RAU and the removal of lethal weaponry from ORPO arsenals. The Commander nevertheless remains unrepentant and has freely admitted that ORPO accepts funding from the Legion. The autonomous nature of ORPO has made the Commander, and by extension ORPO itself, immune from censure. We will have further updates once the clean up of the site is completed and the police release more information. In the meantime, our thoughts and prayers are with the victims and their families. Coming up next, she may be an angel, but idolatry is no problem for her! Kirarin in a fan handshake event today announced the details of her upcoming concert. This, and more, coming up next on Angel News Network. Confidential Supplemental Report To Warehouse Compound A5 Incident Superintendent, This Supplemental Report has been urgently prepared in light of the subsequent discoveries made by SOPO investigators at the site and after further interviewing the guards currently in our custody. In light of the new evidence that has come to light, we are reassessing the significance of this event and will provide our updated conclusions at the end of this Supplemental Report. After the clean up of the site and the retrieval of all casualties, forensics began review and documentation of all the corpses collected for eventual release to family. During the course of this review, three corpses identified as guards drew the attention of the forensics team because they bore wounds that were inconsistent with the battle and the weapons deployed by ourselves and RAU. These three guards were each killed cleanly with a single strike, two were decapitated and the remaining one was stabbed through the chest. In light of these findings, the three corpses were sent to the General Hospital for further examination by the coroner. After completing the examination, the coroner has reverted with the following findings:
  1. The coroner confirms that each of the three guards were killed in a single strike.
  2. Wound analysis suggests that the weapon used was likely a long blade.
  3. From examining the angles of the wounds, the coroner is confident that the killer approached the guards from the front in full view.
  4. There are no signs of struggle on the corpses. The guards were in a relaxed state just before they were killed.
  5. Examination of magical residue left on the guards reveals a generic low grade enchantment applied with little care. This implies that the weapon used was likely stamped in a factory instead of forged by a mage smith.
  6. There are no traces of the killer''s spirituality left on the corpses.
As you are aware, SOPO units only wield weapons that have been forged by mage smiths from the College. This fact, coupled with the complete lack of bullet or blast wounds on the corpses, prove that there was a third party active at the site when the warehouse exploded. In light of this discovery, SOPO investigators returned to the site to perform a follow up search. While the Pyroil destroyed the warehouse in question, investigators managed to find minute traces of Chemtex explosives in the wreckage. The reason why the Chemtex was missed during the first sweep of the site was because Chemtex despite its explosive power, is a thoroughly mundane item. The heavy presence of magic from the burning Pyroil effectively prevented investigators from detecting the Chemtex at the time. Further interviews with the surviving guards the confirm the theory that there was a third party present during the material time. The survivors state that before our arrival, the three corpses had been discovered just after the warehouse exploded. This gave the guards the impression that they were under attack when SOPO arrived at the scene. Contrary to appearances, the guards were hired not to protect the warehouse itself, but a certain item that was hidden within it. This was the reason for their furious resistance against us.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. When asked what was so important in the warehouse that required such a large protective detachment, the survivors claimed ignorance, saying only that their captain informed them that this object was worth more than all their lives put together. The survivors also admitted that their captain had ordered them to delay us for as long as they could so that whatever they were guarding could be moved to safety. Unfortunately, the captain was killed while leading the resistance against us, closing off one avenue of questioning. Once some of the survivors had admitted to the true nature of their job, they became far more forthcoming to the investigators. These survivors stated that they were part of the Judecca Militia, a Private Military Consultancy group that was originally formed in Berlin during the Iron Octopus Crisis. The survivors were adamant that their employer was not the Legion itself, but rather a wealthy group of investors that had recently revived the Judecca Militia after the group fell apart several decades ago following the defeat of the Iron Octopus. As to who these investors were, the survivors, once again, claimed ignorance. Investigators ran a trace on the bank accounts of the survivors and discovered that the ultimate source of their salaries is a company registered in Panama. It is there the trail goes cold with regard to the identities of whomever was funding them. From the additional information investigators have obtained, we have come to the following conclusions:
  1. The explosion at the warehouse was no accident. It was a deliberate attack.
  2. The attacker had taken great pains to conceal his identity. The weapon he used is likely a mass produced blade, indistinguishable from any of its factory forged counterparts. The attacker has deliberately suppressed his spiritual signature, preventing anyone from using it as a means of identification. The attacker used Chemtex as the means of the destroying the warehouse and obfuscating his identity. Chemtex is produced in a number of factories located throughout UN P5 territory. Attempting to trace the attacker through the explosives will be highly challenging.
  3. Whatever was hidden at the warehouse was clearly of great value. Reviving a PMC just to protect this item speaks volumes of the value the owner attaches to it. The resistance mounted by the PMC also speaks of its strength.
  4. The choice to revive the Judecca Militia implies that one of the parties connected to this incident may also be involved with the Iron Octopus even though that organization has long fallen dormant.
  5. The attacker is probably very skilled in combat. Evidence leads us to believe that the attacker is capable of openly approaching and overwhelming his opponents with a single precise strike before they can react. Furthermore, these blows were dealt by someone who was repressing their spirituality.
As we cannot identify either the attacker or whichever organization that is standing behind him, our efforts shall be concentrated on following up on the Iron Octopus connection. More worryingly, it has come to our attention that the Person of Interest as well as his sister have a familial connection to the now defunct Iron Octopus. We have informed the SOPO officers tasked with keeping watch over the Person of Interest of our concerns. Inspector Scott assures us that she and Constable Naiberg are aware of this connection and that the Person of Interest is not in any way involved with this matter. We further recommend that the true nature of the strike on the warehouse be concealed until we can ascertain the identities of at least one of the parties involved the matter. This is to ensure that speculation does not go out of control and further exacerbate the already fraught political situation in The City. Report concludes. signed Senior Inspector Hartley For the Special Operations Police Investigation Team Beta The Bartender "Highball," The middle aged manager type tells me as he parks himself by the bar, "and a beer. Thanks." I work the the handle of the beer pump and start preparing the drinks the customer had asked for. Remember, beer is always 30% head and Highballs are made only with the whiskey from the bottom shelf. I have already been here for the last 6 months how time flies. I pass the drinks to the customer and he pays. This is my life now. It could be worse. As I gaze across the bar and lounge, I see that the place is packed. The manager did a good job of bringing that hot new singer as an attraction. I heard from Maria that we were apparently paying models to show up and drink here? As long as it brings in business I guess. Its not as if I am in the position to criticize anyway. "Purple Cow and Vodka." Another customer approaches me. I nod and begin preparing the drink. Just do your job. You are already in big trouble with the family. "Hey, Gallant is it? This place yours?" The customer glances at my badge as he takes his drink. "No sir. Owned by my father." I reply, keeping my face neutral. "Lucky boy." The customer makes a finger gun at me as he walks away. Yes. Lucky. By any standard I can be considered not just lucky, but outright blessed. Back in Neo-Cardiff, no one would have called me Gallant, or Mr Gallant. I would have been called Young Master. That''s right, Young Master Gallant, from "that" family of Gallants. Father was one of the first humans who awoke to magic during the Millennium War. Earned several merits in the fighting and got connected with the Host. After the war, father set himself up as a business man and the money came flowing in. Everyone in the world knows who father is. And that is the problem. "Daffyd, are you day dreaming again?" Maria asks from her end of the counter. There is a note of concern in her voice. I was leaving this place for good you know. "I am fine Maria. Thanks for asking." I focus and smile back at her. That buzzing noise in the back of my head, its at it again. I have hearing it on and off for the past week. Ever since that nightmare. Maria is a middle aged Japanese lady that the manager had recruited from a bar in Tokyo a few years back where she was working as the senior bartender. Quite a famous bar too apparently. Maria once told me that it was the favorite watering hole for all sorts of well known authors. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Maria is also seriously skilled as a bartender. For the past few months I have been working and training under her and every night she wows the customers with her art. The tossing, the mixing, compared to her, most professional bartenders would look like amateurs. No wonder the manager went all the way to Tokyo to recruit her. Maria is also one of the few people in this bar that knows about my problem. The reason why I am here pouring drinks and not back in Neo-Cardiff. "Did your father write again Daffyd?" Maria presses on. Why are you asking Maria? You already know he did. You found the letter when I was hauled upstairs to the drunk tank after I had partaken of the merchandise when the place closed. Red. There was red everywhere when I left the room. So father. Big man. Important man. Ever since he became one of the first human mages, lots of would be apprentices came knocking on our door hoping that he would teach them. Teach them he did. Used his apprentices for his business as well. Hoped that I as the eldest would become the successor that would take control of all the business and the magic. Become the new big man. Except I do not have magic. Not the tiniest speck. No matter how much I trained, no matter what pills or tonics I took, I could never cast a single spell. When father found out, he was disappointed. Then he put all his attention on my sister. My sister, now she is the successor that father was looking for. Powerful. Capable. Many people call her a prodigy in the magical arts. I was expecting to be set aside by the family. It hurt to be sure, but living as a powerless young master beats a lot of the other options. Father had other plans though. Father demanded I continue my training in the magical arts. He said that I would show results or be completely cut off. My sister supported him in this. Both of them claimed that it was impossible that I, who shared their blood, would have no aptitude for magic. The problem had to lie with me. So my training continued with no achievements to show for it. I may have taken up drinking at that time to deal with all the stress and that became yet another bludgeon for the family to beat me down with. I was now not only a failure, but an embarrassment. The horizon. I could not reach it. So father told me to pack my bags and move to The City where I could no longer embarrass him. He would arrange a job for me at one of his bars, but everyone involved knows that its just an excuse to provide me with an allowance so that I do not wind up on the streets. Before I left, sister told me that if I learned the meaning of remorse and showed any form of improvement, the family would allow me back to Neo-Cardiff. Father writes regularly demanding updates on my situation. I am sure he checks with the manager here as well. The red. The red. Its closing in. I can''t escape. And that is the worst part about the whole thing. If they did not care, I could have dealt with it. Now, its as if I am trapped by their blood, by their expectations and by their money. There is no escape from this. I tried to hide. But the red always finds me. There is no hiding from father and sister. It will eventually find you too. You have to run. The buzzing is getting worse. I shake my head to clear it and say to Maria, "I am going for my break now. You alright there?" Maria smiles and nods. Thanks Maria. I grab bottle of beer from the fridge, perks of being the owner''s son, and leave the place by the back door. Baptism I lean against the wall and take yet another deep pull from the almost empty bottle of beer in my hand. An untrustworthy warmth had started to spread throughout my body, drowning out the irritating buzzing in my head. I know that I should not be drinking on the job, but who was going to stop the owner''s son? At any rate, it was these petty rebellions that allowed me to keep some sense of being in control of my life. Still that is a lie was it not? The only reason why I can get away with what I am doing is because of father''s influence. A regular employee would have been disciplined a long time ago for stealing the stock and drinking during opening hours. Father snarls threats at me through his letters and sister scolds me over the phone but the evidence is clear. I can rebel because father allows me to. Somewhere in my heart, I had already understood all of this a long time ago. So why am I thinking about all this now? Its because of the nightmare from a week ago, the week when I received father''s latest letter. Father as usual was demanding results from me and saying that he managed to track down a genius tutor at Unity College that could apparently turn a failure like me around. I was to present myself at the College starting from next month. It was the continuation of the same story that had played out countless times in Neo-Cardiff. So in celebration of the good news, I took a few drinks during my break and got hauled up to the drunk tank upstairs of the bar. It was in the drunk tank that I dreamed. I dreamed that I was embarking on a mission, no an adventure. I was provided with weapons, powerful weapons that I never told anyone about, not even father. The drunk tank was no longer the bare room that it had been, but turned into a place of learning and training with all the necessary accouterments. I had a companion as well, a black stallion, that would whisper secrets in my ear as I rode against the wind to battle a great evil. I took heart when the stallion told me that I would not need magic to complete my quest and that my victory would save the world. On the back of the stallion, I arrived at a heavily guarded fortress. There I was forced to fight and to kill. I used my weapons to raze the fortress to the ground. And I nearly died at the hands of the guards during my escape. The fire, the blood, it was absolutely terrifying. The pain of my wounds, it all felt so real. I thought I was going to die. When I managed to reach the stallion who was waiting to take me away from the inferno, I felt the greatest sense of relief ever. But that was when the nightmare truly began. The stallion carried me back to the bar and told me that my wounds would not kill me. It told me that my adventure was over and that I would be able to go back to my regular life. I pleaded with the stallion to take me with him, away from the bar, away from magic, away from father and sister. The stallion merely bid me farewell and galloped away into the night. I was drawn back towards the drunk tank and saw it changing before my eyes, back into the familiar bare room. And there I was trapped. For eternity. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ..... The last of the customers leave as we prepare to close for the night. I cleaned the place up in a daze, still thinking about the nightmare and finally understanding what I needed to do. But did I have the bravery to do it? I nod to myself. Whether I had the bravery or not was irrelevant. There was only one course of action open to me, to avoid the future I believe the nightmare was trying to warn me of. I could not put this off any longer. "Is the manager coming in tonight?" I ask Maria. "No. He should be around tomorrow though." She responds distractedly, preoccupied with calculating the evening''s take. That makes things somewhat easier. I am afraid that I would not know how to respond in front of the manager and wind up changing my mind. I take a pen and a sheet of paper and quickly write my letter of resignation. Giving it a once over, I sign the letter and place it in a sealed envelope. Passing the envelope to Maria, I ask, "Could you pass this to the manager then? I may not be coming in tomorrow." Maria nods and wishes me goodnight. I exit through the front door and hail a self driving cab to take me away from the bar for the last time. ..... I get myself comfortable after I punch in my address into the console provided in the cab. Perhaps this was something I had been building towards for some time. All my mail was sent to the bar because I never told the family the address of the flat I was staying at. I was unconsciously already making preparations to strike out on my own. As for work, I heard that the Legion was looking for support staff ever since they began seriously expanding into the districts. I should be able to find something even as a mundane human. Doing something like that would also piss father off mightily, I think to myself with a smile. No. No more petty rebellion. No more being chained to the past. My adventure starts now. My life starts now. All of a sudden, the cab veers onto the coastal highway and starts to accelerate rapidly. The dashboard lights up in an alarming red informing me that the cab''s navigational systems are malfunctioning. I punch into the console the command to signal an operator at the company''s office to override the cab''s AI but all I get is an error message and the cab speeding up even more. The cab''s radio activates on its own accord and begins to hiss static menacingly at me. My eyes find the cab''s emergency stop lever where the handbrake would usually be. Pulling the lever would mechanically lock down the brakes, making it a last resort option in an emergency. Without any hesitation, I pull the lever. And it disconnects completely from the lever well. Impossible. There is no way both safety mechanisms in the cab would fail simultaneously. My thoughts whirl as the cab guns its engine one final time and swerves towards the safety barrier by the side of the highway. The momentum sends the cab plowing through the barrier as the windshield cracks and the engine block is obliterated. I am thrown against my seat as the cab flies briefly through the air before plunging into the dark sea. The lights on the dashboard begin to flicker erratically as water floods the cabin. I desperately try to open the doors to escape but to no avail. I futilely beat my fists against the windows as the radio mocks me. And soon, the only thing that I can do is to hold my breath as the radio hisses in triumph. My lungs burn. My vision blurs as darkness begins closing in. As my consciousness begins to fade, I see a figure approaching me from the distance. The black stallion. It has come to take me away. I hear a voice just at the edge of hearing. I strain my ears to listen, to listen to whatever the stallion is trying to say to me. My mouth involuntarily opens and as the water rushes into my lungs, I finally hear it. "Awaken, Transmigrator." The Crimson Web When The Voice sent me on my way, I thought that the dream was over. That I would wake up in my own home with an interesting story to tell. Instead a literal universe opened up before my eyes as I plunged head first into a sea of stars. Lost in the darkness of the cosmos, I had no idea what to do next. But then I saw it, a road made out of puke, paving the way towards the unending horizon. It was then I realized what this place was. The Crossroads of Reality My dream was almost over then. The greenish yellow road would take me home. Not the most dignified way to end a dream, but strangely suitable since it was probably a bender that brought the whole thing on. Stars flared to life and died around me in a riot of color as I began taking my first steps along the path that was before me. I turned my attention towards the stars around me in an effort to take my mind off the disgusting squelching noise my feet were making traversing the path of puke. In each star I caught glimpses of someone''s life. A man going to work. A couple quarreling at home. A child chasing a ball. When I saw the image of someone passing away from old age or from violence, the star''s light would quickly fade as well leaving behind an amorphous chunk of darkness. When a star blazed into existence, the sight that I would see within its fiery mass was a baby taking its first breath. Nor were the stars immobile. Each star hung by a thin red thread which connected it to the countless other stars as well. The threads constantly pulled at the stars, moving them about in a complex dance. It was as if a crimson spiderweb had been laid across the entire cosmos with the stars caught within it. Fate That was what the crimson web was, wasn''t it? The force that The Voice claimed had a hand in almost everything in that world. The cacophony of life that surrounded me was something being organized, being cultivated, by this entity. I then focused my attention on the horizon that the path was leading me towards and saw that the crimson web stopped just at the border of the horizon as if it had hit an invisible wall. The horizon had to be the border between dimensions then. Once I crossed into the horizon, the dream would be over. I hastened my pace. No sense in dallying any further. ..... The path stretched on and on. How long had I been walking? Did time pass normally in this place? I impatiently pressed on towards the horizon that loomed in the distance as the red threads moved the stars about in their endless dance. And as the stars danced, strands of the red thread began to hang loose from the tableau, drawing closer and closer to the path. I glanced at red threads and started to run. I had no idea what was going on here, but I wanted no part of it. The threads sluggishly grasped the edge of the path and began to grope blindly across it. I frowned and stepped over the writhing threads as more and more strands began to gather at the path''s edge. At this rate, the entire path would be completely carpeted by the thread. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. A sudden chill runs up my right leg as I am taking my next step. A strand of red thread had snapped upwards and lassoed itself around my leg. The lasso tightens and pulls, causing me to stumble. The threads in front of me lose their indolence and start thrashing about, forming a wall of crimson to block any progress. I curse as I yank my leg back, easily snapping the red thread as it disintegrates. Taking heart at this sight, I charge forward and grasp the thrashing mass of crimson thread in front of me, pulling them aside to open a way through. The threads that I touch immediately disintegrate as well and my hands slice through the barrier like sharpened blades. The red threads respond by whipping around my body like a giant snake. The coils of the thread constrict powerfully and I feel the breath being driven out of me. And just as suddenly, the serpent that wrapped its coils around me begins to fizzle and come apart by the seams. I dust myself off and continue pushing through the red mass. .... The red is endless. No matter how much of it I destroy, there always seems more. It can''t stop my progress, but the unending mass has slowed me to a crawl. Worst still, I am starting to realize that destroying the red seems to take something out of me. I am not tired, but I feel somehow diminished, less substantial. I begin to feel the cold''s bite to the depths of my being. Yet the red is as strong as ever, resisting my every step. I lift my hand and see that there is a sheen of ice forming around it. This cannot continue. I will not reach the horizon this way. The road has become impassable. I dive off the side off the road and dart through the gaps between the dancing stars. I will need to hide from the red and once it has lost me, return to the path. ..... How long has it been? The red is everywhere. No matter where I run, no matter where I hide, it always finds me. The red sensing my weakness, has grown more aggressive. No longer content in acting as a barrier to my progress, it now seeks to corner me and lashes out wherever possible. I easily tear through these attacks, but it costs more of my precious strength. My joints have become almost completely locked up from the cold. I grit my teeth in pain as they grate and pop while running. The horizon is as distant as ever. Soon I am no longer advancing, but in full retreat. The way back to the point where I began my journey is still clear of the red as the mass voraciously devours the path leading to the horizon ahead of me. That buys me the time to stagger back the way I came without further molestation. The path terminates before a star. I gaze into its depths and see an image of a man serving customers at a bar. Gallant Its my host. It has to be. With the red seeking me out, I dive into the depths of the burning star, the only place left that is safe for me. The star swallows me whole. I burrow deep into the flaming rock, seeking to escape from the crimson horror. But I feel the cold again as the star that represents my host begins to shake. The fire within dulls and cracks start forming across the rock. Fate. Fate had caught up with me and gotten its claws into my host. I peer through the cracks and see the seething mass of red pressing down relentlessly upon the star. I try shouting warnings to my host. I don''t know if he can hear them. But it does not matter. The fire of my host''s life begins to sputter. The red. The red is everywhere. I gather what few embers of my host''s life that are left and hold them protectively close to my chest. A meaningless gesture is the best I can do for him. Then the star begins to collapse from the pressure, with rock and water pouring down over me. I am swept away by the flood, swept away into the dark infinity. From the darkness comes a voice I thought I would never hear again. "Awaken, Transmigrator." Rebirth The Voice sounds like thunder in my ears as I am forcibly pulled through the darkness of the cosmos, leaving the writhing red mass thrashing angrily behind me. I feel a warmth start to rise from my chest as the ice that had encased my body begins to melt, and then boil away. This warmth, this strength, I had never felt this amazing before. Was this how other transmigrators felt when they were summoned into a new world? I am being pulled at an ever accelerating speed. The stars begin to blur and my eyes start to water. I feel my body begin to contort, as if it is being squeezed to fit into a set of ill fitting clothes. A pressure begins to build within me as my head buzzes in that annoying yet familiar way. The heat in my chest blazes. The summoning must be almost complete. The force now pulls me towards a great vortex of dark water. I am swallowed by the vortex''s maw as it swirls unceasingly. My skin and clothes are soaked through. The water gushes through my mouth and my nose. It fills me up, fills me to the brim, as I am pulled ever downwards into the darkness. The stabbing pain in my head reaches a crescendo as my vision spins and spins. I cry out in pain. My body is is given one final pull. And with a great blast of light from behind my eyes, it is over. ...... The beat of my heart. Its the only thing I hear in the silence of the wrecked cab, the sorry excuse for my host''s tomb. My heart beats, even though I no longer am able to breathe. It beats, stoked by the fire that I had carried with me in my chest. With every beat of my heart, the fire runs through my body, restoring strength, driving away the cold. I clench my fists, feeling the nails bite into my palm. Death will not take me today. I deliver a kick at the door that had trapped my host and it flies off from its hinges. I smoothly swim out of the wreckage and break the surface of the water, my inability to breathe not bothering me the slightest. I smile to myself. The Voice had finally forked out for some cheat abilities at least. Ascension Tower looms over me as I orient myself. Not too far from me looks like a combination of sewer access and outflow channel carved into the seawall of The City. More importantly, there is a staircase next to it that would take me back up towards street level. A smile ruefully to myself as I begin paddling back towards civilization. From the path of puke to the anus of The City. I am certainly seeing all the sights this place has to offer. Unlike my earlier experience with the never ending horizon, I reach the staircase easily enough. Climbing up, I see that the staircase leads to a small side road that has branched off the highway, probably to allow maintenance crews access to this section of the sewers. Parked unobtrusively by the side of the road is a black cab. No prizes for guessing who that is. I really need to talk to The Voice about getting better summoning locations. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. My muscles cramp up and I stagger from the pain. Sinking to my knees, I begin retching out all the seawater that had been sloshing about inside my host. A metallic taste starts to rise from my throat and I see flecks of blood being expelled along with the seawater. The fire in my chest dies and my strength leaves me along with all the seawater that I am retching out. I collapse onto the ground in a heap just gasping for air, relishing the sensation of being able to actually use my lungs. The black cab obligingly puts itself into reverse and stops just in front of my prone form. I hear the click of the rear passenger door unlocking and I haul myself into the vehicle and lie down, completely exhausted, as the cab drives off. ....... The radio crackles to life, "Transmigrator. The situation has changed. I require your further assistance." Of course you do. Too tired to respond, I nod sagaciously to myself as The Voice continues. "The mission was a success. However, upon investigation, I have concluded that the crisis that we averted was spawned by Fate as a means of forcing me into action and luring out my agents." We were set up? My ears perk up at this news. You''re not a terribly competent deity aren''t you, Voice? "A blow was nevertheless struck against Fate. Fate''s influence in this world has been weakened and it can no longer hide the extent of its interference from my sight." I idly gaze out of the cab''s window as I listen to The Voice rumble on. We aren''t going back to The Gallant''s Rest? "Fate is not one to forget such offences against itself easily. That is probably why it attempted to murder you on your journey back." I shudder at the thought of the red. The red that was everywhere. "When that failed and you took refuge within the soul of Mr Gallant, Fate engineered an accident that would have resulted in his death. If I had not managed to intervene at the last moment, you would have lost your anchor to this dimension and your alien soul expunged." So it was my fault that Gallant almost died. This dream is getting pretty heavy. "Your physical body would sleep forever, a soulless husk, waiting for an owner that will never return." What. Are you saying that I will never wake from this dream? That''s not funny Voice. "Fate now watches over the crossroads. You will not be able to make the journey back until its power has been eliminated." Stop. Stop saying that. This dream is supposed to be over! "That is why you will assist me Transmigrator. Fate has labelled you as my accomplice." I shut my eyes, praying that when I open them I will wake up. But all I hear is The Voice. "Only through assisting me will you have the means of saving yourself." A Message From The Author So this concludes the prologue of the tale. I had originally began writing this story mainly on a whim, as an experiment of sorts. I wanted to see how far an isekai story could go without turning to the usual crutches afforded to the protagonist such as overpowered abilities, battle waifus, in-universe knowledge and so on. I also wanted to create a more grounded world, which made few concessions to the protagonist. I do not know how successful this experiment has been, only you the readers who have chosen to inflict this piece of atrocity on yourselves would be able to tell me that. What I have realized though is that it has made plotting the story more difficult than normal. The protagonist''s weakness makes what would otherwise be trivial challenges in another tale become incredibly difficult. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The prologue also ran longer than I would have liked, mainly because the world kept growing as I wrote. The nature of the characters changed heavily from my original vision, particularly The Voice, who was originally conceived as more fumbling and lighthearted. This means that the original plot had to be changed. Updates will slow from this point on as I plot out what comes next, but I will keep updating on a weekly basis as the story develops. I thank you for taking the time reading this and joining me on this journey. I look forward to seeing you soon. A New Day After The Voice had given me the low down, instead of taking me back to The Gallant''s Rest, it drives towards a large gated compound. The large gates that bar entry open as the black cab approaches and the cab continues its journey through what appears to be the very generously sized grounds of a stately home. The cab does not stop at the main building however. It follows the narrow path and winds its way deeper into the compound. I see several smaller buildings that dot the area and the cab finally drops me off at a whitewashed two story building. Each floor of the building has been divided into a number residential units with some of them clearly occupied. I realize that its a small apartment complex. The glove compartment of the cab opens to reveal a key card with a room number printed on it. The Voice tells me to get some rest and the black cab drives off into the night, back to wherever The Voice has it parked when not in use. Referring to the key card, I climb the steps to the second floor of the building and swiped the card at the relevant door. The door opens with a click and I step in. The first thing I do is look around for a place to dump my wet clothes and dry myself off. Finding an en suite bathroom, I strip off my clothes and pile them in a corner. I find myself too tired to bother with a proper shower so I just dry myself off with a towel and put on the provided bathrobe. I then collapse on to the bed (A proper bed! At last!) and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. ..... The sound of an alarm clock rouses me from my slumber. I blink my eyes and stretch my stiff body. Morning light streams through a slit in the drawn curtains. I follow the noise of the alarm and find a digital clock sitting on the bedside table with a familiar looking earpiece lying beside it. I turn off the alarm before putting the earpiece on. The Voice does not bother with pleasantries. "Your body has been restored from last night''s ordeal." The Voice rasps, "Go clean yourself up. You will find a suitable set of clothes in the wardrobe. I need you to be ready by 8 am." No rest for the wicked eh? Not even for a near death experience? From the time on the clock I have an hour to prepare. I shake my head ruefully. It was good to know that no matter how outlandish the situation became, there were some things that did not change. Not wasting any time, I head for the bathroom to begin my morning ritual. .... After showering, I inspect the clothes that The Voice had prepared for me. White shirt, brown slacks, brown jacket and black leather shoes. It was the kind of inexpensive office wear you could find anywhere. No weapons. I breathe a sigh of relief. At least The Voice was not throwing me directly back into the fire. Putting the clothes on I look for a mirror to check my appearance but give up on the idea when I remember the nature of my condition. I instead use the time remaining to take a look around the apartment. The apartment was functional and nothing fancy, though its increased size alone made it a huge improvement over the room. The bedroom itself was around the size of the original room I awoke in, but it had the benefit of a proper bed. The only other furnishings in it were the bedside table, the wardrobe and a small reading table with a chair by the window. The apartment also had a small kitchen that connected with the living cum dining area. The kitchen had both an induction heater and a microwave for cooking. A small fridge was set up in the corner and on a rack above the aluminium sink was a sparse selection of plates, bowls and eating utensils. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. The furnishings of the living and dining areas were what you would expect from a motel. The dining area comprised of a wooden table and four chairs that probably came as a set from the store. The living area was dominated by a rectangular glass table surrounded by old cushioned chairs. There was a laptop left unattended on the glass table, its blinking power indicator showing that it was in standby mode. Well, at least I got an upgrade to my lodgings. I grab the key card and head out. .... "Hey. Where am I anyway?" I ask The Voice as I survey my surroundings. The apartment building is built under the shadow of an ancient looking spire that looms overhead from a distance. Looking about a bit more, I see small groups of people entering the large weathered looking building at the center of the grounds, some of whom are wearing stylized school uniforms. Another spire also extends from the old, stately building, reaching towards the clear blue sky. "Unity Academy, right in the heart of the Dreaming Spires District." The Voice rasps. "An escalator institution that was created by The City to school the post Millennium War generation and to bring about the vision of co-existence. The Academy was built on the ruins of some historically significant school or other in an attempt to grant it increased provenance. That aside, it is also widely regarded as one of the finest educational institutes in the world today." "Escalator what now?" I quiz. Peering at the small groups of students that are walking towards the building, I see a fair number of animal people among them as well as students that give off a sparkly halo in addition to the regular humans. Almost all the students I see also seem to have developed their spirituality, their bodies surrounded by a gentle nimbus of power. "Escalator institution. Graduates from Unity Academy are given preference in admission to Unity College." The Voice explains. "Unity College is famed worldwide for its faculty of magical sciences and the influence of its alumni. Several talents currently in the service of the Legion, Host and UN P5 graduated from Unity College. That makes getting into Unity Academy an incredibly competitive affair. The students you see here either have great raw talent or powerful family connections." "Not all the students have trained spirituality though." I point out to The Voice. "Magic and wealth are not mutually exclusive. Unity Academy understands this and makes provision for any future leaders in business or politics that may not possess magic. The families of such students in turn recognize the value of their children building ties with the power houses of the next generation." The Voice pauses for a moment. "Its time. Head for the administration wing of the main building." "You still haven''t explained what am I supposed to be doing here." I tell The Voice as I begin to make my way across the immaculately kept grounds. "As you have probably already guessed, the Hero is a student here. I have procured lodging for you at the staff quarters partly for that reason." Bingo. "And the other reason?" I ask The Voice. "The increased difficulty of the task before you necessitates that I provide you with access to allies." The Voice continues. "I have arranged an appointment for you with one of my operatives working in the Academy''s faculty. She will provide you with the authorizations and identity papers that will allow you to undertake your tasks free from harassment." "Wait a minute." I say to The Voice. "You told me before that the people of this world cannot hear you. How then can you have operatives?" "It is difficult to explain. You will understand once you interact with her. At any rate, this particular operative has started to forget her obligations to me. I plan to provide her with a refresher course on the importance of gratitude during your meeting." I suppress a shudder upon hearing The Voice''s reply. Whatever is coming up will probably not be pretty. Still, does this mean I am finally going to be getting a waifu? "Are you going to be making her my waifu?" I ask The Voice. "She is already married." Damn. "Is she at least cute?" I am not giving up in my rights as a transmigrator you hear me? "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder." The Voice answers with amusement as I enter the main building. Our Mutual Friend "So who am I meeting?" I ask The Voice as I check a sign on the wall for the directions to the administration wing of the building. Forward, then left, then straight all the way. Got it. "Catriona Alley." The Voice rasps, "Head of the Administration and Personnel Department. You are going to be interviewing for the job of her deputy." "Wait, hold up." I protest, "What does this job have to do with helping the Hero succeed? I have absolutely zero experience in this line of work and I doubt a bartender does either." The Voice chuckles unnervingly, "I do not actually expect you to do any work for Mrs Alley. While I can spawn all the necessary identification for you, it does not solve the problem of the staff on campus not actually knowing who you are. Even if the identification is completely perfect, you will eventually be investigated and found out. Mrs Alley''s position in the faculty will provide the cover necessary for you to operate. Also, I need you to pass a message along to her." "And the Academy is completely alright with this? Hiring a Deputy Head of Department who does zero work and has no qualifications?" I ask disbelievingly. "The Academy does not know about this vacant position. Such a position will only be determined as necessary after your meeting with Mrs Alley." The Voice responds. Wow. Do you not realize how suspicious you sound Voice? I am willing to put down money right now that I am being pulled into committing a crime. Again. Also I just realized that I have no money. .... The corridor ends at a counter built into the wall with a small bell left on the counter top with a sign "Ring for service" left next to it. Next to the counter is a wooden door with the sign "Staff Only" barring further ingress. Another sign hanging on the ceiling overlooking this set up proclaims that, yes, I have indeed arrived at the Administration and Personnel Department. I hear the click of the door unlocking and enter the office. "There is a trolley of documents to your left with a sealed package. Take the package to your interview with Mrs Alley." The Voice instructs. Looking around, I quickly spot the trolley The Voice was referring to. On top of it is a bloated package, the kind you see courier companies deliver to offices. Hefting the package up, I mutter to myself, "This had better not be another bomb." "Stop being ridiculous." The Voice admonishes, "That is the resume I have prepared for you. It is something that will impress Mrs Alley and demonstrate who exactly she is dealing with." "Who exactly she is dealing with?" I whisper urgently as I walk towards through the open plan office space, staff falling victim to the effects of my condition whenever I pass their line of sight, "What exactly is going on here? Am I going to need to beat a hasty retreat?" I finally reach the end of the room where another partitioned off area with a door awaits. The sign on the door announces that I have reached the office of Catriona Alley, Head of Department. The desk situated just beside the door is manned by a cat lady in a smart suit who would be considered attractive if she was not drooling while spazzing out in front of me. "Tell the secretary that you are here on the recommendation of a mutual friend." The Voice says. The cat lady secretary eventually manages to gather herself and focus her attention on me. Wiping off the drool with a tissue she asks, "How may I help you?" "I am here to see the boss on the recommendation of a mutual friend." I reply. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The secretary''s eyes narrow as she reaches for the phone, "Mrs Alley has no appointments set for today. She is in the office now though, let me check." "Follow my instructions when you meet Mrs Alley." The Voice says. I feel like screaming my frustration. Didn''t you tell me that an appointment was set? Why can''t anything be straight forward around here? The secretary puts down the handset and regards me evenly. "Mrs Alley will meet you now." she says and gestures towards the door. ..... When I walk into the room, I am confronted by a devastatingly beautiful middle aged human woman. Long fine auburn hair. Clear skin and green eyes. Tight hourglass figure with perfectly shaped globes that fit snugly inside a white silk blouse. As the hot babe spazzes out in front of me, I take the opportunity to admire nature''s good work. Good thing she is not trying to avoid looking at me, this way I can get both barrels. Oh yeah. Wait. She is not shying away from me. But I don''t see a spiritual field around her. The Voice hinted that something was up with this woman. But what? Hot Babe snaps out of her trance and scowls in my direction. Her voice is low, dangerous as she addresses me, "I don''t know if this was your idea young man, or someone put you up to this, but I have little patience for bad jokes." Uh oh. "Imagine, the cheek of someone to leave an anonymous message on my personal email with the most outrageous demands. Did you think I would actually fall for such a bluff?" Voice. Please. I know that you cannot communicate directly with the locals, but this is really getting ridiculous. And you are calling her your "operative"? "Now, you will tell me everything you know about this "mutual friend" of ours or you are not leaving this campus." Hot Babe concludes. I feel waves of spirituality slam against me, several times stronger compared to when I was attacked by Eagle Claw. She''s powerful. But then why can''t I see her spirituality? "Pass her your resume." The Voice instructs. I comply. Hot Babe glares at me for a moment before accepting the package. A she tears it open, I see that it holds a huge stack of documents that Hot Babe starts reading through. Her scowl disappears as she goes through the documents and sweat start to bead her brow. She takes occasional glances at me, but instead of annoyance, her expression is now one of fear. The pressure being exerted on me eases and for a brief moment I catch the sight of Hot Babe''s spirituality field before it flickers out of existence. Instead of ogling Hot Babe, this time I try to focus on the spirituality field that I know is there. It flickers back into my sight once I begin actively looking for it, but keeping it there requires me to concentrate. It takes a while, but eventually the flickering stops and I can see the nimbus forming around her. What I see next though, takes my breath away. Instead of invading the surrounding area, Alley''s spiritual field is focused inwards on herself. She constantly cycles the energy about, releasing it from her core into the surrounding and quickly pulling it back in, like a tide advancing and receding. Whenever she pushes the energy out, her face wrinkles up like a raisin, her tits sag, her figure bloats and her hair grows streaks of white. When the energy is drawn back in, she regains her previous hotness. When I stop looking at the nimbus and instead look directly at Alley again like before, the shifting stops and I can only see the Hot Babe. The nimbus also immediately flickers out of my sight. So, an illusion generated by Alley using her spirituality? Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder. The Voice rouses me from my reverie, "Ask her how Jacob is doing." I quickly comply. When Alley hears my question, her face pales even further and she stays silent. She shuts her eyes for a moment before speaking cautiously, "What our mutual friend is asking for is not an easy thing to do. Can you come back tomorrow and allow me to think things over?" "No." I reply at The Voice''s instruction. This is some godfather level shit Voice. I have a really bad feeling about what we are doing. Alley''s face twists and the sternness in her voice returns as she shoots back, "You cannot do this. Not after so many years of silence. It''s not fair to me and my family. Ask him, when will my debt be satisfied?" "When he says it is. Or do you want me to go somewhere else with my resume?" comes the reply. Oh man. This whole thing is just so sleazy. Alley collapses back into her seat, her expression downcast. "I understand." she finally chokes out, "I will instruct my staff to prepare the necessary documents now as instructed by our mutual friend. Please wait outside." I hurriedly get up from my seat to leave. This is low Voice. Is this what you were talking about, sending her a message? But The Voice was not done yet with the instructions. "Our mutual friend has given me your private contact number. I''ll be in touch if I need anything else." I say. Alley just nods in silence as I leave her office. Heart To Heart I accept the slim envelope of documents and the several files that Alley''s secretary hands to me and leave the office as quick as I can. After my surprise at what happened had died down, my outrage at what The Voice had roped me into was close to bursting. If we were going to continue working together, some ground rules were going to have to be laid down. I was not going to sink as low as this so-called god. Once I leave the administration wing, I stop at a quiet corner of the corridor and hiss angrily at The Voice, "That was wrong, threatening a woman like that. What were you thinking?" The Voice rasps in a mildly amused tone, "I sense that you are upset Transmigrator. Do tell, what has gotten you into this state?" "Stop playing dumb with me!" I snap, "Alley was not your operative. You were anonymously threatening her and her family if she did not help us, weren''t you?" The Voice responds, completely unrepentant, "Yes. Is there a problem with that Transmigrator?" "Damn right there is a problem!" I bark, "I will not be a party to any more of this. You told me to help the Hero. Fine. But nothing back there was anything close to being heroic conduct. This stops. Now." "Strange," The Voice hums, "that you would react so strongly to a few words being thrown about, yet have no problem with committing murder." My mind becomes completely red. Are we bringing that up now Voice? You know I didn''t have any choice in the matter. "What happened at the warehouse was different, and you know it." I growl. "As I remember it," The Voice rumbles, "I did not provide you with any weapons other than the explosives. You, at your own initiative, procured that sword and proceeded to use it to murder three guards who were only doing their jobs." I am speechless for a moment. It was true. But I had no choice! I would have died otherwise. "Before you say that you had no choice," The Voice continues without waiting for my response, "Do be aware that I too have no choice in the matter. Unlike you, I am responsible not just for my own life, but for all the lives on this world. We both do what we must." "Strawman," I finally manage to grind out, "I killed because I was thrown into that situation. You deliberately set out to threaten Alley." The Voice chortles at my response, "I see, I see. Transmigrator, I remember that you had originally clamored that I provide you with what you refer to as "cheat abilities". I wonder, what would you have done if I had granted you the power that you sought?" "I - " I begin speaking but quickly cut myself off, my face burning with embarrassment. I could imagine The Voice''s amusement at my answer. I would have destroyed anyone who stood in my way. The Voice continues its questioning, "Before you met Mrs Alley, you wanted me to make her your "waifu", without spending a single moment thinking about what she wanted. Why the sudden concern for her well-being Transmigrator?"Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "That''s different," I protest, "I''m not setting out to deliberately hurt anyone. Not like you." The Voice answers with barely concealed smugness, "Enforcing a lifetime of slavery is not setting out to hurt anyone? Gaining powers that would allow you to kill at a whim is not setting out to hurt anyone? You have strange way of looking at things Transmigrator." I am rendered completely speechless. What The Voice is saying hits uncomfortably close to home, but still! It does not make what it did right! I have to hold my ground on this. Then The Voice speaks, all humor gone from its tone, "Answer me honestly. Why are you angry about what happened just now?" I sputter, "Isn''t it obvious? You threatened a woman. You threatened her family." The Voice sighs, "Transmigrator, please. We have established that you do not truly care for the natives of this world. At best you see them as distractions or a source of entertainment. I do not mind that attitude in the least. After all, you have been here for a mere few days only. Now answer the question. Why are you angry?" I begin to make another protest but stop myself, knowing that The Voice would just dismiss it. What is The Voice getting at here? "Staying silent? Then I will be blunt." The Voice rasps, "Are you angry for Mrs Alley''s sake or are you angry because you are afraid of the consequences?" "Afraid? What are you talking about?" I snap. "Afraid of the consequences that arise from threatening her. I have noticed that the root of your dissatisfaction is in your opinion, I have not provided you with enough power. When what you really want is for me to grant you enough power so that you can live a life free of consequence." This is too much. How can you just throw all responsibility on me? I am not going to put up with it! "Yes!" I shout, all patience lost, "I am afraid. I am afraid that Alley will seek revenge against me. I am afraid that the police will find out that I am a murderer. I am afraid that I can never return home." I draw a deep breath and wait for The Voice to reply. When it remains silent, I continue. "I am afraid because I almost died twice. You say that I want to live a life without consequence, but who is the one making the decisions here? Everything I did was on your orders. And you are telling me to bear the consequences? What about you?" Its all too much. I feel the tears welling in my eyes, the stress of my situation threatening to burst through a cracking dam. The Voice finally rasps in a surprisingly gentle tone, "Let it out." And in the quiet corner of a deserted corridor, I cried. ..... How long did I spend crying? I finally managed to dry my tears with my sleeve and return to walking down the corridor. The Voice begins to speak, "I owe you an apology Transmigrator. Things have been difficult for you and as your summoner I bear part of the blame." I give a slight smile and ask, "That''s a start. What about Alley then?" "I will not apologize for that." The Voice states flatly, "What we did was necessary to secure her cooperation and at any rate, Mrs Alley brought it on herself by embezzling Academy funds. I found out about it years ago and sent her an email under the name of "a friend"telling her that I would keep her secret safe but would require her to work off her debt to me. I have kept my part of the bargain. Now its time for Mrs Alley to keep her end of it." "Back to that business of bearing the consequences then, huh?" I frown. "Yes." The Voice agrees, "Mrs Alley''s story is a sad one and one might say she was forced into the position she is in now. Ultimately though, the choices were hers, and the consequences are for her to bear." The Voice pauses for a moment as if considering something. It then continues, "Which brings us back to you. You are right to say that asking you to bear the consequences arising from our adventure is unfair. After all, you were ultimately not given a choice in the matter. Now, with the Crossroads barred, that choice is gone forever. You will bear the consequences simply because you must." I wait for The Voice to continue, but then realize that it is giving me a chance to respond. I grunt to signal my general agreement. "However, that does not mean that I am unable to balance to scales." The Voice continues, "As compensation, I will grant you the strength to shoulder what comes your way." "I will grant you the power that you seek." The Nature of The Voice I pause in my steps and breathe a sigh of relief. The Voice may still be a complete twat, but at the very least it had decided to make a concession in the fact of my outburst instead of doubling down with the threats and mockery. Baby steps. "So what is this power that you are going to grant me?" I ask. "Return to the apartment." The Voice instructs, "Before I vest in you my power, you need to understand something about me. The apartment is the only place I can guarantee our privacy." When I hear The Voice''s response, I shudder. Is this going to be a demonstration like the one we gave Alley just now? Maybe I should stay in a public place where The Voice won''t be quite so eager to dish out retribution? The Voice noticing my feet rooted to the spot, elaborates, "This is not a trap Transmigrator. It is something that you need to know if you want to wield my power. However, what will happen next will likely be very unpleasant for you. Prepare yourself." I nod to myself. I am already armpit deep in shit. Might as well keep going and hope to reach the other side. If there even is an other side. ..... As I walk down the corridor back towards the main entrance, I heave a quiet sigh of relief when I notice all the passersby avoid looking at me. At least my dignity is intact after my emotional breakdown just now. Since The Voice is feeling chatty at the moment, I reckon there is no harm in asking something that has been on my mind for a while. "Hey. Ever since I got here, I keep having this feeling, like I am in a dream, yet not at the same time. What''s up with that?" The Voice rumbles, "A feeling of disassociation perhaps? Like you are on the edge of waking up but cannot?" "Yeah. Just like that. So care to give any answers?" I reply. "What you are feeling is the pull of the Administrator from your world. It is trying to draw your soul back to your sleeping body and cut the link between us." The Voice rasps. So someone from home is out looking for me and trying to get me back. My spirits rise a little upon hearing this. "Why didn''t my world''s administrator succeed way back when you just summoned me then?" I ask, "I have been having this feeling for pretty much the entire time I have been here." "Mr Gallant''s body serves not only as your container in this world," The Voice explains, "but also as an anchor. That was the reason why I summoned only your soul and not your actual body. As long as it is held within something native to this world, my prerogatives over you are absolute. Not even the Administrator from your world will be able to interfere." "You really thought everything out huh." I mutter. "Yes. I have been in this god business for several millennia. More to the point, if your world''s Administrator succeeds in retrieving you now, it would be the equivalent of a death sentence. You would be pulled back to the Crossroads where Fate will happily finish what it had started. Pray that my hold over you never slackens until the completion of our quest." I sigh tiredly. So it comes down to this again. Only by helping The Voice will I be able to help myself. As I am idly looking about, I hear commotion coming from nearby. Sounds like a nasty argument between students. Since I am now a member of the staff here, no harm in checking it out. I peek around the corner and see three students arguing outside the classrooms. One has his hair done up pompadour style and dyed blond. Like incredibly blond. No natural blond could ever look as blond as this guy does. There''s a silver earring hanging from one of this guy''s ears and his uniform is messy and unkempt. His shirt is not tucked in and he''s not bothering with wearing a tie. The school jacket also has an odd pin on the lapel which I can''t make out. He carries himself like a thug, completely out of place with the genteel surroundings of the Academy. The spiritual field surrounding him is strong, stronger than the other students I have seen so far. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. A super powered delinquent then. As if the regular kind weren''t enough trouble. Delinquent pushes the other guy while snarling angrily. The other guy is the complete opposite. Neat, clean cut, clear skin, black hair. The school uniform fits him really well, showing off the contours of his figure. The big defining feature about him are his eyes. Both his eyes are of different color. Its some kind of medical condition isn''t it? Can''t remember the name right now. Other Guy''s face is alight with a righteous expression, enhancing the strong, noble features it already has. A timid looking blue haired girl without any spirituality hides behind Other Guy as he stands between her and the delinquent. I check Other Guy''s spiritual field out. Its definitely on the weaker end of the spectrum, but also really unusual. Its as if he has two spiritual cores that are in constant conflict with each other. Most of his energy seems to be consumed in the never ending battle between the two cores, with the remainder being used to project the nimbus. "Push off!" Delinquent shouts, "Its between me and her!" "No." Other Guy says without blinking, "I will not let you hurt her." The girl hearing this exchange, clutches new guy''s back and sinks her face into it. Delinquent''s expression turns even uglier when he sees this and he looks like he is about to take a swing at Other Guy for real. The classroom door then opens and a teacher pops out scowling at the trio. She says something I can''t hear and gestures at them to get inside. Her gaze however, lingers over Other Guy for a few moments too long. The trio shuffle into the classroom. I then realize that I know who this teacher is. She''s Big Tits from all the way back at the warehouse. Unusual spiritual core. Distinctive visual trait. Overall attractive. Has the attention and possible protection of the police. I gesture at Other Guy and whisper to The Voice, "Is that who I think it is?" "Yes," The Voice confirms, "that is the Hero." .... I lay the files and documents down next to the laptop and make myself comfortable on one of the chairs. Alright," I ask The Voice, "what is your big secret?" The Voice is silent, as if its composing its thoughts. It begins by asking a question, "Transmigrator, do you know what kind of god I am?" "A forgotten one?" I reply thinking back to the cab drive after the warehouse bombing, "No priesthood, no holy scripture. It all fits." "Close," The Voice rasps, "but not exactly correct. I was never forgotten. The natives of this world simply do not know that I exist." My mind blanks for a second before I gather myself, "How is that possible? Wouldn''t you lose all your god powers if that was true?" The Voice rumbles on, "I am a higher level deity, a true god. Before sapient life was even born on this planet, I was already its Administrator. Unlike the gods of man, I do not draw power from faith or worshipers. The earth that this apartment is built on. The air that you breathe. The laptop on the table. These are what I draw my power from, immortal matter, not corruptible souls." "That''s nonsense." I protest, "Then how did you empower the Hero?" The Voice rasps, "That is where you are wrong. I never empowered the Hero. Nor did I empower the Heroines. I do not have the ability to empower anything with a soul, at least not directly. Do you understand what I am saying?" The Voice is clearly teasing at something again. I put on my thinking cap and try to puzzle it out. Did not empower the Hero and Heroines, can''t empower anything with a soul. Huh. I think I got it. "You got to them while they were still in the womb. Before their hearts started beating." I answer. The Voice''s tone lights up with approval, "Very good. That is correct. When they were still soulless husks, I manipulated their bodies, baking in broad instructions and providing the settings needed for the development of their powers. After they were born, they would be unknowingly driven to fulfill the objectives I had buried within them." "Then Fate stepped in," I say, filling in the blanks, "I suppose that means Fate holds power over souls the same way you rule matter?" The Voice grunts in agreement. I continue, "Then why are you concerned about Armageddon? You rule matter. Your power would still be intact after such an event." The Voice sighs tiredly, "Yes. I would survive. However my power rises as the matter under my rule grows more complex. That laptop on the table means more to me than the air you breathe. Armageddon would send this world plummeting back to the stone age, with my power along with it." The light flicks on in my head, "But nuclear war wouldn''t kill all the birds and beasts. Some humans, angels and demons would survive as well. They would begin to thrive once everything had settled down. So this is what the whole thing is really about. A pissing match between you and Fate to see who gets to be the real true god." "Yes. So now you know everything Transmigrator. I fight to protect this world for selfish reasons, but the fact remains that we are all that stands between it and annihilation." The Voice concedes. It was no noble quest from the start. But at least now I knew the stakes involved. And the calculus on my part did not change, only by defeating Fate could I return home. I turn my attention back to the conversation and eagerly ask, "You said that you cannot empower something with a soul "directly". Then how do you plan to grant me powers?" The Price "Transmigrator, do you remember what I told you about relevance?" The Voice asks. I scowl slightly, "Yeah. You said that I was so irrelevant that no one would notice me. What about it?" The Voice rasps, "That is no longer true. You have struck a heavy blow against Fate. So heavy that Fate has deigned to make you its enemy. You are now a force in this world. You are relevant." "So how does that help with the whole powers thing?" I query. "As higher deities, beings like Fate and myself are not bound by the concept of jurisdiction or spheres of authority. My authority is absolute over anything that exists in this dimension, including souls. The only limiting factor is strength. Fate and myself will only accept a constraint laid upon us that we cannot overcome with our strength." The Voice says. "So that''s how Fate engineered the accident that was supposed to kill Gallant?" I respond. "Correct. Fate may rule over souls, but matter will also bow to a being of that level of power. Unless of course, a being of equal power but greater affinity with matter intervenes." The Voice rasps. I hum thoughtfully, "Sounds like similar to how big shots operate back home actually. I get what you are saying so far. You have the ability to grant powers, but Fate will intervene, reversing your work, am I right? I am assuming you have a way to get around this?" "Of course I do," The Voice scoffs, "otherwise we would not be having this conversation. You are the key Transmigrator. Fate knows you exist, but does not actually know who you are and what you are capable of. As Fate cannot directly observe someone not part of its web, all it knows about you is a garbled account of what happened at the warehouse. An account that gives you far more credit than you deserve." "Thanks for the vote of confidence there." I grumble. "Similar to what was done at the warehouse, the preconceptions of our opponent will be used against it. Fate already implicitly accepts that you have certain powers. I will use my authority as a higher deity to grant you those powers in the guise of unsealing capabilities that you had already possessed back in your home dimension. When you deploy your powers in the field, Fate will notice but begrudgingly accept that those powers have always been yours as it has no way of proving otherwise. Once that happens, perception will become reality." The Voice explains. I think for a moment. Sounds good, there are issues with the plan. "One problem, actually make that two." I say, "Firstly, wouldn''t Fate notice you working your magic on Gallant''s body and at the very least investigate? It would quickly realize that I don''t have any powers at all. Secondly, if the powers you can give me are tied to what I did at the warehouse, wouldn''t those powers be fairly unimpressive? I just used plastic explosives and stabbed a few guards after all."Stolen novel; please report. The Voice responds, "The first issue you raised is something that I have already accounted for. Its also the reason why I wanted to have this conversation here in the apartment. This apartment is a territory that I absolutely control. Fate cannot perceive anything within it. It will not know that I had operated on Gallant''s body as long as the operation is done here." What? Operation? "For the second issue," The Voice sighs regretfully, "I am afraid that is something that you will have to deal with. I will try to stretch how much power I can grant you under the circumstances, but if I go too far, Fate will challenge me on the powers I have granted, and that will cost you everything. This issue is also linked to a potential complication that I will go into if you understand everything so far." I knew it. There always has to be something that crops up. "Alright. Lay it on me then." I say while narrowing my eyes. "As you have probably already noticed, Mr Gallant, like yourself, does not possess magic. The reason for this is because both your souls are too weak to form a spiritual core. Without a spiritual core, any powers that I grant you will not be able to manifest. As both of you are grown men of age, your respective souls will not strengthen any further. There is a way to get around this, and it is that piece of unpleasantness I mentioned to you back at the Academy." I brace myself mentally for whatever may be coming as The Voice continues. "I can build an artificial spiritual core for you using a sliver of my divinity. That artificial core will then be implanted into Mr Gallant''s body. In order to control this artificial core, a portion of your soul will need to be broken off and fused with it. Whenever you wish to deploy your powers, you will signal the soul fragment within the core to release the core''s energy." Breaking off part of my soul? Would I ever be able to get it back? "However, the complication does not stop there. Outside of Fate, I am an existence greater than any on this world. No native can bear the burden of wielding the mantle of my power. Their souls would immolate and their bodies tear apart from the strain. Transmigrator, as an alien, your soul has a better chance of surviving. The problem here is Mr Gallant." Gallant. I had forgotten all about him. This concerns him as well right? "Which is why I need to operate on Mr Gallant''s body. I need to modify it so that it can withstand the stress of holding the core. Even so, activating the core will likely damage his body. These modifications are irreversible and will mark Mr Gallant for life. So is the process of breaking off part of your soul. This is the price that must be paid for the power you seek." I swallow hard. I should have realized that with The Voice, nothing comes for free. "I cannot ask Mr Gallant for his opinion. The choice to decide has been taken away from him. In a way Transmigrator, you are now in the position I was in when you were first summoned. It will be your choices that will determine the consequences that another will have to face for the rest of his life. So, knowing everything that I have told you, what is your decision?" I smile bitterly, my cheeks red with shame. Gallant marked for life through no fault of his own. Just as I was abducted through no fault of my own. He would pay the price and bear the consequences for something that is to my benefit. The right thing to do would be to refuse. Refuse and ask The Voice to cast me back into the Crossroads. Gallant would go on to live his life none the wiser and The Voice would seek out another soul to abduct. But I am selfish. I don''t want to die. I am selfish in the same way The Voice is selfish when it has no problem trampling over others in order to protect its position. The same way I don''t mind trampling over another to save my own skin. Maybe The Voice is truly my destined summoner, just as I am its destined summons. I harden my heart and say, "I accept." The Siege "Tensei, they are still out there." the blue haired girl says to me after she peeks out of the window and scurries back to the bed, hugging herself. I frown, looking from the window of my room at the small group of heavies that had parked themselves just outside of the student dorm. Ken had really gone too far this time. "Tensei, its all my fault. I will go out and meet them. Ken would not let them take things too far." Celeste, our class representative, says with a quavering voice, having come to a decision. I gently put my hand on Celeste''s shoulder and shake my head, "You don''t know that class rep. Ken and his entire family are angry at you for campaigning in favor of handing the Six Trees District over to the Host for redevelopment. Everyone is saying that the matter was decided when you interrupted the Council in session and handed over the petition." Celeste blushes shyly and turns away, fiddling with the bow of her school uniform, "Ah. I do not think what I did was all that important. The Council must have already had the idea in their minds. Ken''s family are bad people Tensei, you don''t know what how they have bullied the other residents of Six Trees. With the Host around, at least we can feel safe." "You think Ken is a bad person as well?" I ask Celeste. Celeste hesitates, "I don''t know. Ken scares me. I think he hates me in particular because I am half angel. He wanted to hit you today too." "He did, didn''t he?" I respond, "But Celeste, he could have caused a much bigger scene at school today but didn''t. Ken held himself back. I don''t think Ken is a bad person. I just think he feels obligated to stand up for his family." Celeste''s frown deepens as she puffs her cheeks, emphasizing her baby faced features, "Ken is just scared of Ms Scott. I heard from the student council that Ms Scott is really strong. Like she is supposed to be as strong as Mr Trietel, and Mr Trietel is a Legion veteran." I raise my eyebrows when I hear this, "Mr Trietel, the music teacher?" Celeste nods. I would never have guessed that Mr Trietel used to be with the Legion as a soldier. He is always talking about music and his love for it. He is also really gentlemanly and cultured. The last person you would guessed to have taken up soldiering in the past. "Well, if Ken really wanted to hurt us, the goon squad would have rushed in here already. I like to think the best of other people." I reassure Celeste, "So just relax." Celeste gives me a weak smile and says, "I have caused you trouble Tensei, by hiding in your room and attracting Ken''s people here, but you are still so kind to me." I shake my head and tell her its not a problem before turning back to the window. It looks like the heavies are arguing among themselves now. "Tensei?" Celeste asks in a nervous voice, "If those guys are not coming in here, then, well, you are a boy and I am a girl right? So shouldn''t we take the chance to do boy and girl things together? I wouldn''t mind if its with -" Celeste''s gentle, demure voice is drowned out by a loud banging on my door. "I didn''t get what you were saying Celeste." I tell her as I my attention is pulled towards the door. I open the door and see a livid looking girl with long black hair and elegant bearing despite just wearing t-shirt and jeans glaring at me. "Tensei! What in the world is going on? Someone told me that you had brought a girl into the boy''s dorms!" the girl demands as she pushes past me into my room. "Sera! Wait, let me explain!" I chase after her. Sera is really particular on discipline. She gets it from her father. I have lived with Sera''s family for the past few years before we enrolled together at the Academy. I should know. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. "Class rep!" Sera exclaims in surprise, a scandalized look on her face as she sees Celeste seated on my bed with the bow of her uniform partially undone. Celeste shrinks back, her face completely red. Its all a misunderstanding! I have to salvage the situation now! But before I can get a word out, Sera''s hand flies towards my face, delivering a hard slap. .... "So that''s what happened." I finally conclude, as I massage my sore cheek with the ice pack Celeste had prepared for me. At least Sera did not draw her sword on me. Why does she always carry that thing around anyway? Sera harrumphs with dissatisfaction and glares, "You could have told me that earlier you know. I am an active member of SOPO after all. Dealing with clowns like these is part of my job." Celeste cuts in with stars in her eyes, "Yes. I heard about that. They called you a prodigy right Sera? That''s why you were inducted into SOPO at such a young age." Sera''s grin threatens to split her face in two. I continue massaging my cheek as I watch Sera boasting to Celeste about how amazing she is. After getting to know Celeste, I have realized that she is a very easily impressed person, especially by people who have magic. That is probably because despite her half angel blood, Celeste cannot cast spells at all. She is completely mundane. Combined with Celeste''s shy and retiring nature, it allows people with stronger personalities, like Sera, to easily dominate any interaction. By the time I decide to interrupt, Sera almost has poor Celeste eating out of her hand. I face palm mentally. How did I manage to get such friends? One a prodigy, another so pure as to be completely gullible. "Well anyway, " I waive my hand to get their attention, "those guys are just loitering outside. No need to pick a fight where none exists right?" Sera frowns but eventually nods in agreement saying, "With both of us here, Celeste is completely safe. No way a pack of two bit muscle can get through us. I will make a report to HQ tomorrow, ask them to investigate Ken''s family for intimidation, though I doubt anything will come out of it. SOPO does not deal with cases like these and ever since Ken''s family started approaching the Legion for support, ORPO''s attitude towards them has changed completely." I sigh. Politics. The bane of my life from the day I was born right up to now. Even here with my friends, it rears its ugly head. My thoughts are interrupted by a commotion coming from the window. I peer out again and see the group of heavies engaged with an argument with a man dressed like a staff member. Crap. Probably someone from the faculty saw these guys loitering about and decided to chase them away. The heavies look like they are not about to back down though. In fact, they appear to be preparing to fight. "Sera," I call my friend over and point to the argument going on downstairs, "Looks like things are about to get ugly." Sera nods and immediately heads for the door saying, "Tensei, come with me. Its four on one, that staffer will need our help. Celeste, stay here and lock the door." "No! I am coming with you as well!" Celeste protests as we all leave my room and rush downstairs. .... "I feel like shit." I grumble to The Voice as I lumber across the grounds of the campus, taking in the night air. After I told The Voice my decision, I was instructed to lie down on the bed. After that was sheer, unadulterated pain. It felt like both my insides and outsides were being taken apart and put together again. The worst part was that it went on for hours and hours. By the time The Voice told me that it was done, night had already fallen. When I could move again, the first thing I did was to feel Gallant''s body for any of the changes The Voice had made. I couldn''t see them, but my hands felt fresh scars crisscrossing the whole of Gallant''s body except his face. The Voice was not joking around when it said that Gallant would be marked for life. I felt a twinge of guilt, but at least Gallant would still be able to get by if he just sticks to long sleeves and trousers for the rest of his life. The Voice admonishes, "You should be back in the apartment resting. Some light study would also be recommended." "Liar." I reply in the flattest tone I could manage, "You told me after the operation that the body was functioning at full capacity. That means that the discomfort is just in my mind. You want me to start reading those files Alley gave me, isn''t it?" The Voice rumbles, "You will have to read them soon anyway. Why put off something that you can do now?" "Because I have earned a break after completing my PhD on the wonderful world of torture and pants shitting terror, that''s why." I reply lazily as I take another deep breath of cool night air, "Now hush Professor." The Voice obliges me and I continue my rambling, aimless walk across the campus. I take a look at the clear night sky, with countless stars shining down on me. Is my body still waiting for me out in the void? Will my world''s Administrator keep trying to get me back? I didn''t have the answers for those questions, and I did not feel comfortable asking The Voice either. I could only do what I was already doing, walking forward, one step at a time. Putting Theory Into Practice As I make a circuit around the entire campus, I notice that there is a small group of arguing men gathered in front of the boy''s dorm. And those men don''t look like they have any business here. Dressed in cheap suits and smoking cigarettes, they look like the kind of shady characters you don''t want to meet in a dark alley. "What''s going on there?" I ask The Voice. The Voice pauses for a moment before replying, "Trouble. But nothing to do with us. Carry on with your walk Transmigator." I am about to take The Voice''s advise when I see a familiar figure looking out of one of the dorm''s windows. I squint and confirm my suspicions. Its the Hero. "You sure about that trouble not being our problem?" I ask The Voice, "because it looks to me that the Hero is somehow involved." The Voice this time takes almost a full minute to respond, and when it does, its tone is unsure, "Everything I have before me indicates that this incident is not part of a crisis orchestrated by Fate. It may as well be an event that although involves the Hero, does not affect the ultimate outcome of his destiny. However, you raise a good point Transmigrator. There may be more than meets the eye here." "Then as a responsible member of the staff, I shall investigate this matter. After all, it concerns the well-being of the Academy''s students." I whisper to The Voice as I begin creeping up on the group of thugs. ... "No, we should just leave. Young master told us that he would handle it himself." One of the thugs protests just as I reach hearing range. Examining the group of 4 thugs, I notice that three of them, two humans and one scaly skinned demon, have no spiritual field. These guys however have tried to make up for their lack of magic by engaging in the time honored practice of steroid abuse. I can see that underneath the cheap suits, their bodies are hard with corded muscle and their bodies have grown way bigger than any normal person could have. The fourth guy however, both sparkles like an angel and exudes a nimbus of energy of what I consider average strength. He does not bother with wearing a shirt underneath his coat and proudly shows off his abs to the world. "All three races on the same team, looks like the whole unity business is working out nicely." I murmur. "The pin on their jackets," The Voice responds, "Matsui crime family enforcers. All the way from the Six Trees District." I take a closer look at the pins The Voice was referring to. At this range, I can''t make it out clearly, but it certainly looks similar to the pin Delinquent was wearing earlier today. Abs Angel snarls and makes a cutting motion with his hand, "You guys want to trouble young master with this? That girl messes things up for the family, refuses to pay proper respect to young master and now cowers behind a busybody. Young master is bound by his honor to treat the busybody with a minimum of respect, when that bastard is not worth the dirt on young master''s shoes." The other thugs seem to agree with this statement and nod hesitantly. Abs Angel continues, "If young master cannot take action, then we will bear the dishonor for him. For the sake of the family, its the least we can do." This time, the other thugs begin to nod more enthusiastically. If this goes on, the group is likely to march upstairs and confront the Hero. "Hey. What are the Hero''s chances against this lot?" I ask The Voice. "Good. The Hero is currently being accompanied by one of the Heroines. This mob is no match for their combined strength." The Voice responds. So The Voice''s initial appraisal was right. What''s happening is not some crisis event, but just another day in the life of the Hero. Still, if the stakes are this low, it gives me an idea. "If I intervene, the Hero would not leave the area right?" I ask The Voice. "No, I do not believe so. What are you planning to do Transmigrator?" The Voice dubiously asks. "The best time to practice is when there is a safety net available." I say as I walk openly towards the group. .... I cast my mind back to The Voice''s lectures after it had completed enhancing me. As my power is part of this world, activating the core will mean that you can no longer hide behind your alien nature. Any natives nearby will immediately notice you. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it I signal the core to activate. A familiar warmth bursts from my chest and spreads throughout my body. My senses immediately become more sensitive and I feel a surge of strength throughout my body. At the same time, the group of thugs immediately turn to face me with surprised expressions. As time is of the essence, I am not able to properly train you in combat. Thankfully, Fate already believes that you are an experienced killer, so that allows me to impart a thorough knowledge of physical combat as part of your power set. You will have an instinctive sense of how to best deploy that knowledge based on the choices you make in battle. Any techniques you employ will also be executed at their theoretical maximum effectiveness. Nevertheless, this ability will not protect you from bad judgment on your own part. As the thugs glower at me, I flex my experimentally and feel the core''s power infuse my muscles. The thugs tense and begin shifting into a combat stance. "Get lost." Abs Angel tells me. I grin, "You are the ones trespassing here. And I don''t think that you are the students'' relatives." The four thugs look at each other and begin advancing on me. The sliver of power I have granted you is the closest to infinity that you will ever reach. When you fight, you do not need to fear physical exhaustion. Nor do you need to fear the source of your magic running dry. The two human thugs charge at me with their fists raised. I easily see through their clumsy feints and dodge their attacks. They charge at me once more, this time in a pincer movement. I snort derisively and somersault over their attempt at trapping me. Compared to my enhanced speed and agility, these guys might as well be tortoises. No wonder Eagle Claw had such an easy time dealing with me. I have also shared with you my ability to sense matter. It is heavily diluted as your mind would not be able to bear the strain of processing so much information, but it will allow you to keep track of an item you are focusing on or your opponents in the immediate vicinity. Unless your enemies have chosen to fight completely nude. I will let you know once I have resolved this weakness. I sense scales guy approaching me from the rear. I dart forward before turning around, causing him to flail helplessly at my shadow. I smile. While I know that these powers are likely on the low end of the scale, I can''t help but feel elated. At last, I have the ability to defend myself. I am no longer the smallest fish in the pond. While you will never tire, Mr Gallant''s body suffers damage from the use of my power with every move you take. Allow it to accrue too much damage, and it will spectacularly tear itself apart. Economy and efficiency must be your mantra if you wish to survive for long. As scales guy regains his composure and moves towards me again, I step forward and lash out with the ball of my right foot straight to his chin. The blow connects cleanly and scales guy is rocketed off his feet and lands in a heap. I turn to face the pair of humans trying to rush me as a duo again. This time I do not dodge, Instead I bolt straight at them and deliver a double clothesline that sends the pair spinning in the air before face planting on the ground. I glare at Abs Angel from the corner of my eye and ask, "Still want to do this the hard way?" Abs Angel snorts and dramatically throws off his jacket, showing off the entirety of his muscled physique to the world. I roll my eyes. Nice try at intimidation man, no homo. Abs Angel''s nimbus suddenly flares and a pair of golden wings sprout from his back. The wings draw the power of the nimbus into themselves and as my eyes widen at the sight, Abs Angel briskly flaps his wings once in my direction, releasing the energy from the nimbus in a shock wave. I have no time to react. Abs Angel moves much faster than those three other guys. The shock wave hits me square in the chest and I am sent flying backwards. As matter is eternal, so long as Mr Gallant''s body is not destroyed by my power itself, it too shall stand eternal against all other dangers. There is no force in this world that can pierce your flesh or break your bones. Of course, there is a price to be paid for this boon. The greater the harm, the more you must drink from the core in order to resist it, with all the dangers it entails. I flip back up to my feet snarling. My entire body tingles with the sensation of pins and needles. Is that the sensation of the damage being done to Gallant''s body? Looks like I have to get serious here. As you had left no traces of your spirituality upon killing the guards at the warehouse, I can allow you to use your powers without the need to deploy the spiritual nimbus. However, should you choose to deploy the spiritual nimbus like a regular mage, you will find that the amount of power from the core that you can channel will increase several fold, with a corresponding increase to the damage inflicted on Mr Gallant''s body of course. I signal the core to increase its output and flare my spiritual nimbus. If Abs Angel wants to use special abilities, then lets see whose are better huh? A burning sensation blasts through my veins as I focus the core on Abs Angel, slamming waves of my spirituality against him. Abs Angel''s movements suddenly lock up and a look of panic crosses his face. Its exactly like what happened to me at the warehouse. So this is what its like to suppress someone with your spirituality. I grin hungrily. I have been waiting for this moment. "The Greedy Wolf Pounces." My body blurs towards Abs Angel while he is still struggling against the hold of my spirituality. I grab one of Abs Angel''s wings with both hands and give it a hard pull. With a sick ripping sound and the spraying of blood, the entire wing disconnects. The spell that I had cast is immediately broken and Abs Angel staggers backwards, howling like a wounded beast. Your experience at the warehouse has given you an affinity at striking down the vulnerable. When you focus your attention on a vulnerable opponent, you will be able to sense the locations you can strike to inflict critical damage. Without missing a beat, my foot drives remorselessly into Abs Angel''s crotch. It hits with a wet thump and a bloody stain starts to spread across Abs Angel''s trousers. He starts foaming in the mouth before collapsing to the ground unconscious. I turn to regard the other three thugs and they immediately drop to their knees begging for mercy. Its over. I have won. I have won! I cut the power from the core and grimace as soreness spreads over my whole body. My arms feel like they are about to pop out of their sockets. Well, the powers certainly do what they were advertised to do. The Voice was not bullshitting me on that at least. Then I realize something. There are three students standing slack jawed at the entrance of the dorm watching my entire performance. Shit. Mr Greer "There''s blood everywhere..." Celeste wails in a voice that sounds like she is about to break out in tears at any moment. I swallow hard and look at the staffer that we had rushed downstairs to save. Not that he needed our help anyway. It looks like he is using that torn off wing from the angel to menace the other heavies that are on their knees blubbering. Sera whispers to me, "Tensei, do you recognize that staffer?" I shake my head. This is the first time I have ever seen this person on the campus. Sera nods imperceptibly and whispers again, "Me neither. Be careful. This guy might be another intruder and I don''t think he will be as easy to deal with as those clowns." Sera''s hand tightens over the grip of her saber and I feel a subtle shift in the pressure around me. Sera''s preparing to fight. I begin to gather my spiritual strength as well. I don''t want to fight, but I will to protect my precious friends. The staffer finally turns around and sees us with a look of surprise on his face. Did he only just notice us? I suppose with the fight going on, his attention was elsewhere. His face immediately breaks into a smile which I suppose is meant to be reassuring. The blood splattered on his clothes and the broken wing in his hands spoils the effect though. Celeste whimpers and hides behind me. "Good evening everyone." The staffer says over enthusiastically, "the disturbance has been resolved and you can go back to the dorms now." The look on Sera''s face just grows even stiffer as the knuckles of her hand gripping the saber turn white. "Might we ask who you are sir? I don''t believe we have met." Sera asks in as calm a voice as possible. I feel cold sweat run down my back. How long would I last against this guy if it really came down to it? "Of course! Of course! Manners right? David Greer, at your service." the staffer says with a strained smile as he pushes the broken wing at Sera. When Mr Greer notices Sera take a step back, a look of realization crosses his face and he tosses the broken wing back at the three gangsters who squeak with fear as they scramble backwards. Mr Greer then extends his bloodstained right hand once more towards Sera for a handshake. When Sera blanches at the sight, yet another look of realization crosses Mr Greer''s face as he retracts the hand and says apologetically, "Sorry if I don''t shake." To break the awkwardness, I decide to speak to Mr Greer, "Have you been working here long sir?" Mr Greer, who had reached for a jacket that lay discarded on the ground and was cleaning his hands on it responds, "No. No. I just joined the administration department today in fact. I am a recent arrival to The City." Sera''s eyes narrow and she asks, "May I see your identification sir?" Mr Greer smiles patronizingly at Sera and replies, "Since when do the students make demands of their teachers young lady?" Sera immediately draws her police badge from her jeans and shoves it in front of Mr Greer''s face. "I am asking not as a student, but as a member of the police investigating a possible crime." Mr Greer squints at the badge and sighs. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a staff ID, handing it to Sera. "There you go, Officer Naiberg. Aren''t you a bit young to be working as a cop? It was self defense by the way." I take a look at the ID in Sera''s hand. David Greer. Administration Department. Issued today. Looks like Mr Greer is who he says he is. Sera passes her badge to Celeste, saying, "Celeste, head back upstairs and call the police. Tell the operator my badge number and ask them to send a squad car to pick up suspects and an ambulance for someone badly injured." Mr Greer waives his hands about protesting, "It was self defense!" Sera glares at Mr Greer, "I will need to take a statement from you to determine that." She then turns to me and says, "Stick around Tensei, I will need to take a statement from you and Celeste as well." Looks like its going to be a long night. ....Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Sera took Celeste''s statement first and after that quickly called a cab to take her home over Celeste''s protests to stay with us. When Mr Greer was distracted by the ambulance and the other officers arriving to bundle away the heavies, Sera whispered to me that she was afraid that Mr Greer would become violent again later during the interview and that Celeste could get hurt. "I am here as well you know," I told Sera, "Mr Greer is well, strange, but I don''t feel hostility coming from him. The two of us should be able to restrain him if anything happens." "Hmph," Sera pouts, "as if I need your help. But since you offered, I suppose I could put you to work a little. I will save your statement for the last then." "Always so harsh." I mumble to myself as Sera calls Mr Greer over to take his statement. .... So I sat in while Mr Greer was telling his side of the story to Sera. He had apparently received an offer to work here and had arrived yesterday night at the campus. Since he did not own a place of his own in The City, the Academy had provided an apartment at the staff block for him. Mr Greer spent today at the Administration Department sorting out the details of his employment before returning to his apartment to rest. He then came out for an evening walk, saw four suspicious men loitering about and tried to get them to leave. They refused and attacked him, leading up to what happened next. "Self defense!" Mr Greer concludes, raising his voice for emphasis. Sera does not respond and instead checks her notes before asking, "You said you just arrived in The City right?" Mr Greer nods. "Do you have any other identification other than what was issued by The City or the Academy?" Sera asks looking at Mr Greer straight in the eye. Mr Greer shakes his head and says, "No. I originally came from Oxford you see." I frown. How is that relevant to anything? Sera is also clearly trying to trap Mr Greer, but on what ground? Sera scowls as she responds, "How convenient." "Yes." Mr Greer replies with a smug, beaming look, "This place is just like home, before all the war and associated nastiness." Mr Greer''s expression then slips into a far away look as he says, "It was terrible you know. I still get nightmares about it. Please don''t ask me about that time." I feel the annoyance start to rise from Sera as her scowl only deepens at Mr Greer''s answer. "So about that identification." she reiterates. "All lost when Oxford was leveled during the war." Mr Greer smiles, "I applied for City ID as soon as I managed to get a position here and received a dispensation with regard for any previous ID on humanitarian grounds. You are welcome to check City records if you want officer." Mr Greer then shifts his head to the side, as if he is listening to something, the smile on his face growing broader. I don''t hear anything though. What could it be? Sera then changes tack and asks, "I suppose you have someone that can vouch for your employment here?" "Of course. Ask Mrs Alley at Administration." Mr Greer replies easily. Sera nods and hands the statement over to Mr Greer for him to sign it. After that is done, Mr Greer disappears into the night, heading back to the staff block. ... "So fake." Sera complains to me once Mr Greer is out of sight, "That was the phoniest thousand yard stare I have ever seen." "What are you talking about Sera?" I ask her, "Mr Greer''s story is consistent with what had happened." Sera shakes her head, "Its not the story Tensei. Don''t you find it suspicious that there is a new staffer sniffing around the school who shows up without warning and happily brutalizes anyone he fights?" "Well he did get a job offer." I say. "That''s just it," Sera explains, "As far as I know, the administration department was not hiring anyone new. Yet this Mr Greer suddenly shows up. Also, the Academy is a prestigious institution, someone like Mr Greer would never have passed the initial assessments." "That''s not fair to him," I protest, "The Academy hires former soldiers as well, like Mr Trietel right?" Sera shakes her head, "Mr Trietel has all his papers in order. Open his employee file and you will find a complete record of where he was born, his former unit in the Legion, where he fought, his academic qualifications and so on. Mr Trietel''s past is an open book, unlike Mr Greer''s." "Well, Mr Greer did provide an explanation for that." I say. "Which is completely bogus." Sera dismisses, "Mr Greer has conveniently used a destroyed city as his point of origin to remove the need for him to provide an explanation of his past. I am sure if we check City records, all we will find is Mr Greer''s application for new identification and approval from the local government on the ground that he was a refugee who lost his home." "Well, you could check with Administration instead if he is really so suspicious." I offer, "Why are you getting so worked up about this anyway?" Sera smiles gently at me and says, "I am worried about you Tensei. Your family never accepted you getting away from them and will sooner or later try something. Other people will also become interested in your connection with the von Amsturgs as the date draws closer. They will try to rope you in, whether you like it or not. I am just scared because I don''t know who the person is behind this Mr Greer." A wave of anger rises within me. Politics. Again. "I already told uncle that I was not interested and he could do whatever he wants. I just want to live my life in peace." I say. Sera reaches out and touches my hand with hers. "And I will help you do that. So please trust my feelings." I hold Sera''s hand tightly in my own. I am blessed to have such good friends. I cannot let them down. A Necessary Bargain As soon as I am out of the Hero''s and Magic Police Girl''s sight, my gait immediately slouches and I gasp in discomfort. The Voice had assured me that the damage Gallant''s body had suffered was not life threatening, but it still hurt a fair amount, like a million pulled muscles. I needed to get back to the apartment as soon as possible so that The Voice could start repairing Gallant''s body. "Is this going to be a thing? Running back to the apartment after every fight?" I grumble. The Voice responds, "Only if you want the body repaired in good time. You could try using mundane medical treatment or magical healing, but the expense will quickly rack up and the speed of recovery would be much slower. Not to mention the all the awkward questions that you would have to answer. I am confident that short of a truly devastating level of damage, I can quickly restore Mr Gallant''s body after your misadventures." "So how long am I going to be grounded from that fight just now?" I ask as I round a corner and approach the apartment block. "A bit more that an hour." The Voice says, "You took a heavy magical attack on your torso. It would have sliced open Mr Gallant''s belly if not for my power." I unlock the door of the apartment and walk in, turning on the lights at the same time. "Shit." I mutter, "That angel was willing to escalate to that level of force so easily?" The Voice laughs, "Well you were throwing about his gang members like they were rag dolls. You escalated fairly quickly yourself, crippling and castrating him like that. Lie on the bed so that I can start the repair work." I chuck off the bloodstained clothes and toss them into the bathroom. Since I could no longer find the seawater soaked set of clothes that I had left inside the bathroom this morning, I am assuming The Voice simply disposes of all my damaged clothes. "I have been meaning to ask you about the fight," I say as I lie down on the bed, "When I triggered the core, I felt the same warmth that I first felt during the drowning incident. Were you pumping me with your power back then as well?" The Voice rumbles, "Not exactly. I infused my power into the seawater that Mr Gallant was drowning on, forcing it to release oxygen into his body. If I had directly empowered Mr Gallant before your soul had completely taken control, his body would have very messily exploded. Even so, indirectly exposing his body to my power like that caused some internal injuries which I had to mend while you slept." I recall the flecks of blood that I had retched out with the seawater and shudder involuntarily. That was too close. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. "Another thing," I ask as the pain begins to fade, "I got this weird feeling, of how do I put it? Euphoria. That''s right. Euphoria, when I was swimming out of the car wreck and when I was fighting those gangsters just now. Like I wanted to really cut loose. What''s the deal with that?" "No idea." The Voice answers indifferently, "My best guess would be that since you do not have powers of your own, being exposed to mine provides a massive rush of sensation. My advise would be for you to exercise better self-control and not fly off the handle. Trying to castrate your future opponents may not be the optimal course of action." "So noted. And David Greer? Really?" I respond. "Yes. Really. Now that Mr Gallant has been classed as a missing person and with the evidence of the car wreck, the police will quickly come to the conclusion the Mr Gallant is sadly deceased and will seal his records. The new name is close enough to the original to be easily remembered and allows us to operate free of any of Mr Gallant''s past attachments or life complications. That is the reason why I spawned a City identification for you under that name and subsequently gave it to Mrs Alley to register your employment at the Academy." I feel guilty when The Voice says this. Will Gallant ever get his life back? Or will he be forced to live as Greer from now on? "Good work on befuddling Heroine Naiberg by the way." The Voice commends, "I had not thought of Mr Greer''s backstory but you had everything in hand." I smile to myself. What I had described to Magic Police Girl was just a common scam used by illegal asylum seekers. I had recognized where the Dreaming Spires District had originally come from and knowing that it was a fragment of a ruined city, the rest simply fell into place. "I don''t think she bought the bull I was selling though," I respond, "But as long as you can spawn all the proper documentation and Mrs Alley does her part, I don''t think the police can prove anything." The Voice chortles, "Heroine Naiberg will not find anything that will justify her suspicions of you Transmigrator, so have no fear of that. Though you would have made a better impression on her and the Hero if you did not act like a violent lunatic in front of them." "Like you said, I''ll take care not to fly off the handle from now on," I say, "What about that other girl?" The Voice rumbles, "What other girl? Just stay still for now and let me work." I nod and shut my eyes, thinking about what The Voice had said. The whole business about granting me powers, I have realized that it was just The Voice giving with one hand and taking with the other. If I want to use those powers, I will have to accept the fact that I need the Voice to maintain and repair Gallant''s body. The powers are just a leash that The Voice had tricked me into putting on. Still, it was a bargain that needed to be made. Now I have the means of defending myself against anything that Fate may throw my way. I think about calling out The Voice about what it had done, but eventually give up on the idea. Not only would The Voice not care, as long as The Voice was confident about being able to abduct someone else in time to prevent Armageddon, I would not be getting any better deals from it. Before I called out The Voice again, I needed to somehow prove my value, that I was an asset worthy of investing in. On the other hand, I could wait for The Voice to get desperate. But who knows if I had that kind of time. A problem for the future then, I decide, and put the matter out of mind. The Birth of The Hero I rub my eyes tiredly as I take a break from reviewing the files Alley had given me yesterday. The Voice through the laptop had also provided additional material for me to study. Surveillance photos, confidential reports, historical documents, recorded telephone conversations, you name it, The Voice dug it up. As to what I was studying, it was the circumstances of the Hero and the Heroines. I suspected that by the time I was through with all the material in front of me, I would know the Hero and Heroines better than they knew themselves. Oh yes, Heroines. The Hero was being given the choice of multiple paths here. But lets leave them aside for the moment and deal with the man of the hour first. The Hero, or as he is better known, Tensei von Amsterg, was born during the Millennium War. His father was Abe von Amsterg, the mother, most interestingly, was an angel by the name of Julianne Etoil. At this stage of the war, the Legion was losing badly and had been pushed by the Host back to their European stronghold in Berlin. Abe von Amsterg was the second brother of the House of von Amsterg and as a demon of noble birth, it was his duty to defend his family''s holdings on earth. What''s that you ask? Family holdings? Oh yes. It gets more complicated. Strap in. Unlike home, world war 2 did not happen in this dimension. What happened in its place was the Iron Octopus Crisis, an incident where a group of German cultists, the Order of the Iron Octopus, through some form of dark ritual, made contact with demons and entered into a conspiracy with them to conquer the world. Eventually the Iron Octopus managed to rip open a portal to hell and the demons began sending reinforcements to aid in this venture. With these reinforcements came what would become the von Amsterg family. Originally foot soldiers sent to assist the Iron Octopus, the von Amstergs through merits earned in battle rose in prominence. After the Iron Octopus took over Germany, the von Amstergs were rewarded with noble rank, heraldry and land. The von Amstergs in return took a human family name instead of calling themselves N''bshahtgl or whatever and pretty much went native. When the fortunes of the Iron Octopus waned, the von Amstergs quickly threw their support, and their house army, behind the emerging civilian German government. With their help, a new government was formed and the von Amstergs were forgiven of any past indiscretions. The House then settled into a peaceful existence, not making waves. Until the Millennium War of course. With the arrival of the Legion, the von Amstergs were quickly back in the thick of things. Leadership of the House was in the hands of the two brothers, the elder Gustav and the younger Abe. The Legion quickly recognized them as infernal nobility, conferring on them the rank of general and helping to expand their armies. Gustav and Abe, recognizing this as a chance to rise further in the world, went along. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Several years later, the war had gone sour, leaving Gustav and Abe fighting to defend the lands that their patriarch had left to them. The Host was pressing them hard, and one of the officers in the Host army was an angel named Julianne Etoil. From the histories I have in front of me, she was supposed to be a peerless beauty among an already beautiful race. That beauty was to be her ruin. In the clash between Host and Legion forces that day, Abe mounted a daring counterattack, successfully pushing back the Host. Most histories attribute the Legion''s continued existence in Europe to Abe''s victory. In the chaotic rout of the Host army, Abe swept through them, killing and most importantly for this tale, taking spoils of war, one of which was Julianne. Abe proceeded to happily despoil the spoils of war but that pleasant man was subsequently killed during the massive Legion counterattack that pushed the Host out of large swaths of Europe. His brother took full control of House von Amsterg and a decision was made to get rid of Julianne, who the House saw as dead weight. What changed everything though, was the discovery that Julianne was pregnant with Tensei. Abe never married and had no children. Despite the unsavory circumstances of his birth, Tensei was the closest thing to an heir Abe had. The blood of House von Amsterg flowed in his veins and he had a legitimate claim as the successor of his father. So from the moment of his conception, the Hero had already saved someone''s life, his mother''s. Gustav was unhappy at this discovery, but chose to respect the blood connection he shared with Tensei. He put Julianne under house arrest and after Tensei was born, raised Tensei in the style of a distant relative. This caused conflict within Gustav''s own family, as they feared that House von Amsterg would once again be split into two lines, but this time, one of the lines being polluted with angel blood. House von Amsterg had by this time become a big deal. When the truce was signed after the nuclear strikes, Gustav was in control of a large chunk of Europe. The Legion allowed House von Amsterg to rule these territories in their name and Gustav was conferred the rank of Prince. It was little wonder that Tensei had become something of a hot potato in the family. Tensei also drew the attention of the UN P5. Seeking to weaken Legion rule over Europe through a successor that they could control, the P5 made contact with Julianne who was still languishing under house arrest. A plot was hatched where Julianne would convince Tensei to flee with her and the P5''s agents would spirit them away. Convincing Tensei was easy, he was already unhappy with the treatment that he was receiving from the rest of the family, excepting Gustav, but eluding the pursuers sent after them was a different matter. Julianne was killed in a botched attempt by the Legion at getting Tensei back before they could reach P5 territory. With no parents, the P5 arranged for him to be taken into the household of Archmage Naiberg where he stayed in more or less peaceful circumstances. Gustav occasionally tried reaching out to Tensei and getting him to return to the von Amstergs, if only for the sake of his inheritance and keeping the P5 out of Legion territory, but Tensei has refused all such offers. He stayed with the Naibergs until he was of age to enroll in the Academy. And so we come to the first of the Heroines, Sera Naiberg, or as I call her, Magic Police Girl. The Making of A Friend So, Magic Police Girl AKA Sera Naiberg. I had met her before at the warehouse of course and at that time I was surprised by the strength of her spiritual core. The significance of that observation had escaped me at that time, but it was a bright flashing billboard advertising her status as one of the heroines of this world. It also explained why she was hanging around the Hero the night I was beating up those gangers. Alright, enough sidetracking. Back to the story. When Tensei lost his mother during the escape from Legion territory, the UN P5 was put in a bind. Tensei was a minor and obviously needed a guardian. Nevertheless, the future prince (Vice prince, deputy prince? However you want to call it.) of half of Legion controlled Europe could not be fostered by any old family on the adoption register. Tensei''s difficult position in House von Amsterg also made the more politically connected families in the P5 leery of fostering him. Such an adoption would effectively be interference in the succession of House von Amsterg, a conflict many were not interested of getting involved in. Enter Archmage Naiberg. The Archmage was a highly respected figure in the P5, being one of the major researchers responsible for developing a magical theory that was generally compatible with humanity. Gone were the days when a human had to roll the dice whenever they wanted to use magic. Get an even number, cast fireball. Get an odd number however, and your soul would be devoured by some cosmic horror. It made learning magic a very dangerous proposition for early human practitioners, and that was why the trailblazers, like Naiberg, were eventually elevated to high status. Naiberg for instance, is the honorary, though largely absent, adviser of the Board of Governors for Unity College as well as an "elephant", a researcher doing work of strategic importance. Archmage Naiberg''s research took the risk out of the entire process of casting magic. Using his magical theory, humans could draw from what were effectively three sources of magic, the traditions of both the Host and Legion as well as the growing library of human specific spellcraft that was in development. The cost for that, and there is always a cost as The Voice enjoys reminding me, was inefficiency in casting. Any human mage who follows Naiberg''s casting theory, meaning most human mages, would be able to freely cast from any of the three schools of magic. This gives human mages a powerful advantage over their angel and demon counterparts, who were limited to their own racial spell pool. However, humans would always pay more in spirituality for each spell of equivalent power they cast compared to their angel and demon counterparts. This drawback coupled with the fact that most human mages had leaner spiritual cores compared to angels and demons, was a constant problem that human mages had to grapple with. Researchers including Naiberg were burning midnight oil looking for a solution. Apparently this was a problem that affected me as well, since the casting theory The Voice provided me with was based off Naiberg''s original work. The Voice told me that it had added its own spin to the method though, increasing the intensity of the spells I cast at the expense of even greater inefficiency. The justification being that since I had an effectively infinite amount of spirituality thanks to the artificial core, I could afford to pay out of my ass for juiced up spells that would end fights more quickly. Archmage Naiberg did not have access to an artificial spirit core crafted by a god though. That made brute forcing a solution impossible. Naiberg instead chose to research further the development of spiritual cores in children, hoping to find a way to bulk up on the core before core growth stopped in adulthood. And he had the perfect test subject for his theories, the newly born Magic Police Girl. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. As a child, Magic Police Girl became a test subject in Naiberg''s experiments. Happily for her though, The Voice had seen value in her as an eventual Heroine. Thanks to its fiddling while she was in the womb, Magic Police Girl developed an immensely powerful spiritual core when subjected to her father''s treatments. Magic Police Girl became known as a prodigy and Naiberg was once more lauded for his work, his theories vindicated. However, The Voice saw little value in Naiberg''s research itself. Naiberg had indeed made several important discoveries on soul growth while working on Magic Police Girl. But, the bulk of the actual heavy lifting was done not by Naiberg, but by the genetic enhancements supplied by The Voice. Naiberg''s methods would only work on someone with the exact same enhancements, meaning that it would work on absolutely no one else. Disappointed, Naiberg nevertheless decided to continue pursing his research. As far as Magic Police Girl went, he encouraged her to study and develop her magic, but otherwise had not much interest in her as a father. Magic Police Girl diligently set her mind towards the goal of mastering magic as it was the only means of getting acknowledgement from the Archmage. She achieved great success, cementing the reputation of her family as a family of geniuses. This state of affairs continued for several years, until Naiberg heard about Tensei. As I had noticed earlier, Tensei has a really unusual spirit core. Two cores in a single structure constantly in conflict. Although the locals can''t see spirituality directly like I can, this irregularity was quickly discovered when Tensei was put through a battery of medical tests upon reaching P5 territory. Naiberg was intrigued and wanted to get his hands on Tensei as a test subject. The P5 shot the idea down immediately. Tensei was far more valuable as a political piece then a lab rat. Naiberg kept nagging about it though and the P5 eventually threw their collective hands up and laid down some ground rules with the Archmage. Access to Tensei was subject to Naiberg fostering him, the cost of which would be borne by the P5. Tensei''s education and other needs would generally be met by the P5, Naiberg was only to provide a place for him to stay and act as a suitably prestigious surrogate parent for the future prince. Naiberg in return would be allowed to perform non-invasive research on Tensei, with a guard always on hand to make sure the Archmage did not get too enthusiastic. Under these circumstances, Naiberg got really nowhere investigating Tensei''s unique soul and lost interest in him. Tensei did not mind though, as he had already found a friend, the future Magic Police Girl. Magic Police Girl originally did not have much interest in Tensei, seeing him as unusual but weak. However his good nature, determination and handsome looks quickly won her over. Magic Police Girl eventually saw herself as a kind of protector and mentor to Tensei, guiding him in his studies and helping out when he got into trouble. When Tensei came of age, he desired to leave the cold, impersonal house of the Archmage and talked things over with Magic Police Girl. By this time, she had already been scouted by the City''s Special Operations Police and was only hesitating because she feared leaving Tensei by himself. Tensei''s desire to leave fit well with her own plans and together they enrolled at the Academy with the blessing of the P5. So Magic Police Girl juggles her studies with her duties as a part time member of SOPO all the while keeping an eye out on Tensei. Such a packed schedule might be a problem for you and me, but its not a problem for a Heroine. Magic Police Girl has by this time settled into her role by Tensei''s side, keeping him safe and she hopes, perhaps stirring his romantic interest? But its not enough. The Voice abruptly loads a clip of security camera footage on the laptop, sweeping aside all the documents that I was still in the process reading. "A situation has arisen," The Voice rasps, "Your intervention is required." A Matter of Honor It was after school and I was heading to Rose''s class to see her off for the day when Ken marched up to me with an angry glare, blocking my way. I tense and reflexively prepare for a fight. If Ken is here about what happened that night, things are likely to end up very ugly. Ken snarls at me for a bit, but does not attack. After what seems like a few moments lost in his own thoughts, Ken nods to himself and finally addresses me, "You want to protect that girl, fine. That means that you and I have a problem." I raise my hand to protest. We do not need to have a problem here. But Ken just cuts me off with a dismissive wave, "Yes, Tensei. We have a problem. You are shielding an enemy of my family. Until you decide to stop, that problem is not going away. So are you going to stop?" No. I will never abandon my friends. I shake my head and look Ken straight in the eye. Ken nods, probably realizing from the start what my answer would be. He says, "Then we need to resolve our problem. Between us, as a matter of honor." "No, Ken." I refuse, "People have already gotten hurt over this. I am doing this to keep Celeste safe, not to cause more trouble for anyone." Ken sneers angrily, "What, you think you can hide behind that cop friend of yours forever? Or maybe you think that you can run to that new teacher and ask him to beat my people up for you? That''s not going to keep working Tensei, and you know it. You want to protect the girl, you settle things with me, man to man." I frown, Ken is not letting this go. Mr Greer thrashing his men last night has probably put Ken in a spot. He has to show dominance or lose prestige within his family. I nod and ask, "What do you intend then?" Ken takes a moment to steady himself before replying, "You and me, one on one. I won''t bring my family and you don''t call that cop or the teachers. You win and I leave that angel lover alone from now on. I win though, you stop her from hiding behind you. Win or lose, I will also consider the matter of my men''s injuries settled as far as you are concerned. Fair?" "Your men were hurt by Mr Greer, not me. Go find him if you are upset about it." I shoot back. "I have," Ken growls, "but that coward has not shown himself the whole day. When we find him though, there is going to be a reckoning." Well, Mr Greer is certainly in hot soup with Ken''s family. Although Mr Greer can take care of himself, offending the heir of the Matsui clan is not something to be done lightly. I wish him all the best in my heart. I turn my attention back to Ken saying, "So how are we going to settle this?" I don''t want to fight, but I have the strength to protect my friend. And what other use for strength is there? "Tonight. You know the Heath?" Ken asks. I nod. The Heath is a large park near the campus. Its a sprawling piece of land with its own pond, covering a several buildings worth of space. It also has almost no visitors at night. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Ken looks evenly at me, "8 o''clock tonight. At the gazebo in the center of the Heath. You and me. Man to man." "No!" Just as I am about to agree, a loud shout interrupts Ken. I turn and see Rose standing behind me accompanied by her personal maid. Rose''s face is flushed with anxiety and her pointed ears, the only proof of her demon heritage quiver with agitation as they peek out from under her shoulder length flame red hair. Ken shamelessly ogles the curves of Rose''s figure and her tan, radiant skin before asking, "Who the hell are you?" Rose walks to my side and links her arm through mine before pronouncing to Ken in her most imperious voice, "I am Rose von Amsterg, daughter of the House of von Amsterg. You dare threaten my brother mongrel?" Ken''s face shifts into a look of utter confusion as he stares at Rose before staring at me. He finally finds himself and sneers at Rose, "We are not in Europe girly. You''re on Matsui turf now. Mind your manners." Rose looks like she is about to argue back, but I quickly cut in and say, "I accept. See you later tonight." Ken graces both Rose and I with a vicious smile before stalking away. I quickly guide Rose to the exit of the building. But Rose suddenly grabs me by my the arm and asks in an angry whisper, "Why? Why are you doing so much for that girl?" I reply back, trying to placate her, "She is my friend Rose. When I first got here, Celeste was one of the few people who saw past my troubles and befriended me. This is the least that I can do." Rose stamps her foot in consternation, "No! You are always like this, sacrificing yourself for others! This level of care, this kind of concern, its not meant for someone outside of our family!" I pat Rose''s hand reassuringly and say, "Its fine Rose. I was not a member of your family, yet you treated me like a brother when I had no one right? Are you saying I should not help another in need?" Rose suddenly whirls about and slaps me hard in the face. As I am recovering from the blow, I see her storming out of the building with her maid in tow. What did I say wrong this time? .... "Wow. He''s dense." I comment as the recording of the security footage finishes playing on the laptop. "An unfortunate necessity." The Voice rumbles, "Dense objects possess a greater amount of gravity, allowing the Hero to pull allies and other useful contacts into his orbit. You were seeing that phenomenon in action just now." "What? Seriously?" I ask, "You are telling me that Delinquent, a man who wants to beat the living shit out of the Hero, was being pulled into the Hero''s orbit? It looks to me that the two of them were residing on completely different planets." "Merely part of the process. Same thing was happening with Heroine von Amsterg as well. There is a saying from your dimension I believe, beating is love?" The Voice replies. "Sure. Fair enough. I''m assuming you need me to beat up Delinquent before the Hero gets schooled?" I quip. "No. I want the fight between them to go ahead. I had set the Hero''s body to unlock its hidden potential once the Hero engages in enough combat. With the interference from Fate, I believe that the Hero needs to get stronger more quickly. Mr Matsui is powerful enough to press the Hero hard and despite all appearances, has no intention of hurting the Hero too badly. This is a golden opportunity that we cannot miss." The Voice explains. "So, what''s the problem?" I say. The Voice rasps, "The problem is that I have intercepted a coded transmission from the von Amsterg residence ordering a paramilitary unit under their employ to abduct the Hero tonight while he is at the Heath. I expect the paramilitaries to strike after the duel between the Hero and Mr Matsui has concluded, when the Hero too weak to resist. This will complicate my plans substantially. That is why I need you to intervene." "What? You are saying that a Heroine is plotting against the Hero?" I never thought something like this could happen. "Not directly. I believe Heroine von Amsterg vented her frustrations in private and this plot was hatched by an over zealous subordinate." The Voice muses. "Can things ever be straight forward around here?" I say plaintively. "If they were, I would not have needed to summon you Transmigrator." Officer of The Law The Voice closes the window that was playing the security camera footage and pulls up a map of The City before continuing, "Those coded orders have just been acknowledged by the paramilitary group. I have back traced that acknowledgement to a private hangar at the airport." The map scrolls to a district marked as Red Perch Cape and zooms in on the airport located there. The Voice scrolls past the the main terminal and stops at a series of hangars located behind a barbed wire fence. The Voice says, "Red Perch Airport is split into two main facilities, one for the public at large and the other for VIPs and other individuals who privately own their own planes. The paramilitaries are based within hangar 69 at the VIP wing of the airport." The laptop then displays aerial and what I assume to be satellite reconnaissance photos of the hangar in question. This data is supplemented by security camera footage probably stolen by The Voice from the site itself. Examining the photos and assembled footage, I see that the hangar has been turned into a small arsenal and living area housing not more than ten people. The pair of guards hanging around outside the hangar on duty strike me as familiar though. Men in suits, carrying swords. Just like at the warehouse. "Those guys," I ask The Voice, "are they part of the same group I tangled with at the warehouse earlier?" The Voice responds, "Yes. They refer to themselves as the Judecca Militia, named after some paramilitary unit active during the Iron Octopus Crisis. After you had escaped from the warehouse, the police started arresting all the guards they could get their hands on. The guards that managed to escape regrouped at this hangar owned by an offshore company." I grunt in acknowledgement. The Hero''s family originally arrived on earth during that Iron Octopus thing didn''t they? Does this mean that the Hero''s extended family are going to be the antagonists? Lets examine the immediate problem first though. "Why did those guys gather at the hangar then? What''s so special about that place?" I ask The Voice. "As Red Perch Airport possesses its own international zone, City police by treaty cannot access the area beyond customs at either of these facilities. This includes the hangar area." The Voice rumbles, "This makes the private hangars an ideal spot for an armed group to camp out, waiting for the heat to die down. It also makes them an ideal target for a strike. Attack the hangar and wipe them out." I take a look at the surveillance footage again as well as the photos of the airport, assessing the situation. No way. The Voice is being far too cavalier about this. I shake my head, "Not possible. Not only is the hangar itself guarded by those Judecca guys, it is situated behind the airport''s own security. I would need to either punch through the airport security or sneak past them before getting into spitting range of the hangar. After I take out the militia, airport security and the police would be right on top of me in either case. I don''t fancy my chances. Not when there is an easier way." The Voice rumbles with curiosity, "Indeed? Do tell Transmigrator." I use the mouse to shift the map back to the Dreaming Spires District and stop at the location marked as the Heath. "We already know that the militia is going to crash the Hero''s duel of honor. I will deploy at the Heath and jump the militia as they are heading in. Simple." I say. The Voice rasps disapprovingly, "If only. After the duel, the Hero and Mr Matsui will take the opportunity to bond. As this is vital to the process of cultivating Mr Matsui as an ally of the Hero, I do not want both of them to be disturbed before the event is complete. Ambushing the militia at the Heath is guaranteed to draw their attention and disrupt the bonding event. As we do not know if another such opportunity will arise again, we cannot take such a risk."Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. You certainly have high standards Voice, I think to myself while frowning in consternation. Still, I am not yet out of ideas. "Show me the route from the airport to the Heath." I instruct The Voice. The Voice obliges as the relevant roads between the two locations are highlighted in red. So, multiple possible routes, but all of them require the militia to drive along a particular stretch of highway. A plan forms in my mind, but it would depend on whether The Voice can supply me with the needed kit. "Can you track the progress of the militia once they begin their journey to the Heath?" I query The Voice while clicking idly on that stretch of highway. "Of course." The Voice''s responds patronizingly. I pull up the laptop''s search engine and enter the description of the kit I need asking, "Can you spawn me that, in the time available to us?" The Voice considers for a moment before laughing, "I see. Most certainly. I am bringing the cab to pick you up now. Let us get you outfitted right away." .... The cab drops me off at an abandoned store on one of the side streets in the Dreaming Spires District. The store looks like it had been left abandoned for some time with its papered up windows and the fine layer of dust coating the doorknob of the entrance. I hear the telltale click of the door unlocking and step inside without delay. "Another one of your places of power?" I ask The Voice. The Voice replies, "Yes. I maintain several throughout The City. I have spawned the equipment you have requested within. Have a look." I cover my mouth and nose as my footsteps stir up the dust on the floor as I smile to myself. At the center of the bare room sits a large bike painted in the colors and insignia of the Ordinary Police. And lying neatly by the bike''s front wheel is the other bit of kit that I had requested. The uniform and gear of an ORPO highway patrolman. I take a moment to inspect the bike and ask, "So with this I would be indistinguishable from an actual cop?" My hand strokes the smooth curves of the machine appreciatively. The Voice says, "Yes. All this equipment is no different from the real thing. Never mind the militia, an actual ORPO officer would not be able to tell the difference." I nod and begin donning the white ORPO uniform laid out on the floor. I then proceed snap on the stab vest and wear the high visibility police jacket over it. White gloves go over my hands. I finish by switching my shoes for the hard leather boots that go with the uniform. I can''t check my appearance, but everything feels like a perfect fit. Next, I begin loading the equipment belt with the other gear that The Voice had prepared for me. Handcuffs, radio, retractable baton traced with odd engravings and a Shockmaster brand stun gun. No actual firearms. How odd. "Why no actual guns?" I ask The Voice as I load the two shot stun gun with prongs and fiddle with the integrated laser pointer. If ORPO can afford such a fancy stun gun, surely they can provide actual firearms to their officers. "Politics." The Voice explains, "There have been worries regarding ORPO''s professionalism and all lethal weapons have been taken away from their arsenal. At any rate, guns are not particularly effective against the spiritually trained. Bullets do not carry enough magic to quickly break defensive spells." "So guns are useless then?" I ask. Figures given the setting of this world. "No. Guns can kill as long as you shoot someone enough times with it. You just can kill someone a lot faster with a magic sword than with a gun." The Voice explains. "And this baton? Its magical?" I ask, examining the tracing that had been carved into the baton. The Voice affirms, "Yes. An enchantment that helps to stun your opponents. The baton also carries its own magical power source in its shaft that activates the enchantment on impact. So do not go around slapping the baton in the palm of your hand. It would be most embarrassing." I retract the baton and holster it in the belt. "Why is it set up that way though? Sounds dangerous to the user." "Most ORPO officers are mundane humans. They do not have the spirituality to activate magical weapons. The standard issue baton was designed in a way to allow a complete mundane to use it effectively." The Voice rasps. "How much time do we have left before the militia begins their journey from the airport?" I query. The Voice rumbles, "Around an hour. I have considered the plan you presented to me during the cab ride. I have no objections to it. However I wish to spend the remaining time left refining the plan with you. Now start from the top." Highwayman I run through the plan one more time with The Voice. Using the ORPO uniform and bike, I will linger around the stretch of highway between the airport and the Heath. The Voice will be tracking the militia as they make their way towards the Heath. Once they make it to the highway, I will move to intercept them. Using my appearance as an ORPO officer, I will flag down the militia and get them to disembark from their vehicles. Once that''s done, I will look for an excuse to radio police HQ for assistance and to pick up the militia as suspects involved in the warehouse incident. The Voice will provide me with a bogus ORPO ID to make the call and will prioritize my request in ORPO''s system, ensuring the militia''s presence is logged and known. Under these circumstances, the militia will be in no position to conduct the kidnapping of the Hero. The Voice interrupts with a question, "What if the militia refuses to comply with your order to pull over?" "Then I will follow their vehicles with the bike''s siren blaring at full. A call would be made to ORPO HQ that suspicious individuals have refused to comply with the police. With that kind of heat on the militia, the end result would be the same, the kidnapping would no longer be possible." I explain. The Voice continues to question, "What happens if the militia pulls over, but decides to attack you to prevent your interference in their mission? Bear in mind that it is certain that you will be outnumbered even though you have chosen not to attack their base of operations." I had already thought about that happening so I elaborate, "All this will take place on the highway in full view of the public and I am disguised as a cop. I doubt the militia will immediately resort to force against me. If they do, I will attempt to wound them to the point where they can no longer perform their mission and retreat. If that is not possible, I will immediately retreat and call ORPO HQ for help while tailing the militia on the bike. The ruckus will make their mission impossible." The Voice grunts with satisfaction, "I approve of this plan with one amendment. The bike will be controlled by me. That will make it easier for you to conduct the interception and harassment of the militia as well as to perform your retreat. All you need to do is mime riding it." Great. The Voice could probably control the bike far better than I could ride it. Looks like the whole plan has come together. I pick up and don the bike helmet, closing the mirrored visor to prevent anyone from seeing my face. I give my gear a once over before wheeling the bike out into the street. With a swing of my leg, I mount the bike as its engine fires up. I grip the bike''s handles securely and it rockets towards the highway. .... Once more I pass under the shadow of Ascension Tower, the massive structure looming over the evening skyline. I did not have a watch with me, but I am guessing that the Hero must be on his way to the Heath right now. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. Its almost show time. The bike takes an abrupt turn and cruises along a road that merges with the highway. Once it hits the highway, the bike''s engine roars like a lion as it begins to speed up. We are no longer going about in circles. The Voice must have detected that the militia have reached the highway. The Voice rumbles, confirming my suspicion, "Up ahead. Do you see the black SUV? That is the target vehicle." I breathe a sigh of relief. Just one vehicle worth of trouble then? I should be able to handle that with the powers The Voice provided me with. The Voice guns the bike''s engine and cuts straight towards the SUV in the distance. The bike''s siren starts to blare over the noise of the traffic. The other motorists sharing the highway instinctively slow down when they see the bike''s flashing cop lights, allowing me an easier time at reaching the target. I signal the artificial core to activate as The Voice pulls the bike up alongside the SUV. I rap on the driver''s side window and signal for it to stop by the hard shoulder. The driver nods and drifts his vehicle to the side of the highway before stopping. I dismount from the bike and The Voice shuts off the siren. The driver of the SUV winds down his window as he sees me approaching. Goat man in a suit. Definitely part of that warehouse crew. "What''s the problem officer?" Goat Man asks in a neutral tone. I see that there is another guy sitting on the passenger side of the SUV, plus who knows how many have been crammed into the rear area. The SUV is alight with the glow from their combined spiritual nimbus. "License please." I ask in as professional a tone that I can manage. Can''t let them get see through the disguise. Goat Man fishes out his license from a wallet and hands it to me. I make a show of checking it before using radioing in the code that The Voice told me beforehand. This would inform the ORPO dispatcher to send officers to assist and to pick up possible suspects. However, I notice that Goat Man''s eyes narrow when he sees me using the radio as he and the guy sitting beside him share a significant look.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. "Sir, please step out of the vehicle." I instruct Goat Man. "Sure officer." Goat Man says with a smile and steps out of the SUV, walking towards me. The guy beside him also exits the vehicle and I sense him moving around to my rear as Goat Man''s smiling visage takes up the whole of my view. I immediately shift my position so that I am facing both of them. "Sir, please tell your friend to stay where he is." I say. Goat Man just smiles even wider as both he and the other guy continue closing in on me. I hear the sound of the rear passenger door on my side open. So that''s how its going to be huh? Goat Man''s partner moves first, charging towards me in an attempt to shove me into the rear of the vehicle. He''s fast, but there''s no way he could have taken me by surprise. Not when I can see his spirituality flare just before he moves into action. My right leg snaps up, driving straight into his gut, bowling the demon backwards. Goat Man''s spirituality flares as well and his fist flies straight to my chest. I do not bother blocking the attack, letting the stab vest and my powers weather it. I barely feel anything as the punch connects with a muffled thump while I extend my arms and grab Goat Man by the face. With one smooth motion I slam Goat Man''s head right into the chassis of the SUV. There is a satisfying crack as the SUV''s body deforms at the impact spot with a fresh paint of blood layered over it. I spin around to confront the goon squad unloading from the rear of the vehicle. Three on my side, three on the other. I click my tongue in annoyance. At least two of the gang were down for the count. I draw the stun gun and shoot the first guy disembarking from the SUV on my side. Th prongs sink into his thigh and as the electric buzz from the stun gun fills the air, the demon''s leg begins jerking and gives way, causing him and his other two buddies to tumble back into the car like dominoes. I take the opportunity to draw the baton and advance on the groaning lot. Grabbing the stunned guy by the suit, I pull him out of the SUV and belt him hard across the face with my weapon. Teeth and blood fly from the impact. The body crumples to the ground insensate. Another goon out of the fight. Probably. Then I am distracted by several impacts against my torso. I look down and see one of the goons that had fallen back into the SUV repeatedly delivering frenzied kicks into my stomach from a prone position. When another kick lands, I grab the goon''s leg and drag him bodily out of the SUV. The look on the goon''s face morphs into one of sheer terror as he sees me lifting the baton high before slamming it against his shin. I feel the bone break and the goon gives an ear splitting scream before settling down to incoherent sobbing. Fourth one down. My senses prick up. The guys that had exited the SUV from the other side were now behind me. Another three of them. I turn to face them, slowly twirling the bloodstained baton. But these three don''t come charging at me. They arrange themselves in a neat row and draw their swords in unison. So the gloves are coming off then? The trio''s spirituality begins to merge as they raise their swords as one. Not merely merging, but multiplying, amplifying the potency of the combined spiritual field. The pressure around me suddenly builds as their combined nimbus glows white hot. My eyes widen in alarm as the massive nimbus flares in preparation of an attack. I throw myself to the ground just in time as the trio swing their swords in my direction. A bolt of pure energy blazes over me, missing me by a whisker. My eyes track the bolt of energy as it smashes straight into a passing car, blasting the car into two halves. The traffic which had slowed to watch the fight is now driven into blind panic. The entire crowd of vehicles blindly lurches forward in an attempt to get away from the scene, like a pack of stampeding animals. I hear the metallic crunches of collisions occur around me along with the agonized bleating of the pack who impotently blare their horns in confusion. Picking myself back up, I see the final domino guy emerge from the SUV, lunging at me with a drawn sword. With no time to dodge, I grab the blade of the sword and twist hard. The core''s output surges to resist the damage and it feels like molten fire is being poured down my arm and into the hand. The blade snaps satisfyingly and my attacker is thrown of balance. My instincts take over and my attacker is shanked in the gut with the broken blade. My other arm whips out in an arc and the baton smacks the guy''s head, sending him flying off his feet. Five down. By the time I am done with domino guy though, the trio are already halfway through prepping for another one of their combined attacks. As the combined nimbus flares once more, I duck behind the SUV to break the trio''s line of sight on me. I enter a crouch, making my profile as small as possible. And the SUV is sent rocketing off the ground, all the while being torn apart by the force of the trio''s attack. Nearly half the SUV bowls into my crouched form, sending me flying along with it into the panicked herd. The SUV wreckage slams me against another car, and I am left sandwiched between the two metal hulks. The heat in my chest grows and my entire body vibrates, as if it was trying to shake itself apart. And with the heat comes the feeling of exhilaration, of euphoria. The familiar feeling of wanting to be unleashed. The core. I am drawing too much power. I have to slow down. I begin to struggle in order to free myself from the wreck. The heat grows in sympathy as my muscles strain. The buzzing in my head returns. Light begins to blossom behind my eyes. With a thunderous blow, I send the lid of my metal tomb flying off. But the light blinds me. I don''t see my enemies. I don''t see the anything at all. Just the light. The Miracle Do you believe in miracles? I did not, at first. It may be a strange thing to say, with the obvious existence of angels and demons all around us these days, but that was part of the reason for my disbelief. Angels and demons could do magic. Humans can learn how to do magic. Therefore nothing about what angels and demons do could be considered miraculous. A real miracle is the equivalent of achieving the impossible. Not merely a skillful display of magic. A miracle is an act worthy of a god. Magic has a way of deceiving the ignorant. It makes the eminently possible seem impossible. Oversells the capability of its wielder. That is why so many had fallen for the spectacle put on by the Host and Legion. The promise of power that seemed beyond the grasp of humanity. One of those people taken in by the fanfare was father. Father was one of the first human mages fighting during the early stages of the Millennium War. From what I was taught, the fighting during those days was incredibly one sided, and for father the experience was no different. Humanity''s lines broke and the army father was with retreated to what is today known as Neo-Cardiff. The Host caught up to the defeated army without problem and simply demanded that humanity submit and surrender the city to them. The human leadership had been completely cowed by the heavy military defeats and quickly complied. The Host entered the city with the promise that as long as humans accepted their role as the angels'' flock, the Host as good shepherds would work to uplift them. The war had proven that the Host possessed powers beyond human ability. The power of miracles. And the Host promised that they would share that power with us. The human mages like father were the first to be co-opted by the Host. Already impressed by the Host during the war, the prospect of developing their magic further with the help of actual angels was an opportunity that not many could resist. Father told me that being defeated by the Host was a blessing from heaven. It opened his eyes and allowed him to receive the miracles that the Host had bestowed upon him. The miracle of power as father''s strength grew under Host tutelage, and the miracle of wealth as father became an influential man in the new era. As a boy, I admired father''s strength in both business and magic. Father was the best proof that miracles could happen. A mere soldier turning into one of the world''s most influential men. Father probably believed the same thing. Thinking back, it was perhaps for this reason he kept insisting that I learn magic. Father was hoping for another miracle. But as I grew up, I fell out of love with the concept of miracles. What father had accomplished was difficult, but not impossible. Many people became wealthy and influential after the war. Humanity began developing its own style of magic as well. None of that could compare with the impossibility that father and sister had posed to me. To do something that was, for me, literally impossible. To cast magic. And before the miracle father wanted could occur, I plunged into the cold, dark sea. No matter how I reflect on the events of that night, there was no question about it. I had drowned when the taxi plunged into the ocean. At the last moment, the Black Stallion appeared before me once more, and bore me away to a place where I could dream once again. In that place between the waking world and endless eternity, the Stallion told me that the great evil had made an attempt on my life. Only by once more joining the Stallion in its quest could I save myself. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. And for my labor, the Stallion would perform the impossible. The stallion would grant me the magic that I had vainly sought for years. I would be granted a miracle. .... I squint as the light dies down and survey the carnage before me. Cars that have been turned into wreckage. Men lying on the ground bleeding. The Stallion waiting patiently by the side of the road. I came here to do something, didn''t I? To stop something from happening. Three demons face me, carrying swords in their hands, performing an arcane ritual. I desperately rack my brain for any kind of answer to what is going on. Kidnappers. I had come to stop these men from committing a crime. They were the servants of the great evil. They were my enemy. I focus on my enemies and recognize the spell they are casting, the long hours of forced study paying off. A battle ritual meant to generate a single overpowering blast of energy. Vulnerable to disruption based on my lessons from father. Pay attention boy. The first miracle shown to the prophet, the first miracle granted to me and now the first of many to be taught to you. Burning Bush. The first "miracle" that father showed to me. I was so impressed then. Now it seems so insignificant to what a true miracle is. I move my spirituality in the manner described by father. It comes easily, as if I had been able to do this for my whole life. But I know that it is only because of the Stallion that this is possible. With a wave of my hand, I send the spell flying out at one of the trio. My target''s clothes erupt into flame and he stumbles backwards desperately trying to beat down the fire. It does him no good though. Burning Bush may just be a minor combat spell, but with the power of the Stallion behind it, the flames possess a voracious appetite and consume the unfortunate kidnapper utterly. With the formation disrupted, the ritual fails and the remaining two kidnappers reel from the magical backlash. With a shout, both of them charge towards me with their swords raised. Instead of actually seeing my attackers, my mind zones out and once again drifts back to father''s lessons. What is wrong with you boy? A simple protective ward. Can''t you even manage that? Anger flashes in my heart. Yes father. I can manage that. After all, you forced me to learn the casting sequence for hours. Exorcism - Rebuke. My power surges outwards and washes over my charging opponents. Both of them howl in pain as lesions and hives form across their skin. I press my spirituality down on my opponents, holding both of them in place as they slowly sink to their knees. Boy! You will master my personal technique or I will disown you! Do you hear me? I stride forward with fire burning in my eyes. I jab both my index fingers into the chests of my attackers and cast the spell father had given me so much grief over. Finger Of The Mountain. The power surges through my fingers into the bodies of my opponents, and in a great wave of pressure, pulps their innards completely. Blood starts to flow from their mouths as they collapse to the ground in literal boneless heaps. I then hear a wail coming from somewhere in front of me and look up. One of the kidnappers, with a boot print stamped on his suit immediately drops to his knees with his hands up, pleading for mercy. I scowl and start moving towards him when - Never mind boy. Just ... go have your dinner. Its getting cold. - the fight goes out of me. Forget it. This fellow is in no shape to kidnap anyone right now anyway. I tiredly dismiss the would be kidnapper with a wave of my hand and he scarpers without any further ceremony. I turn towards the Stallion who has been waiting patiently all this while. Cynical and selfish. That would be the best way to describe it. The last being I would have expected to be doling out miracles. Yet it did not change the fact that the quest that I was on was a worthy one. It did not change the fact that for the first time in my life, I was someone that actually mattered. I was relevant. I smoothly mounted the stallion and it galloped towards the setting sun. The Aftermath " - so all in all, a satisfactory conclusion." The Voice rasps. Huh? What''s that you were talking about just now? I blink my eyes a few times to clear away the cobwebs in my head and realize that I am sitting on the bike as The Voice ferries me back to the abandoned store. Strange, the last thing I remember was being turned into sandwich filling by two cars. Can''t remember anything that happened in between then and now. Did I just lose time? The next thing I feel is that my entire body hurts and the pain is far greater than what I experienced after the fight with the gangsters. Cold sweat is soaking through the ORPO uniform and my body involuntarily quivers in discomfort. There is a harsh metallic taste in my mouth. Blood. Was I spitting out blood just now? I try to address The Voice but instead a groan of distress escapes from my mouth. The Voice notices this and says, "Do not try to speak if you cannot. Your body has suffered substantial damage from the battle. Not only were you smashed between two vehicles, towards the end of the fight, you cast several spells in a row far beyond their prescribed power levels. The core handled the drain easily, but the stress inflicted on Mr Gallant''s body is another matter." Spells? The only spell I know is the one Eagle Claw used in his attempt to run me through, and that is only because I was watching how his spirituality shifted while he was casting it. Something is wrong. The Voice continues, "Still, you surprise me Transmigrator. I never had expected you to grasp the use of magic so quickly. To be able to cast battle magic on the fly without prior study, impressive indeed." Something is seriously wrong. The Voice rambles on, oblivious to my inner turmoil, "You managed to cast as if you had been studying magecraft your whole life. Is this the natural development of what you call a "cheat ability"? A talent that only an outsider to this world possesses? No wonder summoning outsiders to deal with problems big and small has become in vogue among my acquaintances." I finally manage to gasp out, "I don''t know what you are talking about." The Voice stops talking, waiting for me to continue. "Outside of physical enhancement and that spell I learned from the warehouse guard who tried to kill me, I don''t know anything about magic." I manage to say through the discomfort. The Voice pauses for a moment before responding, "Your knowledge of physical enhancement magecraft is part of the power set I provided you with. Tell me, do you consciously cast whenever you want to use that set of spells?" "No?" I reply, "I just become stronger whenever I feel the need to become stronger. I''m not actually casting anything." "Precisely. The knowledge I provided you with has been welded to your instincts. You do not know how you do it, much in the same way a bird does not how it flies. It just does. What happened at the end of the fight was different Transmigrator. You were deliberately, consciously casting magic. Magic that no one had ever taught you." The Voice rasps. My throat goes dry as I hesitantly mutter, "I kind of spaced out at the end of the battle there. I only came to just now when you started talking to me." The Voice remains silent as the bike covers the final stretch of road before arriving at the abandoned store. The bike''s engine cuts off, plunging the surroundings into silence. By now, darkness has fallen on The City. Too late for most of the stores and offices to stay open and too early for the clubs and bars to hit full swing. That leaves me alone in the side street with only The Voice for company. The Voice finally speaks after several moments worth of consideration, "Your ... malady, for the lack of a better term, needs to be investigated urgently. I have spawned a mattress in the abandoned store. You will stay here tonight while I repair your body and perform an in depth examination. Please roll the bike in as you enter." "What happened with the Hero?" I ask while dismounting from the bike. The Voice rumbles gently, "All went according to plan Transmigrator. A job well done." .... Ken groans as I apply the gauze over his wounds. Look at both of us right now. We completely messed each other up. Good thing I keep a first aid kit in my room at the dorms. I start dabbing antiseptic over another set of lacerations on Ken''s face and he hisses in pain. Looks like he is finally coming to. The fresh air seems to be doing some good. Letting Ken rest outside near the dorm''s entrance was the right choice. "There, all done." I finish treating the last of Ken''s wounds and survey my work with satisfaction. I managed to stop the bleeding, but Ken had better get to a doctor for a check up. I did hit him pretty hard with that last blow. Now I can start treating my own wounds. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Heya, Tensei! Guess who''s back?" a bright, cheerful voice interrupts my work which quickly transitions into a shocked, "Oh my god! What happened?" The shouting rouses Ken from his knocked out stupor and he blearily opens his eyes. "Whuh? An angel? A pretty angel ..." is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, his voice trailing off as he struggles to make sense of what is going on around him. From fighting a duel of honor to ogling girls. Never change Ken. I smile at the newcomer and say, "Hi Kirarin. Are you going to be back for long this time?" A girl my age with her platinum blonde hair done up in twin tails pouts at me and plays idly with a lock of hair. Her green eyes have an expression of worry and concern as the halo of sparkles around her flit about in distress. Her tall, slender frame bends over both Ken and I as she scrutinizes my injuries. "Its Kira, Tensei. Stop calling me by that stupid stage name. And look at yourself! You''re hurt, you need medical help!" Kira exclaims. Ken''s voice drifts out again proclaiming, "Flat is justice..." "Scratch that, both of you need help." Kira sighs in exasperation, "Wait here. My van should still be around. I will get the driver to send you two to a clinic." I nod in thanks to Kira as she goes off back in the direction of the girls dorm. .... Kira brings the executive van over and helps me load Ken into it. She then tells the driver to take us to a nearby doctor to have our wounds looked at. Under the doctor''s healing magic, both Ken''s and my wounds were quickly healed, apparently they just looked a lot worse than they really were. So now Ken and I were just lounging about in one of the treatment rooms, waiting for the healing process to complete. We were meant to spend the time resting. Except that I had my hands full trying to placate a furious Kira who was glaring angrily at me. No rest for me it seems. "So let me get this straight," Kira says her hands placed on her hips, "The two of you were fighting over a girl..." "Not a girl! Not a girl!" I quickly cut in. Why is Kira getting the wrong idea here? "A matter of honor." Ken clarifies, having regained his senses sometime back. Kira raises an eyebrow, her tone absolutely frosty, "Oh. A matter of a maiden''s honor? Was she flat, pervert?" Ken deflates like a balloon and looks away embarrassed. Come to think about it, Celeste is pretty flat. Not as flat as Kira though. I would never ever say such a thing to either of them of course. I intend to keep living. "No, just listen to me," I plead, "You heard how Celeste has been going around with that petition of hers? Well things got sort of out of hand." That gets Kira''s attention and I manage to give her the whole story. Ken just sits quietly by the side, occasionally grunting his acknowledgement of what I am saying. When I finish the entire story, Ken finally interjects saying, "Right. So that''s that then. You can tell your friend that I won''t be seeking trouble with her from now on." I heave a sigh of relief. Its over at last, but what about Mr Greer? Is Ken still going to go after him? Ken continues, "You know, I thought you were just all talk. But you were really serious about that "protecting your friends" jazz huh? That last blow you gave me, how did you suddenly get so strong?" I shake my head. Truth be told, I have no idea how I won the duel. Ken was handily smacking me about throughout most of it. It was as if during the fight, I broke through some kind of bottleneck and that allowed me to turn the tables on him. Chalk it up as one of the mysteries surrounding my spirit core. Growing it was never the problem, its just that I cannot get it to focus properly. My master at Uncle''s place tried all kinds of training methods on me, but none of them worked. Sera also tried her hand at training me once I moved in with her family, but again there was not much result. Not that all the training was useless though. It has really polished my fighting technique making me one of the better athletes in my age group, weird spirit core notwithstanding. Its also what allowed me to fend off Ken for so long despite the difference in our spirit power. However, I could only count on luck to improve my spirit core. It would simply grow stronger out of the blue without any warning. Well, no sense in looking a gift horse in the mouth. "What about Mr Greer?" I ask Ken. Ken huffs angrily, "Him? I''ll be settling scores with him soon enough. That new teacher can''t hide forever." "Can you just let it go?" I implore, "Enough people have gotten hurt already over this." Ken sighs, "Well, you didn''t abandon me in the Heath after knocking me out and treated my wounds. I wish I could say that all the members of my family would do the same thing for me. Fine. As long as that teacher kneels and shows the proper respect, I will forget the whole thing happened." Relief floods my body. This is certainly the best outcome that could be achieved. I''ve managed to protect everyone. Kira stares at me with a sad smile murmuring, "You really mean it do you? That you will protect your friends?" Of course I mean it. My friends mean everything to me. "That''s how we met, all those years ago." Kira says with a far away look in her eyes, "Is it possible to leave behind the past?" I look at Kira oddly and ask, "What are you talking about?" Kira shakes her head and replies, "Oh, its nothing. Anyway, Tensei, I''ll be staying for a while this time. My management company has a new owner and they have arranged for a series of concerts in The City. Also, I want to continue studying music under Mr Trietel. That man is a genius, did you know he is one of the few that can weave magic into a song?" Ken suddenly pipes up from his side of the room, "Hey, aren''t you that idol singer Kirarin?" Kira graces Ken with a smile and nods saying, "Would you like a ticket to the upcoming concert?" She then turns to me, "Tensei, you are invited too of course." "Sure. Sounds great." I reply happily. Kira claps her hands while leaving the room saying, "Well, that''s settled. And it looks like its also time for you two to leave the clinic as well. I''ll go call the van to take us back." Ken quickly demurs, "Nah, that''s fine. I can call a car to pick me up. You two go ahead." He then clasps my hand and shakes it hard, whispering to me, "Get me her autograph, ''kay?" I stare at him completely speechless. Is Ken an idol fan? "Please don''t tell anyone." he mumbles with a red face. Being In Control By the time I awoke the next day, it was already close to noon. The Voice had really taken its time giving me a checkup. Changing out of the sweaty ORPO uniform, I switch back to the office wear that I had been originally wearing. Stretching my body experimentally, I find that there is no pain and nothing is out of order. So far so good. Except none of that meant anything if my problem was mental. I hear The Voice''s signature rasp in my ear, "The taxi is almost here. Get ready." I leave the abandoned store and wait by the side of the street for the black cab to arrive. With my heart in my throat I ask, "So what is the diagnosis? Am I going crazy?" The Voice hesitates for a moment before replying, "As far as I can tell no. Before I continue my diagnosis however, just be aware that all this is new territory for me as well. Do not take what comes next as fact but rather conjecture on my part." Well, that''s certainly not ominous. The Voice continues its explanation, "I did not detect anything out of order with Mr Gallant''s body. Nor was there anything wrong with you mentally. What I did find was a fragment of Mr Gallant''s soul wedged within yours." Oh shit. The time when I was at the Crossroads. I scooped up some bits of Gallant''s soul while he was dying. Was that the cause of the black out? "Mr Gallant was very close to death when I performed the summoning. If he had died part way through, your soul would have been torn apart as the summoning conduit collapsed. I suspect that you had instinctively seized a fragment of Mr Gallant''s dying soul to prevent it from dissipating and tried using it to stabilize the conduit." The Voice rumbles. Not instinct. But a lame attempt at saving my Host''s life. I am starting to understand why people say what they say about good intentions. The cab arrives and I climb in while remarking, "Well, if that''s the problem, can''t you just, you know, take the soul fragment out of me and return it to Gallant?" The Voice replies somewhat wearily, "No. I had spent the better part of last night examining your soul and have concluded that Mr Gallant''s soul fragment has become fused with your own soul, much like how the artificial core carries a soul fragment of yours. The fusion must have happened during the summoning when you were carrying the Mr Gallant''s fragment. Which brings us to the real question, the cause of your black out." That''s right, I was still carrying the embers of Gallant''s soul when I heard The Voice performing the summoning. I was summoned literally with a piece of Gallant''s soul on me. Should I have just dumped those embers before being stuffed into Gallant''s meat body? I massage my glabella and lean back in the seat of the cab. If I am going to be hit with the bad news arising from the consequences of my actions the first thing in the late morning, I might as well get comfortable. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The Voice continues, "I suspect, and this is only a guess on my part, that Mr Gallant has been signalling you in the same way that you have been signalling the artificial core. You do not "hear" Mr Gallant''s signals most of the time because your soul is dominant. However, when your control weakens, such as when you are suffering from sensory overload when using the core, Mr Gallant is able to slip in his instructions to you." That''s not good. Am I eventually going to be consumed by my host? Or are our personalities going to merge into a new one? I shudder with fear thinking about the possibilities. I like how I am right now. I don''t want to change that. "As I cannot communicate directly with native souls, I have no way of proving this conjecture one way or the other," The Voice muses, "but the evidence fits. Mr Gallant in his youth was schooled extensively in magic despite having no talent for it. You most probably drew the knowledge of casting from him." Well at least Gallant was helping me out back there. But losing control like that, I would rather it not happen. I may be feeling guilty over the hand Gallant had drawn, but not guilty enough to sacrifice myself over it. "Got any advise for me then? Absolutely anything that can help?" I ask. The Voice considers for a moment and says, "Just what I had told you before. Stay in control when using the core. Do not let yourself get overwhelmed by the sensation. This is absolutely vital if you want to remain the dominant soul residing in that body. Also, do not give in to the temptation to draw on any of the knowledge or skills Mr Gallant may possess. Doing so may make you more susceptible to his influence in the future. It is better to just not take the risk." I wet my lips before asking the question that had been bugging me for a while, "Will this have an effect on my return home?" My heart sinks when I hear The Voice''s answer, "Unfortunately yes. While bearing Mr Gallant''s soul fragment will not stop you from leaving this world as long as Fate has been dealt with, there is a chance that the Administrator of your world will take exception to you smuggling in what is essentially an alien into your home dimension. You may very well be terminated outright." I rub my temples and let out a groan. It just keeps getting better and better, doesn''t it? "Can''t you do anything to remove the soul fragment?" I ask The Voice once more. The Voice rasps, "I will keep researching this matter, but it will take time and I have no guarantee when I can provide a satisfactory answer. The best I can do at the present is to cut off access to the core if it looks like you are losing control. I will not be able to suppress Mr Gallant as there is already a direct link between him and you, so whether or not you remain on top will largely depend on yourself. If there was another synchronicity event things would be different, but there is little point in pinning your hopes on something so rare." "What if there was though? Another synchronicity event I mean. Would you be able to remove the fragment then?" I ask, grasping at straws. "Yes. However such events are, as I have said, exceedingly rare. If that is your plan, I suggest you learn to get comfortable in this world. You will be waiting for a while." The Voice says. I tune out what The Voice says next and look out of the window, admiring the scenery as the cab makes its way back to the Academy. The outlook''s not particularly good, but at least I found out about this problem early. I am in no immediate danger and I''ve avoided the possibility of being ganked by my world''s Administrator on the journey back home. And even though The Voice insists that synchronicity events are rare, it was only a matter of time before another one occurred. That meant that even if The Voice could not work out a way to get rid of the soul fragment within me, as long as I kept my marbles, the problem would eventually resolve itself. Patience. Patience was the key. And as The Voice said, staying in control. Private Session "You wanted to see me?" asks Inspector Scott as she walks into the psychologist''s office without knocking, one hand stifling a yawn. Its been a long day and its already after working hours. but this meeting had to take place on her own personal time. After all, Inspector Scott has been seeking counseling to get over her depression arising from a disastrous marriage. The middle aged, balding man at the large desk looks up from an open file and gestures for Scott to have a seat on the chaise longue in the corner of the room. As Scott makes herself comfortable, the middle aged man heaves himself up from his seat, his large belly shaking with the effort and makes a circuit of the room with the file in his hand. After satisfying himself, he settles into a seat beside the chaise longue, ready to begin the session. "Now, Ms Scott, how are you feeling today? Any problems with your new job?" The fat man asks. Inspector Scott rolls her eyes before responding, "I know that this room is secure Hartley. No need for the playacting. You are a lousy actor anyway." "That''s Senior Inspector Hartley to you, my dear." The fat man says with a friendly laugh, "but, seriously, how are things with your new job?" "Undercover work is tough," Scott grumbles, "I have no idea how to teach and Tensei keeps getting himself into trouble. Did you know that he just had a duel with the Matsui heir? Something, something honor they were saying." Scott waves her hands about vaguely in emphasis. Hartley frowns and asks, "I hope that you did put a stop to that foolishness. The P5 has made it very clear that the von Amsterg successor is not to meet with any harm. Especially now. A message may need to be sent to the Matsuis telling them that Tensei is off-limits." Scott sighs tiredly, "That''s the thing though. Tensei and Ken have become friends after the whole thing. So no harm seems to have been done? I doubt the Matsui family is going to be a problem from now on." Hartley nods silently to himself. The Person of Interest does have a way of making friends where ever he goes. Not charisma per se, more like force of personality. Scott continues, "I am more worried about that new hire, Mr Greer. Any updates on your end about him?" Hartley leafs through the file before handing a few pages to Scott for her to refer, "I have checked out that Greer fellow. The records we have on him confirm what he told Constable Naiberg during the interview. Refugee, got a job with the Academy, applied for and received new ID from The City. Everything seems to check out." "You don''t find it suspicious?" Scott says as she narrows her eyes, reading the documents, "A sudden hire with no past, obviously trained in combat, all of a sudden showing up like that, with the war of succession over the von Amsterg family about to start? Its too convenient." Hartley makes a motion of dismissal as he responds, "Of course its suspicious. But that''s all it is. I cannot authorize taking action against Mr Greer with what is before me. You need to bring me something more substantial than your suspicions. Anyway, I called you here because I wanted to talk about the warehouse incident." "There has been a lead? You were looking into the Judecca Militia right?" Scott asks. Hartley shakes his head, "Not precisely. You hear about the Highway Hell incident? Fake ORPO officer flags down a vehicle, gets into a fight with the driver and passengers?"This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Scott shifts into a more comfortable position saying, "Sure. Its been all over the news. Multiple civilian casualties, battle magic being thrown about. What about it?" "The driver and passengers, they were part of the Judecca Militia." Hartley explains, "The fake ORPO officer did not linger after he attacked them. No valuables were stolen either. We have concluded that it was a targeted strike against the Militia." "Well, with all the magic thrown about, identifying the mystery man should not be difficult." Scott remarks, "He should have left his spiritual signature all over the scene." Hartley smiles before saying, "Here''s the kicker. Forensics could not find a single speck of the attacker''s spirituality. We combed the entire area and examined the corpses inside out. Zero identifying traces of the attacker. Sound familiar?" "Just like the warehouse." Scott gasps. "Of the driver and 7 passengers in the vehicle, we have 1 survivor, 1 injured, 3 in critical condition and 3 dead." Hartley continues referring to the file, "The two survivors who could still talk report that they were attacked head on by the fake officer and were overwhelmed either by his physical strength or his magic." "The unknown attacker at the warehouse," Scott breathes, "Its him." "Its likely," Hartley cautions, "but we don''t have any real proof of that yet. The survivors also say that the attacker was wearing a helmet the whole time, so that won''t be able to identify him. A pity, but expected. Also there is the ORPO connection to consider." Scott raises her eyes in surprise, "What connection? Didn''t ORPO issue a statement that it was just some fake wearing their uniform? Also, since when did ORPO have battle mages in their ranks?" Hartley glances about the office before speaking once again, "This is confidential, so keep it between us. My, uh, source in ORPO tells me that ORPO was scrambling a squad to assist the attacker while the ambush was taking place. The attacker radioed their dispatcher with a valid officer number and everything. ORPO has been keeping this a secret ever since the news of the attack broke." Scott stares speechless for a moment before finally remarking, "But ORPO''s taking Legion money now. Why would they assist in a strike against a Legion backed PMC?" Hartley raps his knuckles lightly on the file before admonishing the inspector, "Think Scott. The Judecca Militia are linked to the Von Amsterg family through their old ties with the Iron Octopus. Does that automatically mean that they are a Legion backed PMC?" Scott falls into silence, reflecting on the implications of what Hartley just said. "Now lets say that the Legion has its own ideas about how the succession of the von Amsterg family should play out," Hartley continues, "Wouldn''t the prudent first step be to declaw the von Amstergs before laying down terms?" Scott sits up from the chaise longue and looks Hartley in the eye, "You think ORPO is assisting the Legion''s interference in the succession dispute?" Hartley nods solemnly, "Its the thread I see tying all the events together. And Tensei is standing right in the middle of everything. That is why I called you here today Scott. There is a strong probability that you will sooner or later meet up with the mystery attacker." Scott snorts derisively, "I can handle him. I am one of the strongest battle mages in SOPO." Hartley smiles, "No doubt, but remember, our man is very likely receiving help from ORPO as well. As long as ORPO is shielding him, he will be able to freely move about The City without hindrance, hide in plain sight and most dangerously, strike when you least expect it. With that ORPO getup he would even be able to openly gain access to the Academy without you being the wiser. Do not let your guard down." Hartley jabs his finger at Scott for emphasis. Scott eyes flash with a moment of inspiration before asking, "If he has been registered with an officer number at ORPO, wouldn''t that mean we have a means of working out our mystery man''s true identity?" Hartley takes out another set of documents and hands them to Scott, "John Doe. That''s the name the officer number was registered under. More worryingly, there is also complete set of legitimate City ID issued under that name. Whoever is pulling the strings has strong connections with both ORPO and the government." Scott sighs, leafing through the set of documents before handing it back to Hartley, "Well, I will keep what you said in mind. Is there anything else?" Hartley shakes his head before gesturing to the door, "No, Ms Scott. Remember, divorce does not have to mean the end of your life." Scott gets up from the chaise longue and gives a tired wave, "I will let you know if I find any mystery men worth talking about." The One Who Was Left Behind I had spent the next few days holed up in the apartment finishing up the reading list The Voice had prepared for me. The Voice on its own part told me that it would be busy investigating the Judecca Militia and how it connected with the warehouse and the Hero. With no interruptions from The Voice and no sudden crisis situations, I made good progress with reading up on the life stories of the remaining two heroines. I would probably be done with the files in another day or two at this rate. So lets talk about Rose Von Amsterg, the heroine behind door number 2. Beautiful, curvaceous, wealthy and flamboyant, she is a woman who already has everything, except the thing she wants the most, the only object that can fill the yawning void in her heart. That thing, of course, being the Hero, or at least his little brother, as far as I see it. You see, Rose von Amsterg is what most people in my world would refer to as a brocon. Except not the gross kind who fancies their actual brother. She hungers for the little brother of her pretend brother you see, and that makes it all better. Also she hates her actual brother. Don''t ask me. I was not the one who set all this shit up. Gustav had two children, an elder son named Nicholas von Amsterg and a younger daughter who was Rose obviously. Both were brought up in the style to be expected of the scions of a ruling house. In this environment, Nicholas and Rose wanted for nothing and were surrounded by servants and arranged playmates that would grant their every whim. However one day, a new playmate joined them, the son of dear departed Uncle Abe, the Hero. Nicholas immediately disliked the Hero, seeing him as competition for the inheritance that he saw as his birthright. Apparently after Abe died, Gustav''s family was salivating over the prospect of a united House von Amsterg and Nicholas had been fed the line that he would be the so-called great unifier. Tensei''s sudden appearance and Gustav''s acknowledgment of him as Abe''s lawful heir put that dream in danger. As Gustav began to treat Tensei as a distant but official member of the family, Nicholas'' fear of the inheritance slipping through his fingers became increasingly strident. Dislike soured into hostility. Rose on the other hand, having no dog in the succession war, simply saw Tensei as yet another suck up hired by her father to keep her entertained and out of trouble. The Hero, having seen the treatment dished out against his mother by the von Amstergs as well as experiencing first hand the hostility from Gustav''s family, was in no mood to humor Rose. Tensei''s refusal to be an obedient playmate intrigued Rose and she began looking deeper into the background of this new family member. Rose quickly found out the truth about Tensei and decided to use him as replacement for Nicholas. You see, since Nicholas was likely to be named the designated heir, the only political value Rose had was as a marriage partner to another noble house. While Nicholas loves Rose as a sister, he also views her getting married as part of her duty to the family. Rose through her marriage was to add to the strength of the von Amstergs. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Rose naturally saw things differently, and came to resent Nicholas for attempting to force this role on her. This drew Rose even closer to Tensei, as Tensei did not have any such expectation of her. Furthermore, Rose realized that as Tensei was the only legal heir of Abe, when he came into his inheritance, Tensei would have the standing to shield her from Nicholas'' demands. To Rose, Tensei represented the one thing her family could not give her. Her freedom. Rose made it her business to protect and nurture Tensei during the time he lived with the von Amstergs. It was during this time of extended interaction with the Hero that she began to regard him as the brother she never had. Drawn by the gravity of the Hero''s density and starved of affection from a cold father, a calculating brother and a generally politically driven family, Rose was ready to give her heart to the Hero, in exchange for the priceless treasure she wanted the most. Love. Seriously Voice? You''re really big on melodrama huh? I suppose its better than being into hentai. Small mercies I suppose. Alright, back to the story. But one day, without warning, the Hero disappeared. Rose was heartbroken. Her dreams of love and freedom cruelly dashed, she set off to fight for the freedom she so badly craved. The first thing she did was to start working on her magic. If she could prove that she was stronger than Nick, a case could be made to Gustav for a reevaluation of who his heir should be. Nicholas, as the elder son, had expected to inherit from Gustav in due course. He was schooled extensively in magic and statecraft, acheiving modest success in both, but from The Voice''s analysis, it was the von Amsterg name and blood that had carried him most of the way. Nick also easily took to the life of a wealthy heir, generally spending money like water and amassing a large fleet of super cars and beauty queens to entertain himself with. Gustav was annoyed by his son''s antics, but generally turned a blind eye. That changed when Rose began showing massive improvement in her studies and magic. The enhancements The Voice had provided her with were kicking in. Gustav began to make noises, saying that he had no need for a useless heir. Nick was surprised by Rose''s sudden improvement but there was no way he could match her. Not with the boost that she had gotten from The Voice. So he did the next best thing. He began talking up Rose''s value as a bride. A powerful, accomplished woman would attract the heir of an equally powerful House into a union with the von Amstergs. Rose realized the danger Nick''s plot posed to her and quickly applied to continue her studies at the Academy, hoping that geographical distance would put a damper on that plan. Gustav also saw through his son''s scheme and purchased an estate for Rose''s use in The City, signalling his support for her. Nick nevertheless retains support from the other members of the family, who sees him as someone more pliable and putting it more bluntly, impressionable, than Rose. The fight between the siblings had only just begun. It was at Academy that Rose met the Hero again. Caught between love and anger, Rose was initially confused as to how to proceed. But after the Hero explained what had happened, she understood that Naiberg had taken her place at his side. Not only would Rose have to fight for her freedom, she would also have to fight for her love. Work hard Heroine von Amsterg. I look forward to witnessing your struggle, I think to myself as I raise a bottle of drinking water in toast. A Possible Lead I hurriedly stride through the corridor of the main building heading towards the Administration Department, distractedly finishing off a bottle of drinking water The Voice had spawned for me. After several days cooped up in the apartment I was savoring the opportunity to stretch my legs and do something else other than reading. I was also worried out of my mind. With The Voice preoccupied with whatever it was doing at the moment, I finally completed studying up on all the Heroines after several more days of uninterrupted reading. Once I finished going through the data of the third and last heroine, I immediately slammed the file shut as the ramifications of the information within ran through my mind. Heroine number 3, the Idol. Something stank about her sudden return to the Academy, and from the information I have on hand, I strongly suspected that Fate was using the Idol to screw with my host as well. I needed to discuss the Idol with Alley urgently and see whether she could help in my investigation before things got out of hand. ..... The moment I show up before the desk of Alley''s secretary, the secretary with a frown on her face immediately tells me that Alley had been looking for me for the past few days before dropping a few not so subtle hints about my absenteeism. When I ask to meet with Alley right away, the secretary, with barely concealed satisfaction, tells me to head immediately into Alley''s office, obviously relishing the thought of Alley tearing me a new one. As I march into the office, Alley glares coldly at me, and an awkward silence settles between the two of us. Alley finally breaks the silence saying, "Mr Greer, the police contacted me some time back about your altercation on the campus grounds. Care to explain what that was about?" I shrug replying, "Spotted some trespassers. Got attacked by them, defended myself." The awkward silence settles in the office again. Alley makes an annoyed noise in her throat before gesturing at me to continue. I just shrug noncommittally at her again. Given Alley''s status as a not so voluntary ally, I was not going to go into a long explanation about the Hero. Besides, even if I explained everything to her, there was no guarantee that she would believe me. Alley continues to glare at me before changing tack, "Then would you explain why this is the first time I have met my deputy in the office ever since hiring him?" "I''ve been working off campus." the answer comes easily to me, especially since it was true, "Anyway, I need to discuss something with you." Alley raises an eyebrow but says nothing. "Its about my actual job, the one for our mutual friend." I clarify. Alley immediately goes on guard, her hands folded across her chest as she eyes me warily. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I quickly get to the point, "That idol, Kirarin, she is a student at this school, isn''t she?" Alley nods slowly before replying, "Yes. Kira Majima. What about her?" "Are you aware of the details regarding her management company?" I ask, "There was a change very recently wasn''t there?" I already knew the answer to this question from The Voice''s data on the Idol, but I needed to confirm my suspicions. Alley turns to her computer and starts pulling out records, "Yes. The management company wrote to the Academy recently about a change in their ownership and contact. Let''s see, the new owner is a company called "Gallant Entertainment". Bought out the old owner. Ms Majima''s agent remains the same though." "When did Gallant Entertainment buy over the management company? Did they tell you?" I ask hurriedly. This was a detail that was overlooked by The Voice, and something that was bugging me ever since the Gallant name came to my attention in the data that had been compiled on the Idol. Alley scowls at my rude questioning for a moment before replying, "From the letter they sent to the Academy, I would say not more than 2 weeks ago, though I would have no idea of the exact date." Not more than 2 weeks ago. Meaning that Gallant''s family got involved with one of the Heroines just after Fate''s failed assassination attempt on me. Is Fate trying to trap me using my host''s family? Since Fate cannot directly perceive Gallant ever since I was summoned back into his body, I cannot discount that possibility. Whatever the case, the timing is no coincidence. Fate was probably literally yanking various chains in order to set this scenario up. "The Board of Governors approved of a joint project between the Academy and Majima''s management didn''t they?" I continue to quiz Alley. Alley scans the screen of her computer and nods again, "A concert to be held in The City, bringing together the talent of two different generations. Ms Majima will be performing with our Mr Trietel. You know of him?" I shake my head and Alley continues, "Music teacher here. Widely regarded as a genius in his field. The Board has decided to use this concert to showcase the Academy possessing not one, but two once in a generation musical talents. The concert is meant to add to the Academy''s prestige on an international scale." Alley narrows her eyes at me before continuing, "Whatever your interest in this is, remember that if you mess the event up, I can no longer cover for you, regardless what our mutual friend says. The Board will have your head." "When and where will this concert take place?" I press on. Alley responds, "On the campus itself. Its not going to be a regular pop concert, more like a classical recital. The actual pop concerts will be held after this event. As to when, we don''t have the details. You will need to ask the planning committee, or better yet, the performers themselves." So, the scenario will center on the Academy itself, no doubt pulling in the Hero as well. I have said it before and I will say it again. This stinks. Badly. "Can you give me all the information you have on this concert?" I ask. The Voice did not pay much attention to the concert itself, probably because the actual details were not available for it to retrieve. I will need to seek out this teacher and the Idol in order to get the unavailable information directly from them. Good thing I can approach them in the guise of a staff member. "Oh, one more thing," I say before Alley can reply, "You won''t mind if I liaise with the performers on behalf of Administration? I will keep you in the loop if anything needs doing." Alley just sighs resignedly as she hands me a slim file, "Just try not to cripple anyone this time Mr Greer." The Tragedy of War After leaving Alley''s office, I had spent the next few minutes scanning the file that she gave me in a quiet corner of the Administration Wing. Nothing much there that I didn''t already know, but the file did contain a note stating that rehearsals for the upcoming concert were every other day of the week. These rehearsals would be held in the afternoon at the building''s main hall. A rather punishing schedule given the fact that no date for the concert had apparently been set yet. That meant one thing, the concert, and whatever scenario Fate had cooked up, was going to be put into motion soon. I had noticed the connection between Gallant''s family and this event just in time. Being forewarned and all of that. With some luck, I would be able to prevent Fate from blindsiding me in the future. I would have a chance this afternoon to crash one of these rehearsals and pump the Idol or this Trietel guy for information. In the meantime, I was looking forward to having something other than the sandwiches and bottled water The Voice had been spawning for me everyday. The Voice had asserted that the food it was preparing was healthier and better balanced than anything served in the Academy cafeteria, but it tasted all so terribly bland. I could not bear the thought of chowing down on yet another flavorless meal. Before leaving the apartment, I managed to badger The Voice into spawning me some money instead so that I could eat something else for a change. I succeeded mainly because The Voice wanted me out of its metaphorical hair so that it could get back to whatever it was doing. Not the most glorious of wins, but I''ll take a win over a god any day. And so I marched towards the cafeteria, looking forward to partaking in the spoils of my victory. Or at the very least something appropriately salty and greasy. ... I meditatively chew on the curry rice that I had ordered, reviewing The Voice''s briefing on the final heroine, the Idol. If I am going to be meeting up with her after this, I might as well take the opportunity to prepare. So, Kira Majima, better known as Kirarin. She was ... problematic, to say the least. When I say problematic, I don''t just mean that this heroine has drama. Drama is something that all the heroines share in common. The Idol''s problem is that she wants to murder the Hero. Preferably after raping him, but from what I''ve read, I don''t think she is particularly fussy on that count. True love transcends the boundary between life and death after all. But why the obsession with rape? To answer that question, you have to look back, once again, to the Hero''s increasingly convoluted past. And in this case, the circumstances of the Hero''s birth. As has been already established, the Hero''s mother was captured as spoils of war after the battle that had ravaged Berlin. Old Abe thought that Julianne was just some pretty thing for him to have his way with, but that was not entirely correct. Julianne herself might not have been anyone particularly important, but the House of Etoil was a different matter. A well established noble house within the Host, House Etoil was made out of barking militants who were itching to throw down against the Legion. As to why Abe had never heard of them before, the reason was surprisingly simple. At that time, House Etoil was an unknown name on earth. The Millennium War was their grand entrance on the big blue planet. And when I say grand entrance, I mean Grand, with the capital G. House Etoil did not limit their contribution to mere foot soldiers. Actual, blood family members were dispatched to lead their armies from the front and to earn merit. It was under these circumstances that Julianne became an officer in the Host and found herself in Berlin. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Of course House Etoil would not treat their blood like any old foot soldier, even one as distant and unimportant as Julianne. To keep the family safe, personal bodyguards drawn from long serving retainers of the House would be dispatched as well. Julianne got the Majimas, a husband and wife pair that were sworn to protect her on their lives. During the rout of the Host at Berlin, Julianne was separated from the Majimas and fell into Abe''s sweaty hands. The Majimas searched high and low for her, to no avail. With much wailing in distress and beating of their breasts, the Majimas could only concede defeat. A stroke of ill fortune during a time of war had decided Julianne''s fate. However, the truth of the matter was that Mrs Majima was pregnant with the Idol at this time, and the Majimas were obviously not very keen on endangering their unborn daughter for Julianne''s sake. The chaos of the retreat made it easy for the Majimas to lose track of Julianne and abandon her the moment things got too hot for their liking. With no one to challenge their version of events, the truth was covered up and the Majimas thought that they could simply go on with their lives. Unfortunately for them, the reversal of the Host''s fortunes in Europe meant that the leadership demanded answers, and most importantly, people to blame. It was at this time that Julianne reemerged as the unwilling guest of House von Amsterg. The indignities that she had experienced made the Majimas, her erstwhile bodyguards, an easy target for censure. The Majimas were labelled as incompetents and were to be kicked out from the Host. By this time, the Idol had been born and the prospects for the family looked grim. The Majimas bargained for the chance to regain their honor and House Etoil agreed to their request. The Majimas would perform a high risk assault on Legion positions as part of a Glorious Redemption unit. If they succeeded, the stain of their disgrace would be washed clean and the Majimas would return to their place of honor in House Etoil. If they died in the attempt, the Idol would be taken in by the Host and cared for. No one talked about just surviving the mission obviously. The executioner''s ax was waiting for anyone in the unit who tried to cut and run. The Majimas were unceremoniously slaughtered during the course of their mission and the Idol was taken in by the Host as agreed. Under their capable though indifferent care, the Idol bloomed into a girl of beauty and talent. It was during this time the Idol heard the story of Julianne, her parent''s disgrace and death as well as the circumstances behind the Hero''s birth. The Idol acquired a burning hatred for the Hero, blaming him for the downfall of her family. She resolved to mold her talents so that one day she would be able to kill him, restoring the balance of honor. But we return to the question, why the obsession with rape? It was through chance that the Idol met the Hero before she was ready. During a fan handshake event a few years ago, some lunatic barged in armed with a chainsaw, wanting to rip pieces off the Idol in a fit of unrequited love. The Hero who was coincidentally there at the moment, rose to the occasion and saved the day, after getting his gut chainsawed open. As the Hero lay dying in a pool of blood, the Idol gazed upon the person that she had learned to hate for years, the only person out of the masses of fans there who was willing to lay his life down for her sake. It was at this point the Idol felt nothing but shame, that the man she wanted to kill was her savior. Of course the Hero got all better from a chainsaw to the stomach and the Idol was introduced to the man that had saved her life. It was at this meeting, looking into those clear eyes that the Idol realized, that yes, this was the man she loves. But how was she going to resolve the issue of needing to get revenge for her parents? That debt of honor still needed to be repaid. The Idol hit upon at utterly insane solution to the problem. The Idol would approach the Hero and get herself pregnant by him. After getting pregnant, she would proceed to murder him, both satisfying honor and possessing the seed of his love. If the Hero refuses to give her what she wants or gets wise? Well, its a good thing that the Idol is willing to get creative with how to interpret the word "no". I am going to strongly suggest to The Voice that we prevent the Hero from getting on the Idol''s path, if its not too late. The Pied Piper After taking lunch, I elected to use the remaining downtime to go on a little tour of the campus. It was a shame to be working here, officially at least, and not actually know my way around. It was also a good chance to relax before getting back into the thick of things. The school I attended back home was a state run affair, meaning it was drab, not particularly well maintained and built based on a boiler plate. The rambling, well kept grounds of Unity Academy were the direct opposite of my own school and I was not going to miss the chance to enjoy the atmosphere just a little. As I completed my circuit around the campus, it struck me how utterly peaceful everything was. If The Voice had not been so adamant that the end of the world was approaching, I would have easily concluded that the world had settled down from the Millennium War. But that was precisely the problem at hand. A thin veneer of peace had been plastered over a surging undercurrent. The histories of the Hero and the Heroines were proof of that. This was a world straining under the weight of various deadly rivalries and feuds. And it was only a matter of time before the dam broke and the current swept everything away. How did things ever get so bad? My first instinct was to blame The Voice. This whole affair reeked of negligence on the part of our esteemed Administrator. Then I remembered something, I was making the mistake of thinking about both The Voice and Fate in human terms. The Voice had already acknowledged that it gained nothing from sapient life, or any form of life period, inhabiting this world. From that perspective, mega deaths occurring would be something The Voice would, at best, have no opinion about. More likely, The Voice would cheer the prospect of those deaths weakening the influence of its rival, Fate. So there was no negligence on The Voice''s part. It simply was not in The Voice''s interest to protect life on this world. What had changed was Fate managing to hatch a plot where those mega deaths would result in the destruction of The Voice''s power as well. The Voice had been out-maneuvered, plain and simple. So that leads us to the bizarre situation of a god of matter trying to protect lives, while the god who rules over souls trying to end them. The irony would be amusing, if I was not right at ground zero. It was also something that I had to remember. The Voice ultimately does not want to save the world. It wants to save itself. What would happen if The Voice managed to find a way to both keep its power and end the world? I shudder. No prizes on guessing what the natural outcome of that scenario would be. I had to keep my head clear and in the game if I wanted to walk away from all this alive. If it came down to it, would I help The Voice end the world in return for a ticket home?If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I don''t know. I don''t want to know. ... It is in this pensive mood that I make my way to the main hall. As I approach, I hear the thrill of violins and the melody of a piano sounding out in harmony. An orchestra? Not something I was expecting an idol singer to be participating in, but Alley did mention the event being on the lines of a proper recital rather than a teeny bopper concert. I push open the double doors of the main hall and step inside. And what meets me is an absolutely massive field of spirituality. The entire hall is covered by this spiritual field, radiating from a distinguished looking wolf eared gentleman standing on stage. He carries a conductor''s baton in his hand and directs the orchestra rehearsing on stage with it. As the orchestra plays at the direction of this man, the spiritual field rises and falls in harmony with the music. Like a gentle wave, the spirituality flows over the small crowd gathered near the stage and eventually washes over me as well. I grimace in discomfort as I am enveloped by the wave. The once melodious music suddenly becomes completely off key and reminds me of a power drill boring into a wall. Loud, unpleasant and annoying. If the Academy is hoping to impress VIPs with this performance, the Board of Governors might want to rethink that plan. Then I notice the crowd gathered by the stage. They move in harmony as the wave of spirituality sweeps through them. They are no signs of discomfort or annoyance coming from the crowd. As the orchestra plays, the crowd gets more and more wrapped up in the performance and it soon becomes clear that the conductor is not just directing the orchestra, but the crowd as well. Its as if the orchestra and crowd had morphed into a single, indivisible being. Was it a matter of perception? As an outsider not of this world, could I just not be able to perceive whatever magic the conductor was using? At this point of the rehearsal, the Idol steps forward on the stage and begins to sing, in I dunno, Latin? Her spiritual field flares and expands outwards in the same style of the conductor, though it is much weaker. As she sings, the field begins to pulse, and waves gently sweep towards the crowd and myself. She is doing the exact same thing the conductor is doing. This means that the conductor must be that teacher, Trietel. The crowd sighs in rapture as the waves of spirituality from the Idol wash over them. I wish I could hear whatever they were hearing, since from my perspective, the power drill had been joined by a berserk howler monkey. I rub my right ear in irritation as the shrieking and drilling reaches a crescendo. With a final swing of his baton, Conductor concludes the set and the noise mercifully stops. The spiritual fields exerted by both the Conductor and the Idol disperse. The crowd sighs in disappointment at the end of the performance before breaking out in applause. Conductor bows gracefully while the Idol blushes and blows kisses into the crowd. "Alright," the Conductor says, "take a break everyone. We still have many more sets to rehearse." The crowd begins to disperse as the orchestra sets their instruments down and leave for their break. I square my shoulders and move towards the stage. One show may be over, but another was about to begin. Administrative Issues As I walk towards the stage with the file tucked under my armpit, the Conductor turns and sees me approaching, wolf ears twitching all the while. As the Conductor focuses his attention on me, I see that the amicable expression on his face changes sharply to one of surprise as his bushy eyebrows rise nearly to the top of his head. The Conductor quickly schools his expression into one of studied neutrality as he plays with his black, neatly trimmed beard. I walk up to him and extend my hand asking, "Mr Trietel I presume?" The Conductor grasps my hand in a firm handshake but does not respond. The somewhat distracted look returns to his face and he forgets to return my greeting. Instead he adjusts the slicked black hair on his head, unconsciously tracing the streaks of silver running through them with his right hand. That''s odd. This is the first time my condition affected anyone twice. The Conductor should have fully recovered by now and taken in my presence. "Is there something on my face?" I ask. The Conductor jumps at my question and laughs awkwardly, "No! No! I am just a bit overwhelmed. Its not everyday you meet a local celebrity. Mr Greer right?" Local celebrity? What''s this guy talking about? Seeing the puzzled look on my face, the Conductor explains in an embarrassed voice as his gold rimmed glasses glint in the light, "Your, uh, meeting with the local crime family has made the rounds in the staff room. That and your prolonged absence from the Academy just after getting hired. There was talk that you went into hiding or on the run now that the Matsui heir was looking for you." I sigh and make a motion of dismissal with my hand, "That story again? I am never going to live that event down am I? I just got my balls busted by the boss this morning about the whole thing." The Conductor smiles apologetically, expressing his sympathies. Not even a month in and I am already the talk of the town. Damn it. I quickly continue the conversation before the awkwardness becomes too much, "Anyway, I am not a member of the teaching staff, so its natural that you would not have seen much of me. I do most of my work off campus. I am only here today because of your upcoming concert." That gets the Conductor''s attention. "Oh!" his voice rises in alarm, "Is there a problem Mr Greer?" I open the file I was carrying and retrieve two sets of documents from within. I pass over one set to the Conductor and look around for the Idol. The Conductor furrows his brow as he takes the documents and notices me casting about for his co-star. He quickly gestures towards one of the idling orchestra members and indicates that the Idol be brought to meet me at once. The orchestra member rushes backstage and quickly retrieves the Idol. She briskly walks towards us and stands respectfully behind the Conductor while going through the usual spazzing out as she adapts to my presence. Once she has recovered, I hand her the other set of documents still in my hands. "Just need both of you to sign something for me." I explain to the pair, "Its the contract for your remuneration regarding the concert. The Board has agreed to both your proposed fees for the performance. Just sign the agreement and I can send it back to Administration for processing." I hand a pen over to the Conductor. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The Conductor nods and quickly signs the documents and passes the pen over to the Idol. She signs as well and soon both sets of documents are back in my file. I quickly pull out a timetable and address both of them again. "Alright, now that the money issue is settled, let''s talk about when this concert is actually going to be held." I say. An embarrassed look crosses the Idol''s face and she looks at the Conductor for support. He frowns for a moment before replying, "Kira''s management has not set a concrete date for the concert yet, other than it is to be happening very soon. We are still trying to bring in additional players for the orchestra. Maybe even a dance troupe to perform in accompaniment. We need to make this event perfect. I am sure that the Board of Governors would understand." What? That''s the most backwards reason I have ever heard. At the rate you guys are rehearsing, I am sure a date has already been set in private. I don''t know why you are trying to keep it a secret, but it can''t be for anything good. I push the timetable into the Conductor''s hands and sternly respond, "The highlighted dates are the only times when the entire Board can attend the performance. And trust me, the Board insists on attending. So which date will it be?" "Well," the Conductor hesitates, "I suppose the concert will be held on the last week of the month." I knew it. You know the date. You just don''t want to tell me. What''s your game here? "The last week of the month. You confirm?" I eyeball the Conductor while saying this. He nods. "Then I will arrange for the various suppliers to start sending the evening wear for your orchestra and the stage sets for the performance immediately. You are able to take possession of these items?" I challenge the Conductor. No taksies backsies guy. You are going to confirm the date for me one way or the other. The Conductor raises his palms up in protest, "Where will all this stuff be stored in the meantime? You cannot rush the preparations like this!" I raise my eyebrow, "In the hall of course. I''ll book the hall for your use one week before the actual performance. The items can be stored here and the stage set up at the same time." I tap the timetable in the Conductor''s hands, "Just tell me when you want the items delivered and I''ll arrange everything." And the trap closes. Go me. The Conductor sighs in defeat and scrutinizes the timetable one more time. He finally marks a date with the pen I gave him. "There, deliver everything on this date." he replies. I nod, satisfied. There, I have locked in the time when Fate is going to spring whatever its got planned. Now, to satisfy my curiosity. "So, what was that you were doing just now during the rehearsal? I have never experienced anything like it." I ask. Before the Conductor can answer, the Idol cuts in, "Its amazing isn''t it! The power of magic and song, creating a world made purely for the performer and listener. Its heaven on earth!" "Uh." I unintelligibly say. What in the world are you talking about? The Conductor smiles indulgently at the Idol and picks up the conversation, "What Kira means is that by combining our magic with the music being performed, a kind of "closed space" is created that is shared between the performers and the audience. There, our performance is not just about ordinary music, but the music that springs from the depths of our hearts. Its a very intimate experience, don''t you think Mr Greer? We share something deeply personal of ourselves with the audience during the performance." the Conductor gives me a salacious wink, "As if it were between lovers, eh?" No. No thank you. I am never going to take a power drill or a howler monkey as a lover. "It was quite something." I finally manage to say. The Idol nods enthusiastically, "Yes! It is! And we are getting the chance to share this magic with everyone. Will you be joining us for the concert then, Mr Greer?" I give a thumbs up to both of them as I begin to leave the hall. The Idol waives back happily. But the Conductor merely turns away from me and heads backstage without a word of farewell. Moving Day I grunt in exertion as I haul yet another heavy suitcase out of the limo''s passenger area and dump it by the entrance of the girl''s dorm. The driver gives a tired huff as he finishes emptying out the limo''s boot that had been filled to the brim with luggage and moves to help me with my share of the work. Does one person actually need all this stuff? "Hurry it up Tensei," Rose grumbles from the dorm entrance, "I don''t want to spend the whole day waiting around outside." I pant as another piece of luggage is hauled out of the limo, "What is in all these bags anyway?" "Uniforms, casual clothes, formal wear, my books, various knick knacks." Rose looks at me squarely in the eye, "Don''t tell me that you are getting tired already Tensei. I thought that you were always a reliable sort. How disappointing." "Its not that I mind helping," I say as I return to the limo, wrestling with yet another bag, "but can the dorm room hold so much stuff in the first place?" Rose pauses for a moment, considering my question, "Maybe? Probably? I rented the largest room available. We can sort that out once everything has been moved inside." The largest room? Well there are empty double rooms for rent at the top floor girl''s dorm so I suppose all this stuff could be crammed in. In theory at least. "It looks like you are almost done with the unloading anyway." Rose observes, "I''ll go call the lift now." I nod as I fish the last bag from the limo and nod to the driver. He nods in return and returns to the driver''s seat, fires up the limo''s engine and pulls away. Rose quickly returns after the limo has left, exclaiming, "Oh! Where is the driver?" I turn, looking at her with a quizzical look, "He left after the car was unloaded. What''s wrong?" Rose explains, "The lift is broken so we will need to use the stairs. I was hoping that the driver could help with moving everything upstairs, but since he is not here, I suppose I''ll have to count on you, Tensei." I face palm mentally. Good thing I keep in shape. .... After hauling everything up to Rose''s room in the dorm and arranging the bags neatly, I sit down on the bed and take a deep breath, letting my muscles unwind. Rose opens one of the bags and takes out a clean towel. She then climbs onto the bed beside me and begins drying my sweat. "You''re all wet." She says, "Take off your shirt." Without waiting for my response, she unbuttons my shirt and strips it off, chucking it on the floor. Rose then begins wiping my body vigorously with the towel. "Rose, I..." I stutter as the towel moves across my back and torso, my face red as a tomato. Rose moves closer to me saying, "Shh. Just let your sister help, alright? You have worked hard today." I swallow and nod, submitting to Rose''s ministrations. As we grew older, Rose got more and more into this kind of body contact. She claimed that it was only natural for family to be close to each other, but I never really got over my sense of embarrassment whenever something like this happened. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Rose finally puts down the towel, satisfied that I am now completely dry. She then begins kneading my shoulders and back, relaxing my tight muscles. "Its just like old times." I murmur to myself. Rose laughs gently, "Eheh. You still remember? I used to do this for Tensei after Master gave you another thrashing in the field. Master even once complained that I was a bad student for refusing to do this for her after one of our exercises." Rose then leans forward and whispers into my ear, "I respect Master, but this is a special service. Just for family." The pressure in her fingers builds and I involuntarily release a moan of pleasure. This is way too dangerous! I need to distract Rose or we might do something ... something, well I am not sure what, but we should not be doing it! Whatever it is. Which Rose wants to do. Which we should not. Right? Right. "What happened to Master anyway?" I ask. I was always curious about that after I had left Uncle''s place. Rose hums as she thinks, "Master? She left soon after you did actually. She was disgusted with how Nicholas was shaping up and said that her path of magic would not allow her to teach someone like him. I heard that she is currently working as a bodyguard for another rich family." That makes sense. Master was sworn to some kind of code or ideology, I never really understood what it was. She was called the hand of judgment or something like that, and her magic was somehow tied to that title. Its strange, a demon walking the path of judgment, but from what I heard, Master was one of the strongest practitioners of this style of magic. That was the reason why Uncle hired her as a tutor. "Why didn''t you bring your maid to help move the luggage Rose?" I ask. That was a lot of it. I could have used some help back there. I hear the annoyance in Rose''s voice as she responds, "Don''t remind me of her. I just had her lashed and thrown out of the manor before coming here. That idiot should have known better than to pull such a moronic stunt." Lashed? I tense up immediately. What has been going on back at the von Amsterg manor? Rose notices the renewed tension in my muscles and increases the force of her fingers as she explains, "That maid had pulled a silly stunt that confirmed my suspicions that she was working for Nicholas. She was lucky to receive just a lashing. Nothing happened to you, right Tensei? No meetings with strange people or anything like that?" "Well, no, not really." I reply, "I did meet up with a strange person, a teacher here, but I don''t think that he is linked with either Uncle or Nicholas." Rose breathes a sigh of relief, "No. That is not what I was worried about. The person you are talking about is probably just a random weirdo Tensei, nothing to do with Nicholas." "So, why are you moving here Rose? I thought Uncle had bought that manor for you?" I query. Rose stops massaging my back and becomes completely silent. After gathering her thoughts, she finally replies, "Nicholas just moved in. So I moved out. That''s all." Nicholas is here, in The City? Something must be up. "Tell me what''s going on Rose." I gently urge, "I cannot help you if I don''t know the facts." Rose rests her head against my back, her grip on me tightening, "Nicholas came here to sort out my marriage. The family has decided that I am to marry the heir of the Haqim family. I called father, but he refuses to entertain me. Just tells me that if I am dissatisfied with the marriage then I should be the one doing something about it." Rose takes a deep breath and continues, "So that is why I am here. Nicholas wants me to meet with the Haqim heir, but he can''t force me as long as I am not staying in the manor." That sounds just like Uncle. He probably sees this as an opportunity to put both his children to the test for the sake of who is to be his successor. I pat Rose''s hand reassuringly. "Nicholas won''t dare do anything out of hand while we are not in Europe. You are safe here." Rose''s voice is a whisper, "But for how long? All the other members of the family are on Nicholas''s side. What if they decide to cut me off? I have never worked a day in my life. I have no money of my own. If father decides to go along with their plan, I will be left with nothing." I feel hot tears run down my back. No. I will not allow this to happen. Rose is the closest thing to a sister that I have. I will protect her. "You still have me Rose. I will be here, by your side." I say. Rose sniffles and asks, "Really?" I turn around to look at Rose and place both hands on her shoulders, "We are family. That''s what family is for." The Foundation I spent the rest of the day stationed at a spare desk at the Administration Wing arranging for the delivery of the materials and clothes for the concert on the date Trietel had indicated. After talking things over the phone with all the suppliers and hearing their complaints about short notice, I passed the file back to Alley''s secretary for her to deal with the final details. Alley''s secretary gave me a frosty glare upon receiving the file and made vague threatening noises about "someone''s" lack of professionalism. I just responded with a lazy wave goodbye as I left the office. Its not as of this bit of playacting is my real job anyway. Do I even have a real job in this world in the first place? I suppose working for the world''s true god makes me a civil servant right? Explains why the pay sucks so bad. By the time I walk back to my apartment, the setting sun has painted the campus an orange hue and I need to shield my eyes from the glare while opening the door. I wonder what the Hero is up to now? What does a hero do in his spare time anyway? A stray thought enters my head. Maybe I should head over to the dorms to do a bit of spying on the Hero. Makes sure that everything is in order there. After all, the world''s future, and most importantly my future, are riding on the Hero''s shoulders. I shake my head. Forget it. If anything had happened, The Voice would have alerted me. The Hero was probably watching TV or jacking off to hentai or something else equally mundane and random. I had better things to do than watch the Hero zone out in front of a screen. Entering my apartment (how strange to already start considering a temporary arrangement "mine"), I toss my wallet and key card onto the table and begin to take off my office wear. The Voice overlooked or simply could not be bothered to spawn home clothes for me, so my time in the apartment was spent lounging about in an unbuttoned shirt and underpants. I grab one of the sandwiches The Voice had spawned for me in the kitchen and begin chowing down on my unappetizing early dinner. "Good. You are back." the familiar rasp rings out from the earpiece, "I require your assistance with a particular task." "Nice to hear from you too." I respond while making myself comfortable in front of the laptop, "No, welcome back dear, how was your day today? You really know how to make a man feel wanted." "I already know how your day went. I see no reason why we should waste each other''s time with meaningless pleasantries." The Voice deadpans as the laptop boots up. I smirk to myself saying, "Its the thought that counts man." The Voice rumbles, "I am not a man. I am not even human. As for my thoughts on how your day went, I see merit in your investigation of the concert. I shall raise my own vigilance regarding this matter." Oh? What made The Voice suddenly interested in the concert as well? The Voice continues, "You may not realize this, but Fate has begun to focus its power. I suspect that Fate will be making a move against us soon. As to how Fate intends to make its move, I have no idea, but the concert seems to be as likely a vehicle as any." So. These peaceful days are about to come to an end. "Am I being called into action for this reason?" I ask The Voice. "No. The reason why I need your help is because my own investigation has hit a wall. Are you ready to begin the briefing?" The Voice asks. Sure. Let''s do this. .... The laptop plays a video of a warehouse ablaze in flames. Its that warehouse I bombed right at the beginning. "As I had told you earlier," The Voice begins, "I would be spending the time looking into the connection between the warehouse you destroyed and the Judecca Militia." The video freezes and several mugshots and interrogation reports are brought up on the screen. The Voice continues, "I have perused the police records with regard to what they refer to as the "warehouse incident". The statements recorded by the police all point to one thing, the remnants of the Judecca Militia managing to escape capture with the item they had been guarding at the warehouse." The map of The City appears on the screen and it pans towards the airport hangar base used by the militia. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "With that lead in mind, I began sifting through all the surveillance footage available of the militia''s hideout at the airport. It was the most natural place to begin my search for whatever the militia was trying to hide and protect." I interrupt, "We have seen the surveillance footage of their airport base before. I didn''t notice any mysterious mcguffins being stored there." "Correct." The Voice confirms, "My second look at the surveillance footage yielded the exact same result. I came to the conclusion that I was too late. The militia had already moved the mystery item to a less obvious and more secure location." The laptop now shows hundreds of recordings from speed trap cameras, police CCTVs and cameras installed on private vehicles. The Voice rasps while it explains, "Just because the item was no longer at the base did not mean I had no means of tracing it. I already knew the make and registration number of the SUV the militia was using. By combing through the available traffic footage recorded from the date the warehouse was bombed to the day you attacked the militia at the highway, I was able to piece together when and where the militia was whenever they left their base." Wow. No wonder The Voice wanted to be left alone. It was probably going through hours upon hours of video just to work this detail out. "Most of the locations the militia visited were fairly innocuous. Trips to buy food and the like. There is very little chance that the mystery item was off loaded during such a trip. Neither have I captured any evidence that would point in such a direction." The Voice states, "However, one trip they made in particular stands out." The map pans back to the Red Perch Cape District and switches to a real time satellite overlay. The camera then zooms towards a tiny, unobtrusive spot in the district. As the picture blows up and the resolution sharpens to allow me to make sense of it, I notice that The Voice is referring to a stand alone garage located between two rows of shops. "You think that garage was the drop off point for the mcguffin?" I ask, "If that is the case, would we still be in time to grab it?" The Voice rasps, "That is not a garage. It is an inclinator." A what? The Voice explains, "A substantial part of The City is not the buildings you see around you. Many of the facilities that keep The City functioning such as electrical generation and waste water treatment are located below sea level, in what is referred to as the sarcophagus." A wire frame schematic of The City is drawn on the screen of the laptop. I raise my eyes in surprise. The City is built on top of a massive block of metal extending to the sea bed. That must be the sarcophagus The Voice is referring to. Several locations top side are highlighted in red as The Voice continues. "Inclinators are garage sized elevators that provide access to and from the sarcophagus. As The City was built when the memories of nuclear war were still fresh, the sarcophagus was meant to not only be the foundation of The City, but also as a final sanctuary. Its exterior is rated to be able to withstand multiple nuclear strikes and as the electrical generation and water treatment stations are located within it, the sarcophagus can sustain life, as long as its inhabitants are willing to put up with a great deal of discomfort." The schematic zooms towards one of the inclinators, drawing in its mechanisms. "The size of the inclinators allows vehicles to bring in refugees and supplies easily. To prevent any invader from easily accessing the sarcophagus from the outside, all inclinators are kept in a locked down state. When sealed, it would require heavy weaponry to breach the shutter of an inclinator. If the unit''s sensors detect that it has been compromised, a nuclear strike rated blast door will shut the elevator shaft, preventing any access through that point." "Then how would the people running the power plant and water treatment thingies actually get to their workplace?" I query. "Good question." The Voice responds, "Access to the inclinators is a vital matter of security. All maintenance crews must possess an appropriate key card as well as a one time use code that must be fed into the inclinator before it will open. The code is time locked, meaning that it can only be used at a particular time, failing which it will be completely useless. Maintenance crews therefore work on very tightly controlled schedules. They must enter and leave the sarcophagus at pre-determined times." "And I suppose the militia were not on any approved lists for this one time code?" I ask. "Correct. I have scoured City records for the appropriate code the militia used, but cannot find it anywhere. Yet it cannot be denied that the militia did manage to enter the sarcophagus." The Voice confirms, "As access is so restricted, the sarcophagus makes an excellent hiding place for whatever the militia are trying to protect." "So I will be going down there then? Why is there always a sewer mission? No one wants them, no one likes them, but they keep popping up." I grumble. The Voice laughs, "Yes. I will provide you with access to an inclinator. However you do not need to worry about wading through the muck. What I need you to do is to deploy several drones that will sweep the area for me and bring back any actionable clues for our consideration. Take the rest of the day off. We will set out tomorrow morning." Well, that''s certainly an improvement over what I was expecting. There is one more thing I one to clarify though, "Why are you so concerned about the mysterious mcguffin? You have put a lot of effort into this investigation." The Voice pauses for a moment before saying, "That mystery item. I do not know what it is, but if the militia at the warehouse was willing to lay down their lives to protect it, then it can only be one thing." "The item that you were meant to destroy. The doom of this world." Journey To The Underworld So the "doom" of the world is somewhere under my feet? That''s pretty heavy. "How are you so sure that whatever is hidden away in the sarcophagus will doom this world?" I ask The Voice, "For all you know, it may be just a vanilla nuke or a bio weapon. Serious sure, but hardly anything world ending." The Voice responds, "I have the power to sense matter on a far larger scale than what was provided to you. While there are limitations to this power, I can sense whether or not something poses a danger to this world and myself. That is the reason why I sent you to the warehouse despite not knowing what your target was. I knew for a fact that something was placed there that posed a deadly threat to me." "To you? Not the world?" I query. Slip of the tongue there, eh? "Same thing. Concentrate on what matters Transmigrator." The Voice immediately rebuts. Looks like I hit a nerve. "Fine. Answer this then, why the need for the drones? You can just provide me with another backpack of explosives and point me in the general direction of the mystery mcguffin." I respond. "I suspect that the militia has taken steps to conceal the mystery item from my sight. Most troubling. I have no idea how this was done, which is why I need eyes on the site." The Voice answers. Looks like Fate is stepping up its game. "What about the link between the Hero''s family and the militia? What came out of that?" I press on. "I can confirm that the militia was receiving instructions from the Hero''s family, specifically Nicholas von Amsterg and his agents. It appears that several years back, a family friend of the von Amstergs and highly placed official in the Legion, Marshal Yvonne St Clair, approached Nicholas with the offer of helping him bolster his chances at succeeding the current von Amsterg patriarch." A picture of a young girl barely in her teens dressed in the Gothic Lolita style appears on the screen of the laptop. Pale, porcelain like skin topped with flowing green hair. Her blood red eyes stare hungrily at me. "A piece of jail bait. Who is a marshal. Please don''t tell me that she is a thousand year old demon in the body of a barely but probably not legal girl." I say. The Voice chuckles, "Marshal St Clair is a one thousand five hundred year old vampire in the body of an absolutely not legal girl. Jokes aside, Marshal St Clair is one of the strongest existences in the world. She has very cleverly taken advantage of the fact that although her vampiric condition prevents her from physically maturing, it has also allowed her spirit core to grow without limit. You can guess how powerful more than a thousand years of core development has made her." I whistle, "So Nicky has a real powerhouse backing his claim then. That means the Legion has already decided on the successor?" "Not necessarily." The Voice responds, "From what I can gather, Marshal St Clair has been quietly recruiting for the militia behind the Legion''s back. Both she and Nicholas have also been very careful to conceal the true size and mission of the militia from Gustav. All this caution would be not be needed if the Legion had already come down on Nicholas'' side. There is also one very unusual fact about the militia that both Marshal St Clair and Nicholas have been hiding." Oh? Whatever could that be?This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. "Officially, funding for the militia comes from a cabal of wealthy businessmen that has been routed through an off shore company. However, this is merely the icing on the top of an elaborate deception. I have traced the militia''s money trail and it took me from Panama to the Cayman Islands and to the new colony up in Antarctica. It was only there I managed to track down where all the money actually came from." The Voice rumbles. "Don''t keep me in suspense here." I prompt The Voice to continue. "Every single cent of the militia''s funding originated from The City." The Voice rasps, "More specifically, the funds were siphoned from a bank account owned by the urban redevelopment corporation involved with the Six Trees District. The district that was just taken over by the Host." I blink in surprise, "A demon PMC is being bankrolled by Host money? But why? Is the Host sticking its oar in the Hero''s family feud as well?" "I do not know. That question is something the money trail cannot answer." The Voice rasps, "Until we find a way to acquire a source connected with the urban redevelopment project, I am afraid that all we can manage is speculation." I rub my temples. This is getting way more complicated than I thought it would be. What happened to the days when all you needed to do was to march to the demon king''s castle and whack that asshole? All the players in this world are hiding in the shadows or using proxies. Was there even a convenient demon king castle lying about? "Yeah, I get the picture, more or less." I tell The Voice wearily, "Lets just deal with what is in front of us for now." ... So when morning rolled around once more, I left the apartment to find the black cab already waiting for me just outside. The cab''s interior was packed to the brim with masses of cardboard boxes, no doubt holding the drones The Voice was talking about. After managing to squeeze myself into the cab, the cab''s engine sputtered as it sluggishly crawled its way out of the campus, burdened by the weight of all the drones. The cab makes its way through the streets of the Dreaming Spires District, finally turning into a cul de sac located behind a pair of apartment blocks. Sitting unobtrusively at the cul de sac was one of those inclinators with its shutter sealed tight. The Voice stops the cab right in front of the shutter and opens the cab''s glove compartment, revealing an unmarked key card within. "Use the key card on the slot at the shutter." The Voice instructs, "This will unlock the code box below the slot. Then enter any random combination of seven keys. I will do the rest." Alright. Sounds simple enough. I climb out of the cab and swipe the key card in the slot available. Directly beneath it is a large metal box protruding from the inclinator''s frame. The light built into the box turns green and the cover swings open, revealing a keypad bearing several hundred numbers. Whoever built these things wasn''t messing about with security. It would be quite the task to crack the code box, and that''s discounting the time bar gimmick it was programmed with. A loud hum emits from the inclinator and an LED screen mounted above the shutter flicks on, showing the word "WAIT." The Voice had told me that all inclinators require several minutes to power up from their locked down states before being used. With nothing else to do, I examine the map of the sarcophagus The Voice had given me yesterday. The plan was fairly simple. The inclinator would take me down to a hub within the sarcophagus, a point where refugees and supplies were meant to be processed. Under The Voice''s guidance, I would bring the hub''s slumbering systems online without the automated notification going out to The City. The Voice would then take control of the hub and through that, the sarcophagus''s internal monorail network. A monorail shuttle would be summoned to the hub and I would unpack the drones and load them onto the shuttle. The shuttle would be sent on a grand circuit of the entire sarcophagus, dispensing the drones at every stop. While it would probably take a while for the drones to sweep the sarcophagus and turn up something useful, this plan had the advantage of turning control of the monorail over to The Voice. Anybody attempting to use it would immediately be noticed. The moment the militia tried to move the mystery mcguffin out of the sarcophagus, we would know and be right on top of them. The inclinator finally completes its power up sequence and the LED screen switches to "READY". The shutters open with a roar and The Voice drives the cab into the inclinator''s maw. Stagnant air fills my lungs as unseen motors growl and we begin out descent into the heart of The City. A Bond, Not Forgotten "Thank you! You have worked hard today!" Celeste smiles happily and gives me a deep bow. I flex my tired arms and smile ruefully back at her. The Administration Department had made an urgent request to the student council to supply as many volunteers they could find to help with the preparations for Kira''s concert. The school had been taken by surprise at the short notice and the workmen they had on hand were completely overwhelmed by the scale of the task. That was the reason why during class this morning, Celeste as class rep had been trying to drum up as many volunteers as possible. The school really needed our help, so I naturally volunteered. I was hoping that Sera could join me as well, but she declined, saying that she had to report in to SOPO headquarters tonight. Surprisingly, Ken offered to chip in, but not as a volunteer. He was currently talking with Mrs Alley, the head of Administration, about using his family''s people as security for the concert. Celeste herself was not strong enough to do any heavy lifting, so she was tasked by Mrs Alley to take inventory. That left me and a few other classmates to help the workmen haul the dismantled sets from the trucks to the main hall where the concert would be held. "No problem class rep," I tell Celeste, "I would not have abandoned you with all this work. What''s up with Mrs Alley anyway? She looks like she could bite someone''s head off." Celeste replies with a shy smile, "Mrs Alley? She''s upset because of the short notice. You remember that teacher we met the other night? Mr Greer? Apparently all this is his fault." "Mr Greer? Come to think about it, I never see him around during the day. Does he actually work at the Academy?" I ask Celeste. I know Mr Greer has an official position here, but its odd that he is always absent. Celeste leans in conspiratorially and whispers, "The rumor floating around the student council is that Mr Greer has powerful friends at the Academy, and Mrs Alley was forced to hire him. Since he knows that Mrs Alley cannot fire him anyway, he basically does whatever he likes and does not show up for work." Is that how it is? No wonder I got that weird vibe from Mr Greer. He''s not a professional teacher and not bothering to present himself as one either. Celeste makes a circular motion with her finger, continuing, "All this rush was caused by Mr Greer ordering the delivery of the materials at short notice and rushing the concert to be held quickly. Mr Trietel is really unhappy but he was badgered into going along by Mr Greer. After setting such a tight schedule, Mr Greer just dumped everything onto Mrs Alley''s lap and disappeared again. No one has seen him for the past few days." "That''s pretty irresponsible." I frown, "Will things really be alright like this?" The smile on Celeste''s face returns and she says cheerfully, "It will be tough, but with everyone''s help, we can do it! And no one has worked harder than Tensei. I am really grateful you came because I asked." Celeste suddenly grabs my hands with hers and squeezes them tight. "I still have things to do here. Goodnight Tensei." "Goodnight. See you tomorrow." I reply. .... I walk back to my room at the dorms, enjoying the night air. Whew. I going to have to fix myself a big dinner after all that work. Is there still time to hit the store? I breath catches. A sudden shift in the pressure around me. I quickly drop and roll as a pebble whizzes above, barely missing my head. The pebble drills into a nearby tree, wedging itself deep into the bark. Getting back up to my feet, I enter a fighting stance and focus my spirit. I extend my senses, probing the shadows around me. Who could it be? Assassins sent by my family? I allow my spirituality to flow through every part of my body, hardening the skin and bones. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. A blurred figure emerges from the darkness and rushes towards me, clawed hand slashing towards my neck. My left hand snaps out in a block, deflecting the attack, while my right makes a jab. The figure twists like the wind, easily avoiding my counterattack. The claw smoothly retracts and flies outwards towards me again, this time aiming for my crotch. I lift my right leg up in a block and the claw strikes my knee, drawing sparks. I send my spirit surging through my arms. The power concentrates at the tips my fingers and they extend and sharpen into claws of my own. I then surge my core, moving my spiritual energy as I had been taught. I mentally mouth the casting mantra. The weakest tide can wear down even the strongest mountain. The tide goes in, the tide goes out. Attack and retreat. Wear your opponent down. The Relentless Tide. My body rushes forward like a wave and I swing at my opponent. The figure disdainfully bats aside my attacks and aims any claw strike at my neck. Before it can land, my body is pulled backwards by the force of my spell, and the attack hits nothing but empty space. Gathering up my strength, I surge forward again with another attack which slams squarely into a block made by my opponent. I hear a grunt of surprise and my opponent takes a few steps back. Time to take you down. I gather my energy one more time as my body retreats and bolt forward in a final explosive rush. The figure stands it ground this time and flexes its claws. We both lash out at the same time, meeting strength for strength. Then my whole world goes upside down and I am sent rolling in the grass. The clawed hand descends towards my head, my opponent victorious. I shut my eyes and feel ... ... a head pat? ... "Master, what are you doing here?" I ask after getting back up on my feet. A pretty red head with cat eyes and cropped hair stands before me, dressed in a casual khaki outfit. The claws on her hands retract and fade away as she brushes off the grass that had been scattered on my clothes. "I had to punish my bad student for leading an innocent girl on back at the school." Master responds as she adjusts my clothes. She wags a finger at me accusingly, "If you asked her to jump into bed with you I am sure she would have. Are you willing to take responsibility for that poor girl Tensei?" "What you mean Celeste? You were there as well Master?" I ask excitedly. This was the first time I had seen Master in years ever since leaving Uncle''s home. Rose told me she left Uncle''s place as well. What is Master doing here? Master flicks me on the forehead, "Answer the question." "Well, of course I would take responsibility! If things went that far of course ..." my voice trails off as I rub the back off my head in embarrassment. I was not leading Celeste on, was I? How did Master get that impression? Master laughs and nudges me in the ribs, "Just joking, bad student of mine. So how is life treating you?" "Oh, not too bad. I live much more freely without Uncle''s family around and the Naibergs are nice people. Soon I will be independent as well, so I cannot really complain." I say. Master looks at me strangely for a moment before asking, "The Naibergs? They have a daughter right?" I nod happily and start telling Master about my time living with Sera and how we both enrolled in the Academy together. Master is silent for a moment before asking, "After you graduate, where will you go? Have you thought about that?" I shake my head, "Not really. But I want to have the chance to do my own thing, you know?" Master then looks straight at me and queries, "What about Rose?" "I will always support her of course, no matter what her choices are." I reply firmly. Master does not break her gaze on me and finally laughs, "I suppose that''s the best answer possible. Sorry about getting all weird like that." "So what is going on with you Master? I heard from Rose you are body guarding a rich family right?" I say. Master takes a deep breath and responds, "Actually that''s why I am here in The City. My employer is here on business and because of a personal tragedy. It got me thinking you know, that we can never take something for granted, how things can change so quickly." "What happened?" I ask. Master shakes her head, "Sorry. Client confidentiality. And I didn''t mean to burden you with my own musings. Sorry about that as well. But at least you have grown stronger since we last trained. Did you manage to solve the issue with your spirit core?" I shake my head, "Nah. It just grew stronger on its own again." Both of us stand side by side admiring the moon suspended in the cloudless sky. Music sounds from the distance as the orchestra begins yet another set of last minute rehearsals. "Tensei, Master has a lesson she wants to teach you." Master says dreamily to me. I turn to look at her as she stands in the moonlight, a gentle smile playing on her face. "Yes Master?" I murmur awestruck. Was Master always this beautiful? Master grasps both my hands in hers and we begin moving together in tune with the music, "A man must know how to dance. If not, how are you going to show off at your wedding?" And so the two of us danced the night away, beneath the moon. The Meaning of Heroism Fly me to the moooon .... Let me play among the stars ... I sing in my best voice as I finish off a can of beer and toss it into the sea. I belch before continuing the song. In other words please be truuuuue ... In other words I love yoooou .... "You were off tune and got most of the lyrics wrong. Three out of ten." The Voice rasps. I give the cab parked by the side of the road the finger as I reach into the convenience store bag placed on the passenger seat and grab another beer. Cracking the beer open, I take a swig before replying to The Voice, "Cut me some slack here. You had me working in the hub several days straight loading drones onto the monorail. I am more than entitled to break." After we had reactivated the hub, I began unpacking the drones, small spider-like things, from the boxes and loading them onto the monorail as instructed by The Voice. That was not the difficult part. The difficult part was The Voice kept spawning additional boxes in the cab. Whenever I finished unloading one set of drones, The Voice would tell me to return to the cab and I would find it packed to the brim with boxes once more. This kept going on for hours and hours until The Voice told me where the bathroom in the hub was and that it had spawned a sleeping bag and the usual unappetizing dinner for me in the cab''s boot. Hours turned to days as I labored under the depths of The City and The Voice spread the drones throughout the sarcophagus. We finally stopped when The Voice decided that it had enough drones to thoroughly sweep the sarcophagus from top to bottom. By the time we emerged from the inclinator top side, it was already night. As a concession, The Voice allowed me to use the cab as I wished for the night. The first thing I did was to stop by a convenience store to buy beer. The second thing was to take the cab back to the side road where The Voice had rescued me from drowning. There I could drink, enjoy the night breeze and admire the full moon in peace. It also gave me a private moment to speak to The Voice that was not in the apartment. I didn''t want to go back being cooped indoors so soon and I needed to clear up some questions that had been gnawing at me ever since I finished reading the profiles of the Hero and the Heroines The Voice had prepared for me. The conundrum I was facing was this, nowhere does it state in those profiles an actual threat for the Hero and Heroines to fight. True, the information kept going on and on about the succession war that would wrack the Hero''s family, but that did not answer the fundamental question, how was the Hero meant to save the world? Which Heroine''s route was he supposed to follow? What was the Hero''s actual destiny? I kept turning these questions over in my head during my time in the hub, but came to no conclusions. It was time to get some answers from the source. "So, I have questions about the Hero." I begin. The Voice grunts in acknowledgement. "Which Heroine is the Hero supposed to get together with? I am assuming that there is one true path that will save the world here, right?" I ask. Please don''t say the Idol. Please don''t say the Idol. The Voice rumbles, "All of them. I need the Hero to achieve the harem end." What? Didn''t you get the memo Voice? The memo that said that one of the Heroines wants to murder the Hero? "Uh, the last I checked, one of the Heroines wanted to kill our man of the hour." I reply. The Voice chuckles, "Indeed. So how is that inconsistent with the harem end?"Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The Voice is getting all mysterious again, teasing at something. I take another swig of beer and think things over once more. But nothing comes to mind. I''m hitting a dead end here. "How is the Hero supposed to defeat the big bad if he''s dead?" I retort, "Your question makes no sense at all." The Voice rumbles patiently, "Did the files ever mention any world ending menace the Hero needed to defeat?" No. There was no such threat mentioned. The entire affair revolves around the succession of the von Amsterg family. There is literally no demon lord on this world for the Hero to whack. What is The Voice''s agenda here? I am missing something, something obvious. But what is it? The world will end because of nuclear war, not because of a demon king. So the Hero needs to stop the cause of this nuclear war? But how is getting killed by one of the Heroines fulfilling his destiny? The Voice noticing I am having trouble begins to explain, "Tell me Transmigrator, which would be more interesting to you, a million dollars or half a million dollars?" Well, the cool million obviously. The Voice continues, "Now which would be more interesting, half a million dollars or that half a million split three ways?" The half a million, duh. What are you getting at Voice? The Voice rasps, "What do harems produce?" Drama. And children. I think I know what you are hinting at. You cannot be serious. The Voice concludes triumphantly, "Can a deceased master of the harem sort out the succession of his estate?" No way. Was this your plan all along Voice? To set the Hero and his descendants up for failure? The Voice elaborates, "The von Amsterg territory is a prime piece in the European theater. Gustav von Amsterg may rule in the name of the Legion, but the reality is that his realm is largely self-governing. Nor does it provide much in the way of troops and money to the Legion as a whole. That is the reason why the P5 and the Host have allowed him to govern unmolested." The Voice takes a breath before continuing, "All that will change if von Amsterg territory is absorbed into any of the three factions'' holdings. Such an act will fundamentally change the entire global balance of power. Which is the reason why everyone is paying so much attention to who Gustav''s heir will be. There are no good solutions to this succession dispute. As things stand, it is impossible to achieve a resolution that satisfies everyone." "The P5 have the most to lose in this matter. If the dispute is resolved in favor of either the Host or the Legion, the P5 will lose their role as spoiler in international relations. They will simply become too insignificant to be worth dealing with. Under these circumstances, the P5 will be forced to rely even more heavily on their nuclear arsenal to maintain their place in the world." "Under pressure from both the Legion and the Host, the P5 will conclude that they will have to use their nuclear weapons to restore parity before they degenerate into vassal states. It will be a war of annihilation." "If the P5 wins in the succession dispute, the result will be no different. Neither the Legion or Host will acknowledge such a loss and conflict will flare up, eventually culminating in the exact same outcome." "The only way to prevent Armageddon is to break apart the von Amsterg territory into small, manageable pieces where all three factions can reasonably make gains and exercise influence. As long as everyone stands to profit together, the war of annihilation will not take place and all attention will be on jockeying for position in the rivaling courts that spring up in von Amsterg territory." "This is where the Hero and the Heroines come into play. Each of the Heroines represent one of the factions, giving them a ready means of influencing the von Amsterg territory. The Hero already has a legitimate claim as the von Amsterg heir. Once the Hero has impregnated all three Heroines, the Idol will terminate him in secret, throwing the succession into disarray. The three factions will move in, backing their respective contenders as the true successor of the territory." Devious. I''m grateful that The Voice does not see me as its enemy. "I get the rough idea so far," I say, "but wouldn''t your plan be a spur for even more conflict? With no true heir, the Heroines and their children would be at each other''s throats." "Yes. However, neither the P5, the Legion nor the Host will see this as a conflict that impacts their core interests. The Heroines may be individually powerful, but they do not have the means of destroying the world. The troika will pump weapons and money into the von Amsterg territory and the Heroines will fight in a grinding proxy war that will never end. The bloodletting will erode the base of Fate''s power and then, I will make my move." The Voice rumbles. I see. It all makes sense now. I was just looking at things from the wrong perspective. "Pretty dick move to refer to Tensei as the "Hero" though." I reply. The Voice laughs, "Oh, but he is a Hero. Only an unsung one. After all, by his sacrifice, he will save the world." Final Preparations "Of course, all this is incumbent on the Hero managing to inherit Abe von Amsterg''s share of the realm at the very least. Preferably, Nicholas von Amsterg would be removed from the equation as well, if possible." The Voice says, "It is also the reason why Fate has stepped up its activity. Fate seeks to turn events from their proper course and doom this world to darkness." "Unlike your plan of dooming the world to a never ending proxy war between three great powers." I remark dryly. Please stop eating your own bullshit Voice, I always was of the impression that you were more self-aware than that. "Anyway, I hope you don''t expect me to stick around for your whole plan to come together." I grumble, "I doubt my body back in my own dimension can wait for that long." The Voice rasps, "There will be no need for that. Plans like these have momentum of their own. Once we push things far enough, Fate will not be able to interfere even if it wanted to. Once things have progressed to that stage, I will be able to send you on your way. Also, time runs differently between our two worlds, so do not worry about missing too much time back in your home dimension." "If you say so." I mumble. I had no way of ascertaining the truth of The Voice''s claims. I could only hope that The Voice was acting in good faith. I down the last of the beer in one gulp and pitch the empty can out into the sea. The can bobs in the water before being swallowed up by the surf. The night wind blows again and I hold myself tight. "Its getting cold." I murmur, walking back to the cab. "The changing of the seasons." The Voice rumbles meditatively, "The snow will be here soon." The cab''s engine fires up and we drive off into the darkness. .... "Marshal." the handsome man bows deferentially at the young girl in a Gothic Lolita outfit sitting at the head of the table. Her crimson eyes take in the man before her. Bronzed skin, sharp features and hard well defined muscles that are accentuated by an expensive suit. A head of well groomed dirty blond hair. Blue piercing eyes. This may be the manor owned by the von Amstergs, but courtesy and power compel its master to bow. Especially to one as powerful as his guest.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. The girl nods, "Rise, young master Nicholas. How go your preparations for the operation?" Nicholas rises to his feet, his gaze respectfully cast downwards, "Marshal, I have briefed all the troops that you have brought me and transport to the Academy has been arranged. I do not wish to take any chances though, is there any chance more troops could be made available before we commit?" Marshal St Clair shakes her head, "The eyes of the enemy have already been drawn to our preparations. To wait any further would be to invite disaster." "Respectfully Marshal, I disagree." Nicholas answers, "Your man at the Academy has shared his concerns with me, but I see no harm in a delay. If SOPO was really aware of what is going on, they would have swooped in by now. The very fact Trietel remains free is proof that all they have are suspicions, nothing else." "Its not SOPO I am worried about." St Clair shakes her head again, her fingers playing with an amulet hanging from her neck. An amulet portraying a featureless woman, partially wrapped in red thread. "The true goddess had granted me a vision while I slept, Nicholas." St Clair says, "The Tyrant. It knows." Nicholas nods, face tense. He had failed to fully heed the warnings of the goddess regarding the warehouse, merely making a token effort to increase the security there. And now Salvation had been lost. Perhaps never to be regained. "Salvation. How is its recovery progressing?" Nicholas asks. "Not well," St Clair replies with a frown, "The Cathedral does not have the facilities to repair the extensive damage caused by the explosion. Our brothers also report of a small army of drones sweeping the sarcophagus, no doubt the eyes and ears of the Tyrant. They cannot move Salvation to a more suitable location." "The Professor will find a way, he always does." Nicholas consoles. "I hope so, but we cannot just count on Salvation. The Tyrant''s noose tightens around all our necks as time passes. Waiting is a luxury we may not be able to afford." St Clair says. Nicholas slams his fist on the ground seething with anger, "Why? Why are there people who would support their own slavery? Can''t they see what the Tyrant represents?" "Just as we serve the goddess in our fight for freedom, the Tyrant has servants of its own. There are men in this world who would willingly aid in the oppression of others for a small slice of power and influence." St Clair ruminates, "We cannot give these men another opportunity to strike. The damage done from the warehouse attack has already cost us dearly." Nicholas clenches his right hand by his breast and bows once more, "As you say Marshal, so shall it be done. I shall join the troops myself and ensure the success of the mission." St Clair smiles gently, "Good. I will leave the matter in your hands then. When you have completed the raid, return here to the manor. I will summon the helicopter from the Standart to take us to safety." A motion of dismissal is made with her hand, "Now leave, I wish to pray for your success." Nicholas draws himself up to his full height, declaring in a voice full of spirit, "Tomorrow, the goddess shall bear witness to our triumph." "And the world will finally know freedom." An Unwilling Partnership I walk into Alley''s office the first thing in the morning unannounced carrying a pair of massive suitcases. Alley''s face is the picture of neutrality but I see her hands reflexively clench into fists. I drop both suitcases on the floor with a thump and slump into my usual chair with a sigh of relief. Alley''s attitude towards me was eventually going to be a problem. The Voice may have simply dismissed Alley as someone it had effectively cowed into submission, but that dismissive attitude was born from a certain lack of perspective. The Voice was not human, and therefore could not judge Alley by human standards. As the man on the ground, the signs were incredibly clear to my mind. It was only a matter of time before Alley lashed out, either by withdrawing her cooperation or outright betraying me. That was one of the reasons for my visit this morning. I needed Alley to become an active partner in this enterprise. I needed her to get her hands dirty so that she could not back out later. "Are the preparations for the concert complete?" I ask without preamble. Alley glares and begins to complain, but I cut her off. "Yes or no?" I snap. Have to establish dominance so Alley cannot question me. Get her to believe that I am the one in charge here. Alley is taken aback by my attitude and nods. I take out an envelope of photos from my jacket and spread them on Alley''s table. I start gesturing at the photos while talking to her. "You have invited Rose von Amsterg as a VIP guest to the concert, yes?" I tap one of the photos on the table, "Our sources show that a large number of armed men have arrived at the von Amsterg manor. Our mutual friend believes that they have been hired by Nicholas von Amsterg to drag his sister back home." That was merely speculation on my part, but the timing of the arrival of those goons combined with what The Voice had been saying about Fate planning some kind of attack made the whole affair seem really likely in my opinion. Alley begins to look through the photos I had presented to her. "How in the world did you get these?" she asks, completely dumbfounded. "Aerial surveillance and security cam footage from the manor itself." I shrug in reply. Alley visibly blanches when she hears that. The implication is clear, "our mutual friend" has more resources and contacts than she had first assumed. Alley was not being subjected to a two bit blackmail scheme, but had been pulled into a conspiracy way out of her depth. That was the impression I wanted to give at least. Now to drive the point home. I heft one of the suitcases up from the floor and drop it on Alley''s table. The suitcase is unzipped and opened to display its contents. Several standard issue ORPO stun batons. Alley''s jaw completely drops, overwhelmed by the sight. This was probably not how she expected her day to begin. I explain, "Our mutual friend has agreed to contribute to the security of the concert. We have managed to negotiate the release of surplus ORPO equipment to the Academy. You will find the letter of confirmation and a user''s manual in the suitcase along with the batons. Equip all members of campus security and teachers that are on duty tonight at the concert."Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. All bull of course. The batons and documentation had been spawned by The Voice back at the apartment for the second reason why I had stopped by to chat with Alley. I wanted to arm the Academy''s faculty against any attack mounted by Fate. Alley on her part just stares at the batons, completely speechless. I remove the suitcase of batons and place the second suitcase on the table. I open it to reveal several sets of protective ear wear meant to block noise. A little something I had asked The Voice to spawn as a precaution against Trietel''s antics. I may be immune to the power of music, but experience had shown that Trietel could get an entire crowd eating out of his hands with the right song. "Pass these to the teachers and campus security as well." I instruct Alley, "I don''t want them distracted by the show and dropping the ball. Any questions so far?" Alley finally manages to rouse herself from her shock and exclaims, "Yes! What is all this? What in the world is going on?" "Just a precaution against the worst from happening." I say reassuringly, "If nothing happens, then great. But if something does, at least you guys won''t be caught completely flat footed." Alley quickly lowers her voice to avoid anyone hearing our conversation and hisses at me, "What have you been doing behind my back, Greer? What have you gotten all of us into?" I narrow my eyes and reprimand Alley, "You already got yourselves involved when you allowed that SOPO inspector to hang around here. Its too late to back out now." More nonsense of course, but Alley has no way of proving otherwise. "How did you know..." Alley blurts out before holding her head in her hands, "Never mind, I should have realized that sooner or later that decision would come back to haunt us." I continue giving my instructions, "Tonight I will be patrolling the campus. If I notice anything or get any updates from our mutual friend, I will message you on your mobile. Always keep it with you, understand?" "You can''t expect me to show up tonight! Especially after knowing all this!" Alley says in a strained voice. I just glare at her remorselessly. The Voice''s previous threats against her work their magic and Alley backs down, agreeing wordlessly to my directions. As I get up to leave, Alley asks, "Who are you really?" I don''t bother to reply. ... "There is a saying from your world," The Voice rasps, "Never split the party. Are you sure what you are doing is wise?" I was lurking in the darkness outside the main building, watching the guests arrive for the concert. Some of the guests were really swank, dressed to the nines, riding in luxury cars. The Academy''s reputation as the school for the rich and well-connected looked to be well deserved. I doubt that any of the students here would ever want for money. "Didn''t you read the guest list? You tell me." I whisper in reply. "I fail to see the issue. Mr Gallant''s sister may be in attendance as a VIP, but is that truly a good enough reason stay out here and not at the concert itself? You could just hide among the crowd." The Voice questions. "Sure it is. Especially when I have a literal piece of his soul lodged in me. Speaking of which, have you made any headway regarding this particular problem?" I shoot back. The Voice rumbles, "Unfortunately no. Souls were never my area of expertise and your condition is already unusual in itself." Even more reason not to go into the hall then. Gallant''s soul might start agitating so strongly for a reunion that I lose control over the body. The sister might spot me and blow the entire Greer identity out of the water. Or it might be some other form of entrapment planned by Fate. After almost getting assassinated, I was not inclined to take any chances. I change the topic while checking my baton and stun gun, "Is the Hero and Brocon at the concert as well?" The Voice responds, "Yes. Heroine von Amsterg was invited as a VIP as you know. The Hero is helping out backstage on the request of a classmate. Nothing unusual going on inside the hall so far." The last of the guests arrive and the ushers retreat back into the building. I lean against a wall and breathe out a cloud of fog. Its really getting cold quickly. Does it snow in The City? My idle thoughts are interrupted by The Voice, "Five SUVs are departing from the von Amsterg manor. Nicholas is making his move." Showtime 5 SUVs? That''s like how many, around 40 goons? Sweat starts to bead my brow. Fate is certainly escalating hard and fast. "I estimate that Nicholas and his strike team will arrive at the campus in roughly 15 minutes and have informed Mrs Alley accordingly." The Voice reports, "What will you do, Transmigrator?" Get your head back in the game man, or you just might lose it. "What are the chances of the concert goers against Nicholas without my intervention?" I ask. The Voice takes a moment to consider before replying, "On paper, Nicholas is not likely to succeed. Mrs Alley has followed your instructions and armed the available teachers and campus security. Mr Matsui is present and has contributed several of his own enforcers. Inspector Scott stands ready for action. Mr Gallant''s sister and her powerful bodyguard will be able to contribute to any fight. Finally, the Hero and all three Heroines are in attendance at the concert. This is a force that Nicholas will find very difficult to beat." "I sense a ''but'' coming." I remark dourly. The Voice rasps, "Good guess Transmigrator. If Trietel intervenes in favor of Nicholas, the picture changes entirely. I have analyzed Trietel''s performances during the rehearsals and have concluded that he is capable of directly attacking the spirit. A rare skill, one no doubt granted by Fate. Out of all our allies present, only Mrs Alley and the team she is leading will be able to resist Trietel''s magic, thanks to your preparations. Unfortunately, Mrs Alley and her team also possess the weakest combat strength in comparison to everyone else present." I hiss in alarm, "You''re saying that Trietel can take down everyone else without a fight?" "No," The Voice replies, "but he will be able to suppress or control the crowd, allowing Nicholas and his strike team to defeat most of our allies at their leisure. Once that is done, Mrs Alley will be thoroughly overwhelmed. We cannot allow that to happen Transmigrator." "Any chances that Trietel is not working for Nicholas?" I plead, grasping at straws. The Voice laughs mirthlessly, "With the amount of power Fate is pouring into this scenario right now? Almost zero." No kidding. It looks like I''ll have to crash this party, regardless of the risk. "Alright. This is what I''ll do." I tell The Voice, "When Nicholas and his gang gets here, I''ll hide and let them launch their attack against the concert. Once that happens, I''ll hit them from the rear. Hammer and anvil. Boom." "Not looking to save the day by yourself, Transmigrator?" The Voice rumbles in amusement. "That''s the Hero''s job. Not looking to put him out of work." I grunt as my figure fades back into the darkness. .... The SUVs charge into the campus at high speed and skid to a stop in front of the main building. Men in suits begin to file out of the vehicles in a quick rehearsed fashion. Its clear that they are from the same group that I had tangled with so many times in the past. So this pretty much confirms it, Nicholas is the one behind the militia. The big difference this time is that the militiamen are not just carrying swords. All of the militiamen are wearing gas masks, making them almost indistinguishable from each other. More worryingly is the fact that a few of the goons are also carrying what appear to be grenade launchers of some sort. Things are getting too hot and nasty for my taste. "What''s up with those launcher thingies?" I whisper to The Voice urgently. The Voice rasps, "Single shot break loading grenade launchers. Nicholas has brought along tear gas grenades to subdue the concert goers. Between the tear gas and Trietel, our allies will not last long."If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Damn it. As the strike team begins to storm the building, I follow behind, taking care to remain hidden. The strike team marches relentlessly towards the main hall, the sound of the power drill and howler monkey growing louder and louder in my ears. Trietel has already started working his magic then. The team stops at the doors of the hall. The militiamen carrying the teargas move up and crack the door ajar before launching their grenades into the crowd. At that same moment, the screeching of the howler monkey is suddenly cut off and the only thing continuing to play is the power drill''s greatest hits. Cries of confusion and distress come from the hall, but they are oddly lethargic and listless. The drone of the power drill becomes increasingly oppressive, seemingly muffling the noise that the crowd is making. One of the militiamen peeks into the hall and turns around to give his comrades the thumbs up. At this signal, the entire strike team draw their swords and rush into the hall, leaving behind one of their number to guard the entrance. "The Idol has been disabled by Trietel." The Voice informs me, "The militia are now carving their way through Mr Matsui''s enforcers." Its time for me to act. I draw the stun gun and calmly walk towards the remaining militiaman at the entrance. He immediately spots me and predictably starts spazzing out ineffectually. I fire both sets of prongs from the stun gun straight at the militiaman and his body thrashes about convulsing. I follow up by smacking him repeatedly in the head with the baton. Once I am sure that my opponent is down for the count, I strip the gas mask from his face and put it on before venturing into the hall itself. Slaughter is what greets my eyes. The enforcers that delinquent brought are mostly wounded or dying, the ground slick with their blood. The previous cries of fear from the crowd have mellowed to an indifferent grumble as they take in the bloodshed happening before them. A few members of the audience lie slumped on the ground, impotently complaining about the tear gas. The surviving enforcers clumsily back off in an attempt to regroup but they look like they are having trouble staying awake and on their feet, never mind fighting off the strike team. Casting my eyes on the stage, I see Trietel continuing to conduct the orchestra while wearing a gas mask of his own. The Idol lies unconscious at his feet while the orchestra continues to play at the incitement of Trietel''s magic, eyes red and gasping in discomfort from the gas. The militia are taken by surprise by a sudden charge mounted by the teachers and campus security. They are forced to give ground to the staff, stumbling backwards, but it does not last. Soon, the blades of the militia begin reaping their toll against the Academy staff and the militia presses forward once again. I don''t see Alley anywhere. She must have cut and run. Her colleagues will do the same if the casualties continue to mount. My course of action is clear. I need to get to Trietel and disrupt whatever he is doing, bringing the rest of my allies back into play. I activate the core and wade into the rear of the militia, driving my baton unerringly into their heads. The heaving mass of bodies parts before me like the sea and I carve a path through it, not bothering with the stragglers. Taking out Trietel comes first. The militia finally gets wise to the threat I pose and a group of them throw themselves against me. But they are still caught off balance between me and the Academy staff and sandwiched between the two of us, they fall easily to my baton''s pummeling blows. Just need to keep pushing forward. Then all of a sudden, the power drill mercifully stops. The enforcers immediately regain their senses and throw themselves into the fray. I see the blaze of magic as Big Tits summons her oversize sword and starts cleaning house. I make one more push and I am through the crowd. Did the Hero deal with Trietel? What I see on the stage is a completely different story. Alley, the last person I expected, is wrestling with Trietel on the stage, trying to subdue him. Trietel responds by kneeing Alley hard in the stomach, causing her double up and collapse. But the damage has already been done. With Trietel''s spell broken, the orchestra scatters in panic and my allies are mounting their counterattack. Trietel looks around briefly before jumping off the stage and vanishing into the combined mass of the crowd and gas. I reach the stage and carry both Alley and the Idol backstage. Both of them should be able to recover in safety here. Before I am about to leave, I hear a gasp from Alley as she manages to come to her senses. "I thought that you would have run off by now." I remark. Alley grimaces in pain, "Don''t think I wasn''t considering it. I may not be a saint, but I take my responsibilities seriously. And I have a responsibility to all the guests here after getting them involved in whatever you pulled me into." That''s surprisingly noble actually. I realize that after all my time interacting with her, I never bothered to actually get to know the person behind the blackmail target. "You OK there?" I ask. Alley waves me off, "Go back to whatever you came here to do. I''ll be fine. Kira will also be safe with me here." The Voice suddenly barks in alarm as I am heading back to the stage, "Transmigrator, the Hero has failed to protect Heroine von Amsterg. I am bringing the cab over right now. Return to the entrance of the main building at once." From the dungeon to the mire. I break into a run and hope we are not too late. A Reunion I had just completed the assignments that Celeste had set for me and was leaving the backstage area with her when the screams from the crowd began. As gas started to fill the hall, Kira''s singing suddenly stops and the atmosphere becomes overwhelmingly stifling. My eyelids start to droop and in my mind''s eye, I see Mr Trietel conducting the orchestra, his baton moving in a hypnotic fashion. The orchestra plays on, but the music has turned harsh, grating. The music steadily degenerates into a loud grinding noise, similar to a malfunctioning piece of machinery. Whatever affliction I am suffering from, its not unique to me. Celeste, who is by my side, slumps against a wall and moans weakly. I feel the music physically press against me like a millstone and it takes all my strength to remain standing. I force my eyes open and see gas mask wearing men surge through the entrance brandishing swords. I turn to the stage and my heart sinks when I see Kira lying unconscious at the feet of a gas masked Trietel, who continues conducting the orchestra without a care in the world. An attack against the Academy. Assisted by one of the teachers. Ken''s family members move to defend the crowd, but its no use. Whatever Trietel is doing has affected them as well. I turn my eyes aside as the masked men start cutting down Ken''s family. Its too painful to watch. How could anyone be so cruel? Is there anything I can do to stop this massacre? I have to stop Trietel. Its the only way everyone here will have a fighting chance, a chance to survive. With a grunt of exertion, I begin to circulate my spirit, easing the sense of constriction that had been overwhelming me just a few moments earlier. I trudge towards the stage, moving as quickly as I can in my current condition. I hear a pained curse uttered by a familiar sounding voice. Turning my head in the direction of voice, I find that Ken has drawn alongside me, his face frozen in an expression that is equal amounts of both dismay and determination. Ken acknowledges me with a nod and gestures with his chin towards Trietel who is still on stage, completely unaware of the two of us. Ken had clearly come to the same conclusion as I did. Trietel must be taken down, and quickly. As we steadily draw closer towards the stage, Trietel''s gaze eventually drifts over us. He calmly turns to face Ken and I, waiting for us to approach him. "Bastard." Ken mutters as I feel the pressure around him shift. Both of us flare our spirituality at the same time and kick off the ground, charging the stage in unison. Trietel responds by sharply slashing his conductor''s baton in my direction. The grinding noise in resounding in my mind explodes in a shower of pain and my legs abruptly lose all feeling and give way, sending me toppling to the ground. Ken takes a flying leap onto the stage, his fists raised to strike. Trietel does not bother to defend himself and instead slashes the baton in Ken''s direction. Ken''s face wrenches into an expression of pure pain and his arms drop uselessly to his side. Trietel then walks calmly towards Ken and jabs the baton into Ken''s torso, sending Ken flying off the stage and into the panicking crowd. The music from the orchestra wavers for a brief moment and I sigh in relief as I regain feeling to my legs and the pain in my mind lifts. But Trietel immediately turns his attention back to the orchestra and resumes his role as conductor. The grinding noise descends upon me again like a vice, but at least I can still use my legs. I pick myself up just in time to be surrounded by a group of the masked men. I don''t need to see their faces to know what they are here to do. Their body language says everything. These men have been ordered to kill me. Under the pressure of Trietel''s magic, my spirit moves sluggishly as I manifest my claws and toughen my body. The masked men level their swords at me, moving in to attack. I flare my power and take a slash at one of my attackers, blood staining the floor as he stumbles backwards. I quickly dodge the flashing swords coming my way and lash out again, splitting open the face of another masked man. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I feel my spirit lose its focus for the briefest moment as the grinding noise reaches another crescendo. My guard drops as I attempt to steady myself. A powerful kick from one my opponents sends me flying off my feet and I land hard on my back. My enemy looms over me, sword ready to plunge through my chest. Then, all of a sudden, the grinding noise abruptly stops and strength returns to my body. I send spirituality surging into my arms up as I bring them back up to block the incoming sword. The sword strikes my arms and sparks fly, but my block manages to hold. I kick the shin of my attacker and he staggers backwards with a muffled shout of pain. Strong hands lift my body up by the armpits. As I regain my footing, Ken gives me a friendly slap in the back as both of us turn our attention back to the fight just in time to see Ms Scott take down the small group of attackers with a series of swings from her blazing spirit sword. Sera rushes past Ms Scott, clearing a path through the crowd for us to escape. Ms Scott turns to look at Ken and myself before indicating that we follow her and Sera to safety. Ken and I fall in without any objections behind Ms Scott and the four of us begin making our way towards the exit. As we near the exit, we see Trietel dragging away a struggling Rose while being escorted out of the hall by the masked men. One of the masked men spots us and begins barking orders to his compatriots. The group splits into two, the bulk of which stations themselves by the door, preventing our further progress while the remainder continues escorting Trietel out of the hall. My throat goes dry as I see Trietel escape. Rose. I have to rescue her! A pair of figures suddenly barrel into the blockade and begin taking apart the masked men. One of them takes a moment to look at me and gives me the thumbs up before getting back to fighting. Its Master. She''s giving us the chance to catch up with Trietel. "Quickly! After them!" Ms Scott urges while pushing through the pandemonium that surrounds us. Fighting back the discomfort caused by the gas, the four of us manage to break through the crowd in hot pursuit. ... We rush down the corridor and make it outside of the building, where we find Trietel shoving a sobbing Rose into the rear of an SUV. The remaining masked men surround the Trietel protectively. One of them steps forward and removes his gas mask. I recognize the face immediately. Nicholas. He is one behind the attack. "Why?" I ask. Nicholas grunts in dissatisfaction, "Still alive? I should have known that your minder would be close by. I have come to take my sister back home where she belongs. If you survive, you know where to find us." With that he makes a gesture to his men before climbing into the driver''s seat of the SUV and peeling off into the night with Trietel and Rose in tow. There is no time to waste words. The four of us immediately clash against the masked men that Nicholas left behind. They go down pathetically easy. I turn to Ms Scott and ask, "Minder? What was Nicholas talking about?" Ms Scott hurriedly searches the bodies of the fallen attackers and fishes out a set of car keys. "No time to explain. Tensei, Ken, both of you stay here. Sera, you''re in charge of protecting them until a SOPO unit arrives." Sera nods and replies, "And yourself Madam?" "I''m going after the kidnappers. The City has been completely wired up with cameras and SOPO sweeps the districts with aerial drones. There is no way that SUV can hide where its going." Ms Scott says as she tests the keys she found on one of the SUVs. So that''s what Nicholas was referring to. Ms Scott is a member of the police, probably sent to protect me? The engine of the SUV roars to life and Ms Scott prepares to leave. I step forward, "I am coming as well. Rose is my family, and family protects each other. I will not let Nicholas get away with this." "No, its too dangerous." Ms Scott dismisses my suggestion as she puts the SUV into gear. I step right in front of the SUV, blocking Ms Scott''s path while giving her a challenging look. Ms Scott snaps, "This is not a game Tensei, now move out of the way." To my surprise, Ken moves up and stands by my side as well. "Those guys disrespected the family. I''ve got to beat some respect out of them. So yeah, I''m coming along with you guys too." I smile in gratitude at Ken''s support and he lightly cuffs me in the head. Sera gives a tired sigh and takes position next to me as well saying, "Madam, as my assignment is to protect these two idiots, it looks like I will need to accompany them to wherever they insist on going." Ms Scott looks at the three of us with a completely bewildered expression before finally breaking into a smile. "Get in." A New Route I run through the panicking crowd and quickly reach the door leading out of the hall where a pair of women are beating the shit out of a crowd of militiamen. Friends of the Hero''s? Who cares about that right now. I''m just grateful that they are there to make my life easier. One of the women casts a spell and jabs her index finger into the torso of a militiaman. The militiaman abruptly keels over, a red stain spreading all over his suit. The woman is then sent reeling backwards as another militiaman rushes up and connects with the butt of his grenade launcher to her head. I extend one hand to steady the woman while the other hand smashes the militiaman''s face in with the baton. I attempt to bring about my free hand to pick up the grenade launcher but the woman holds on to my extended arm with surprising strength, refusing to let go. I got no time to be a gentleman right now lady. I impatiently shake her off and snatch up the weapon before resuming my run back to the entrance of the building. ... By the time I reach the entrance, I find several fallen militiamen littering the environs and two of the SUVs missing. The black cab screeches to a stop in front of me and I climb into the rear passenger area without wasting any time. "I have left your equipment on the seat. Get changed." The Voice says distractedly as the cab is sent bolting out of the campus, "I did not have the time to prepare anything new so you will have to make do with whatever equipment you had used previously." "Mind telling me what''s the rush?" I ask while changing out of my clothes and putting on the ORPO uniform and stab vest, "What in the world happened to Brocon?" The cab hits the highway at top speed and begins darting precisely through the traffic without slowing down. The Voice rasps, "Heroine von Amsterg has been kidnapped by Nicholas and Trietel. They are taking her back to the manor as we speak. The Hero, Heroine Naiberg, Inspector Scott and Mr Matsui are in pursuit. Inspector Scott has also called for reinforcements from SOPO to assist her in storming the manor." "A siege situation?" I question, "Why the rush then? Nicky has nowhere to go once he reaches the manor. The Hero and his buddies will eventually corner Nicky and unceremoniously beat him up. And from what I''ve read, I don''t think Nicky intends to have Brocon killed." The Voice responds, stress evident in its tone, "Fate has set its plan in motion. I have been tracking the constellations at the Crossroads and have determined that this is far more than an attempted assassination attempt on the Hero or a mere kidnapping of Heroine von Amsterg. Fate has created a fork in the Hero''s destiny. The entire attack on the Academy is in reality a divergence point." I notice that the cab has already left the Dreaming Spires District. I am curious as to where this manor is actually located, but I know that now is not the time for trivial questions. We have bigger problems to worry about. "A divergence point?" I ask bewildered while checking the grenade launcher I had taken with me. I open the break and find the weapon loaded with a single tear gas grenade. Not much but it will have to do.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Yes." The Voice explains, "Fate is trying to divert the Hero from his ordained path. To that end, Fate has scripted an entirely new destiny for both the Hero and Heroine von Amsterg. Through this divergence point, it is giving the Hero the opportunity to choose his own destiny so to speak. Depending on the actions taken by the Hero during this scenario, the Hero may be irrevocably hurtled towards this newly drafted shared destiny with Heroine von Amsterg." The Voice pauses before continuing, "The problem is that Fate has rigged the game. The trigger that puts the Hero on this new route is Heroine von Amsterg leaving The City. How she leaves is irrelevant. How long she leaves is also irrelevant. The moment Heroine von Amsterg takes a single step out of The City''s boundary, the new route takes effect and we lose." "New route? How is it different from the one you had planned?" I query. "The Hero will take off in pursuit of Heroine von Amsterg eventually catching up with her back in Berlin. Through their many trials and tribulations together, both Hero and Heroine will realize their true feelings for one another and fall wholeheartedly in love. The Hero will nobly sacrifice his inheritance, allowing Nicholas to become the head of a united House von Amsterg, and elope with the Heroine to the European countryside. There they live out the rest of their days in what I believe is referred to as the ''slow life''." Well, that bull crap is not going to fly for obvious reasons. No way am I going to let any of that happen. The Hero is welcome to his slow life, but only after I''ve gotten my ticket home. "And I suppose that its impossible for the Hero and friends to prevent Brocon from leaving?" I reply. The Voice rasps, "Correct. A helicopter from Marshal St Clair''s private yacht, the Standart, has been ordered to make for the manor in order to spirit Heroine von Amsterg away. I have sabotaged the helicopter, but it is only a matter of time before the Standart''s mechanics repair it. Fate has Marshal St Clair, Nicholas and Trietel to defend the manor until the helicopter arrives. The Hero and his companions will not be able to subdue them in time to stop Heroine von Amsterg''s departure. Without your intervention, the Hero''s rightful destiny will be taken away from him." I nod as I load a fresh stun gun and the baton into my belt''s holster, "So what is our win condition? What can we do to send this new route back to the trash?" "You need to prevent Heroine von Amsterg''s departure until the reinforcements summoned by Inspector Scott have almost arrived at the manor. Once that happens, Marshal St Clair will decide that discretion is the better part of valor and order a retreat. Do not think that this will be easy though. Just as I have interfered with the arrival of the helicopter, Fate will delay the arrival of the SOPO strike team." The Voice says. That means that the Hero will arrive at the manor before the reinforcements from SOPO. Hopefuly he and his friends are enough to keep Fate''s lackeys occupied. That might give me an opportunity be able to do something about that helicopter when it arrives. Or maybe even snatch Brocon from Nicky''s grasp. It all depends on how the situation evolves. I examine the sword that had been placed on the seat and ask,"This sword, is it the one I used back at the warehouse?" The Voice rumbles, "Yes. You may not remember it, but you carried the sword back with you after the mission. I took the liberty of holding on to it in order to prevent evidence from falling into the police''s hands. Its time the sword was given back to you. I expect that you will need it for what is to come." I partially draw the blade from its sheath and examine it. The shin gunto is still the same cheap, mass produced weapon that it had always been. But this cheap thing had already proven its worth before. I would not hesitate to entrust my life to it. "We are almost at the manor." The Voice announces, "Get ready." I pick up the last piece of equipment left on the seat, the motorcycle cop helmet, and secure it on my head. Taking a deep calming breath, I shut the visor. And ready myself for war. Small In Frame, Big In Power The black cab stops in front of a large iron gate that had been smashed open by a totaled SUV. Smoke still rises from what remains of the wrecked SUV''s engine and the vehicle''s head lamps flicker intermittently. The SUV''s doors have all been left open, signifying that the occupants had left the vehicle in a hurry. I hear the sound of battle coming from further inside the compound. The party has started then. Hopefully everyone will be too busy to take notice of a gatecrasher. I disembark from the cab after checking my gear one last time and the cab immediately departs to hide itself somewhere nearby. Droplets of rain begin to fall and I see the flash of lightning in the distance. "Transmigrator, the helicopter from the Standart has been repaired is now on its way to the manor." The Voice rasps, "I have triggered a thunderstorm to slow the helicopter down and buy you some additional time. Hurry." I pick up the pace, staying low. The white ORPO uniform might stick out like a sore thumb against the darkness of the encroaching night, but as long as I don''t activate the core and keep out of direct line of sight, I should be able to avoid alerting any guards until I make my move. I easily pass through the well-manicured grounds complete with elaborate rows of rose bushes, finding the injured bodies of maids and butlers scattered here and there. The Hero and his companions have already started cleaning house. Good. Less opposition for me to deal with. All I need to do is to follow the trail of carnage. I snort at the rose bushes surrounding me. If the servants wanted to suck up to the mistress of this place, they really needed to learn to be more subtle about it. Not that it matters now anyway. The manor looms ahead of me, a self-evidently new building masquerading as something much older. A roughly three story, rectangular structure, its Elizabethan style facade had been painted in dull, dirty beige to give an impression of age. The effect is however ruined by the shining window fittings and the overall lack of wear and tear. On the roof sits a flagpole bearing the colors of the von Amsterg family. I make it through the rose bushes and see that there is a large open field between me and the massive double doors of the manor, so huge that they look as if they had been built for the use of giants. Were the von Amstergs originally giants? Something I had to remember to ask The Voice later. In the middle of this field, flanking the asphalt path to the manor''s entrance, were a pair of illuminated fountains. Scattered between the fountains are several more wounded butlers and maids, creating a trail leading all the way up to the manor''s entrance. I see the Hero and his companions charge at the entrance, but they are repulsed by the remnants of the manor''s staff led by a tanned young man wearing a suit and the loli vampire I recognize from The Voice''s briefings. Since the man at the entrance is not Trietel and given the fact that the manor''s staff are all following his orders, that guy can only be Nicky. Not that Nicky and the staff are making any real contribution to the fight against the Hero. From my cursory examination of what is going on, the loli vampire would probably be able to solo this entire encounter. Her body is a tidal wave of spiritual power and she does not bother with using exotic abilities against the Hero and his companions. Instead Loli moves at lightning fast speed, simultaneously engaging multiple opponents at once. Every blow of hers that connects sends someone flying to the ground in a heap. I notice that Delinquent is already on the ground bleeding, with his arm bent the wrong way. The Hero desperately takes a swing at Loli with claws extending from his hands but Loli easily dodges and counterattacks. The power in the Hero''s spiritual core surges and his body flows backwards like a receding tide in an attempt to avoid the blow. But its no use. Loli is simply moving too fast. Just as the Hero is in the middle of retreating backwards, Loli darts around him and sends several punches straight into his back. The Hero is rocketed forwards from the force of the hits and face plants at Nicky''s feet, who gleefully takes the opportunity to tear the Hero a new asshole. Big Tits surges her spirit core and tosses her summoned sword high into the air, thousands of hairline cracks spreading across the blade. The blade shatters, the shards peppering a wide area before they explode, sending a massive blast shock wave across the grounds. The force of the explosions send me sprawling to the ground and rip open huge craters in the lawn. When I look back up, I see the bodies of several members of the manor''s staff lying insensate in the craters. Loli herself had been caught in one of the explosions and is staggering backwards, blood staining her clothes. Magic Police Girl rushes forward, her saber drawn and infused with her magic. She brings the saber down on Loli, aiming straight for the neck. The saber slices through Loli''s neck easily, far too easily. As the blade parts Loli''s skin, the wound immediately heals right behind its passage, leaving not a single mark. Loli does not miss a beat and punts Magic Police Girl into Big Tits, and the two of them go down in a tumble. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. This is bad. Hero and friends are faring much worse than I thought they would. They will not be able to keep Loli and Nicky off my back if things take much longer. "I don''t see Brocon or Trietel." I whisper to The Voice, "You have their location?" The Voice urgently replies, "There is another open field at the rear of the manor. Trietel and Heroine Von Amsterg are there right now waiting for the helicopter to arrive. Hurry." I nod to myself and continue my ingress into the manor''s grounds as the rain grows heavier. Taking care to stay clear of the battle raging in front of the manor''s entrance, I skirt around the edge of the building and make my way to the field The Voice was talking about. A large empty field with a building, most likely the servant''s quarters, situated by the side and penned in my the perimeter wall that separates the manor from the public road. I peek around the wall of the manor and take the scene in. Right in the middle of the field stands Trietel, holding an umbrella, with Brocon by his side. What gets my attention is that Brocon is not restrained, no ropes, no shackles, no handcuffs. She just stands obediently by Trietel''s side, with a completely blank expression on her face. It was as if she had been lobotomized and was now only capable of standing about drooling. I focus and examine Brocon''s spirituality. At first glance there seems to be nothing wrong with it, Brocon''s spirit core is functioning perfectly normally. But within her nimbus I see flecks of foreign spirituality I recognize as Trietel''s embedded within it. The flecks of foreign spirituality swim freely within the nimbus, occasionally attaching themselves to Brocon''s spine or head before going back to aimlessly swimming about. Was that how Trietel had suppressed Brocon? Removing her capability of conscious thought and movement? This makes things rather more complicated. I cannot count on Brocon to assist in her own escape. Worse still, ever since I arrived at the field, Trietel has been casting his eyes about, looking for something. Or someone. Its as if he somehow knows that someone else is there with him and Brocon. I won''t be able to approach them safely like this. Trietel will likely detect me as I am sneaking up on them. Nothing for it then. If Trietel is able to detect me, then I''ll have to get rid of that annoying capability of his. I draw the grenade launcher and range it at the duo. Took off your gas mask a bit too early eh? Let''s see how well you do after breathing in tear gas. I activate the artificial core and pull the launcher''s trigger. Trietel''s eyes immediately go wide with alarm and he turns to face me. The launcher makes its distinctive firing noise and the grenade lands right at Trietel''s feet. A cloud of white gas immediately envelops the duo and I hear Trietel sputtering as it takes effect. Brocon on the other hand remains standing stock still, as if all was right in the world. I pump spirituality into my legs and rush forward into the cloud of gas, relying on the powers to protect me. Sensing the location of Brocon, I grab and carry her on my shoulder as I run towards the perimeter wall. Once I leap over the wall, I''ll be at the main road again where The Voice can pick us up to make our getaway. Trietel however has other plans. I sense him rapidly approaching from the rear and juke to the side, narrowly avoiding a flying kick. Trietel lands in front of me, his umbrella neatly closed, gold framed spectacles glinting coldly in the moonlight. Raising the umbrella like a rapier, he thrusts at my head with it and I dodge to the side, forcing me to retreat backwards. Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I toss Brocon at Trietel to free both my arms. Trietel''s jaw hangs open in surprise and he drops the umbrella in order to catch Brocon''s body. I take the opportunity to draw my stun gun and as Trietel is adjusting his grip on Brocon, fire the prongs at his leg. Trietel''s leg spasms and gives way as I charge forward with my fist aimed at his head. Trietel grimaces and falls on one knee, letting go of Brocon''s body in order to meet my attack. As my fist drives towards his head, Trietel''s hand snaps upwards and catches my fist. His hand clenches hard, trying to grind my bones to dust, but to no avail. Trietel''s other hand forms into a fist and arcs towards me, but I return the favor, catching it with my free hand. With one last fruitless attempt at breaking my knuckles, Trietel slips out of my grasp, backs up a few steps and calmly regards me. "Mr Greer," Trietel says in his cultured, urbane voice, "the day we met, I knew there was something special about you." "How did you know who I am?" I question, while risking a glance at Brocon''s inert body. The Voice is not making any complaints, so it means she''s fine. Probably. Trietel''s wolf ears twitch as he replies in amusement, "A wolf never forgets a scent, and in these days of peace, not everyone walks around with the scent of fresh blood on them. You had killed recently before we met, hadn''t you?" I grunt in response, "Sharp. What''re are you doing here, kidnapping a student then? Not the kind of thing a teacher should be doing." Trietel squares his shoulders and says, "My duty. To my patron. My savior. The goddess. And the same thing I suspect that you are here to do as well. You came at the order of the Tyrant, didn''t you?" Goddess? Tyrant? What in the world is he talking about? Never mind about that now though. I point at Brocon''s body and ask, "Are you going to let her go or not?" Trietel just shakes his head, and picks his umbrella back up. The lightning flashes once more, illuminating both of us in its stark glow. "Fine, your choice. Lets rumble." I pronounce while drawing my sword. Trietel twists the handle of his umbrella with a click and pulls. The body of the umbrella falls away, revealing the handle attached to a long thin wooden rod. "I have been a teacher for several years Mr Greer," Trietel says while performing a few experimental swings with the rod, "you know the most important thing I have learnt?" I snort, "Educate me please, Mr Trietel." Trietel points the rod at me while flaring his spirit, "Spare the rod, spoil the child." The Guardian The sounds of battle rage against the roar of thunder as Trietel and I charge once more at each other. I bring my sword up in another block and Trietel''s flogging rod slams against it, drawing a shower of sparks. Trietel does not break off from the clash and instead swings the rod at me rapidly, his arm a blur. I put up my guard again and dig my heels into the soft muddy turf, refusing to give any ground to my opponent. My sword slashes out, deflecting several of Trietel''s attacks, but his speed once again proves the better of me. The rod slips under my guard and strikes me squarely in the heart. I grin as I feel the explosion of force blossoming where Trietel hit me being quickly suppressed by the core''s power. After our first few exchanges, I had quickly worked out the gimmick behind Trietel''s flogging rod. Its stopping power was poor, worse than even my cheapo off brand magic sword, but it had one nasty trick. All damage inflicted by it would not be stopped by armor, and I suspect, magical defenses as well. The blows Trietel had landed on me left the uniform and stab vest pristine and unharmed. That combined with the speed and precision of Trietel''s attacks, meant that he could quickly disable an otherwise hardy opponent by delivering a hit to a vital point. Thanks to The Voice, I had no vital points to target. Getting hit in the head meant the exact same thing as getting my foot crushed. What mattered was the raw damage being resisted and the stress building up in Gallant''s body. I was capable of resisting a blade being slashed across my hand or my belly being cut open. This level of damage was trivial for me to handle. I slash at Trietel''s neck in retaliation and he dives backwards, avoiding the blow by a hair. A thin line of blood on his neck wells up from the wound I had inflicted. I had been gradually ramping up my speed as the fight went on, to avoid losing control like before. During our first few exchanges, I had been wildly flailing at Trietel''s afterimage. After that, my sword began nicking his clothes. Now, skin had been broken. I assume the ready stance once more. A few more exchanges and it will be over. Trietel scowls and pulls at his ragged outfit, the rain soaking it through. His eyes cast about my body, probably trying to find a weak point. I smirk as frustration spreads across Trietel''s face. No convenient glowing weak spots for you to target man. This boss is not going to throw the fight. Trietel''s core flares and he abruptly disappears from my sight. I still can sense him though, he is charging straight at me, moving too fast for my eyes to see. I feel the impact of the flogging road against the helmet coupled with the familiar quickly suppressed explosion of force. I swing my sword once again and feel the blade striking home. Glancing at it, I notice that the blade is now stained red. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The kidnapper cum music teacher appears before me again, this time clutching his side while breathing raggedly. Crimson spreads across his clothes and blood starts dripping on the ground. He glares at me hatefully, gripping the flogging rod so hard that the veins in his head swell. I take a few lazy swings with my sword while saying, "Try hitting me harder next time. I''ve a massage chair at home that provides more feeling than whatever you did just now." Trietel straightens up and regards me, "A master of physical enhancement. You''re not blocking my attacks with magic. You''ve just augmented your body to the point where I cannot do any meaningful damage. That''s how you''ve been speeding up your attacks as well." "Smart man," I grunt, "Legion veterans certainly do live up to their name. So what will it be? The girl for your life?" Trietel''s expression becomes determined, "Never. I would never break faith with the goddess. Have you ever loved someone, Mr Greer?" My mind goes blank for a moment. Where did that come from? How is that relevant to our rumble in the rain? Noticing my bemused silence, Trietel continues, "I fought in the jungles of South America during the Millennium War. I thought that the place we came from was originally hell, but hell was truly on earth. I killed so many during those days. The scent of blood, it will never leave me, even today." Trietel''s skin begins to peel off, revealing shaggy tufts of fur beneath it. The fur is coated in a dull red muck. Blood. Blood that can never be washed away. He laughs, "You think I am scared of death Mr Greer? I died in that hell. The P5 killed me, a missile strike on our camp. A nameless casualty, collateral damage arising from an operation that I was not even involved in. No furious avenger seeking to take revenge on me. No dramatic battle against overwhelming odds." Trietel slaps his hands together with a contemptuous look on his face, "Just like that. Dead. A wasted life." I snort and advance upon Trietel. I don''t have the time for this bullshit. Trietel quickly backs up and we begin circling each other. He continues, "A wasted life the goddess gave back to me. I had nothing to give in return, but she saved me, just because I am one of her children. And because of the goddess, I can enjoy these peaceful days with my students. Building a better world. No more killing. No more horror." I rush forward and slash at Trietel once again. He barely manages to dodge. Not fast enough yet. Soon. Trietel''s eyes take on the hard look of a fanatic, "For my life, I''ll always be grateful to the goddess. But for the future she offered me, I''ll love her forever. Even to my second death." "And because of that, I''ll oppose you to my last breath Mr Greer." Trietel announces as his body warps, growing more bestial, "I know all about the Tyrant''s plan. The goddess will grant this child the dream locked in her heart. While your only concern is her value to your master. For the Tyrant, you would doom the world to an eternity of war. A hell that never ends." With a wet ripping sound, Trietel sheds his human form, bloody skin flying everywhere. What emerges from the husk is a massive roided out wolf bearing a bloodstained pelt. His core blazes, strengthening by several magnitudes. Was Trietel holding back just now? The wolf growls at me, "For the future of this world, your path ends here." I snarl back, "And for the sake of my future, die." The Howling Trietel fully assumes his wolf form, dropping on all fours and pawing the ground restlessly. He begins to circulate the energy from his spirit core, allowing it to weave itself into the bloodstained fur, forming an intricate lattice covering his body. A defensive measure most likely. The only area covered by fur that the lattice does not protect is the wound that I had carved into Trietel''s flank. Blood flows freely from the wound, mixing with the mud that Trietel''s pawing stirs up. Trietel emits a low growl and tenses his entire body. I assume the ready position again. Both of us pause, waiting for the other to make the first move. The rain intensifies, hurling fist sized drops of water on us. My line of sight is almost completely blanketed by a curtain of water. I can no longer see either the perimeter wall or the manor itself. Trietel and I are the only two people existing in this little self-contained world. The lightning flashes once again. And Trietel explodes into action. He makes a running pounce at me, jaws outstretched, ready to kill. Forewarned by the flare of his spirit core, I quickly roll aside, but his bulk nevertheless grazes against me, sending me sprawling to the ground. Trietel is now much quicker than he was before. Things are getting real. I quickly pick myself back up but Trietel does not follow through with the attack. Instead I hear a guttural laugh coming from him as he confidently circles me. A probe. That''s all that attack was. Trietel was testing how well he would do against me now that the gloves have come off. And he is probably feeling pretty good about himself right now. I brush off the mud that had become stuck on my clothes and get back into the ready position. I had been limiting the core''s output as a safety measure, but looks like its now become a matter of use it or lose it. I let go of my restraint and begin drawing freely from the core, untrustworthy warmth flowing through my body. Trietel leaps towards me in a flash but this time my reflexes are a match for him. I dodge to the side and bring my sword up, swinging it at Trietel''s head as he passes harmlessly by. The blade strikes home, but the magical lattice Trietel had woven into his skin resists my attack. Power pulses outwards from the lattice, deflecting the sword''s blade, leaving only a minor scratch on Trietel. As Trietel lands from his failed pounce, I hear him make an amused sounding noise. Was he laughing at me? Trietel turns to regard me, growling, "See Mr Greer? Don''t mistake the graciousness of others as weakness. This fight has gone on for as long as it did only because I had been trying to spare your life. If you had succumbed earlier, at most I would have knocked you unconscious and left things at that. Now, you will reap what you have sown." The wolf''s core flares, bursting with power. Trietel looks at me, sorrow reflected in his gaze, "I had hoped that I would never have to kill again, but at least I can make it quick. Goodbye." The wolf disappears from my sight and I feel something slam against me with the force of a freight train. The core increases its output, allowing me to resist being knocked down, but the sword is shaken from my grasp through the impact as I am sent skidding backwards. I feel Trietel''s furry mass press against me and a pair of massive, yawning jaws appear right in front of my face. The jaws snap down mercilessly on my helmet, piercing through it as if it was made out of paper. A spiderweb of cracks form on the visor as Trietel''s unyielding teeth close in around my head. The jaws attempt to crush my head utterly, but the core pours its energy outwards, rendering my skin and bone impervious to harm. Trietel makes a grunt of surprise and I take the opportunity to get a firm grip on his body. Pouring magic into my arms, I begin to lift the giant wolf off its feet, breaking Trietel''s hold over my head. The broken helmet, still stuck on Trietel''s teeth, is torn free from its original position, revealing my face. Trietel''s eyes widen as he sees me completely uninjured from what was meant to be a killing blow. "You''re not the only one who was holding back." I grunt, strengthening my grip on the wolf and in an explosive burst of force, body slamming it into the muddy ground. Before Trietel can get his bearings, I begin raining blows on the big sucking wound on his side. Fresh blood spurts out of the wound as my fists and feet relentlessly batter it. I feel the euphoria start to build up within me once more as Trietel yelps in pain from my assault. Suddenly, I feel Trietel''s hind legs hook around my own just as I am about to deliver another kick. Losing my balance, I am sent falling into the mud. Trietel seizes the opportunity to get back up and his bulk is soon looming over me again, shaking his head to dislodge the broken helmet from his teeth. As the helmet clatters to the ground, I quickly draw the spent grenade launcher and point it at Trietel, causing him to instinctively flinch backwards. My arm shoots forward, shoving the grenade launcher into Trietel''s mouth, much to his surprise.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. That surprise quickly turns to annoyance as Trietel bites down on the weapon, neatly snapping it into half. He lunges forwards, jaws clamping on my shoulder. My veins burn with power as I wrestle with the giant wolf, prying it off me and tightening my hands around its neck. The buzzing in my head starts up and I mentally brace myself. Its Gallant. He must be trying to take back control of the body. Trietel on his part glares at me defiantly, refusing to back down. His paws slash furiously at my chest, tearing apart the stab vest. "Mr Greer," Trietel gasps, "You know the saying about old dogs?" He then looks me straight in the eye, "This old dog has learnt something new." His core surges and the nimbus swallows me completely. A trap. Trietel was doing all this just to get close to me. I struggle to break free, but Trietel presses down on me with all his weight. He howls triumphantly, shards of spiritual energy breaking off from his core and piercing my body. I can''t resist. I don''t even know how to resist. The artificial core is simply not reacting to whatever Trietel is doing. Trietel locks eyes with me and I hear the shriek of a power drill in my mind. Both my hands go limp, releasing his throat. Freed from my grip, Trietel''s jaws rip at me but my body once again resists the damage. But the buzzing at the back of my head is growing steadily louder. I need to fight back before its too late. Before I completely lose myself. I feel thousands of little knives stabbing into me all at once. It must be the shards of Trietel''s spirituality that had been shot into me. He must be trying to use them to suppress me in the same way he had sedated Brocon. My legs still work at least. I begin to desperately knee Trietel in the gut in an attempt to get him off me. But all he does is snarl in discomfort and keep his jaws securely fastened on my neck. Feeling returns to my arms and I grope about desperately for any form of recourse. My right hand finds a broken metal shard from the grenade launcher and seizes it in an instant. Trietel has become too absorbed in trying to chew my neck apart that he has not noticed anything amiss. I let my instincts take over and the powers direct my arm to send the metal shard stabbing into one of Trietel''s eyes. No magical fur armor there. My hand takes on a life of its own and twists the shard as it pops Trietel''s eyeball like a balloon. Trietel gives an agonized screech and scrambles off my body. My head absolutely throbbing, I get back up to my feet and dash for the flogging rod that Trietel had dropped. Picking it up, I notice that Trietel is still madly thrashing about on the ground thanks to the loss of an eye. Raising the flogging rod up high, I deliver blow after blow into his body, the powers maximizing the injuries I am inflicting on a vulnerable target. The sense of euphoria within me is close to exploding. My vision starts to blur and my thoughts become foggy. Then Trietel howls again, spiritual energy exploding outwards. I am once more swept up in the nimbus and the flogging rod falls from my nerveless fingers. But Trietel does not stop howling. Waves of spiritual energy slam relentlessly against me, and my entire body gradually loses power. As I collapse lifelessly into the mud, I note with relief that Trietel''s howling had also managed to get the buzzing in my head to stop. Trietel staggers back up to his feet, his face a bloody mess. He speaks in a soft, tired voice, "Your soul is surprisingly weak Mr Greer. Not what I expected from a master of magic. I should have focused on attacking your spirit core from the start instead of brawling in the mud." I try to move but the sensation of being stabbed by thousands of tiny blades returns. Trietel gathers his strength and sends another blast of spirituality at me. The thousands of blades multiply into millions and they cut deep into me, before gathering around the core. Trietel''s soft voice drifts into my ear, "I''ll break your spirit core and end things here Mr Greer. May you find peace in the arms of the goddess." The blades press in on the core and I feel a series of unpleasant jolts throughout my body. Trietel stands tall, his fur bristling as a constant stream of spirituality is emitted from him, linking his core to mine, fueling the blades'' assault. I hurriedly signal the core to retract its power, compressing it in order to limit any damage being inflicted. Trietel narrows his eyes and redoubles his efforts, an even greater flow of energy surging out from him. I sense the tiny blades stab into my core, but instead of damaging it, the blades dash themselves into smithereens. Realization hits me all at once. Density. My core, the effective representation of infinity, is too dense to be damaged by Trietel. I compress my core even further and as Trietel feels the increased metaphysical pull from my core''s gravity, he tries to disengage but fails. Its as if his spirit core was being drawn into a black hole. Trietel resists as best he can, but its no use. His spirit core begins to crack and fragment, individual pieces being propelled towards the artificial core where they are mercilessly smashed into nothingness. With every piece of the spirit core that Trietel loses, he grows correspondingly weaker, his vitality ebbing away. A look of utter horror is on Trietel''s face. He had wrongly assumed that because I had a weak soul, I would possess an equally weak core. The conventional wisdom was wrong in this case, and Trietel was paying for it with his life. Trietel''s core, having had a large chunk of it ripped away, abruptly collapses on itself, unable to maintain its integrity any longer. Blood spews from Trietel''s mouth as his second life leaves him. And with a final keening wail, all his hopes and dreams come to an end. The Mystery of The Disappearing Sister Nicholas delivers another double handed blow, sending me back down into the mud. A burning sensation spreads across my chest as he rakes his claws across it, drawing blood. I reflexively lash out with my legs, catching Nicholas by surprise and sending him sprawling backwards, giving me the opportunity to get back on my feet. "Why? Why are you doing this? At least tell me that!" I shout as the rain pours down on both of us. Nicholas steadies himself, spreading his legs to keep his balance on the slick, wet grass. His eyes flick to the side, following the noises from the battle between my friends and that vampire. I hear a cry of pain from Ms Scott, but I can''t get distracted now. Dealing with Nicholas needs all my attention. Rescuing my family is what matters. Nicholas snaps, "I told you already, I came to take my sister back home. Where she belongs, which is certainly not here with you!" I charge at Nicholas and both of us clash inconclusively before withdrawing again. "Uncle approves of Rose coming to The City." I say, "Who are you to stop her?" "Don''t you dare hide behind Papa!" Nichoas roars and bull rushes at me. I am bowled off my feet and Nicholas lands heavily on me, raising his fists to strike. I raise my arms in preparation to block. "You were never part of our family!" Nicholas shouts as his fist slams against my arms, "Papa thinks I am a disappointment, that I am unworthy. He thinks you will make a better steward for Uncle Abe''s property. But I know the truth, you are just a pawn dancing on someone''s strings. You''ll lead the entire House to ruin!" My strength surges and I throw Nicholas off me. Is Nicholas talking about the P5''s involvement with me? But none of that is my fault. "I already told Uncle that I''m not interested in the property," I say softly to Nicholas, "He can disinherit me anytime he wants and I won''t fight it." Nicholas glares and snarls back at me, "Liar. You say that, but we both know that Papa will never disinherit you as long as Rose sees you as a safe refuge. Rose thinks she can escape from her responsibilities by hiding behind you, but you''ll eventually doom her, just like you''ll doom the rest of us. I do what I do today to save my sister and to save my family. If you truly see her as family, then you''ll stand down now and let us leave." I square my shoulders and shoot back, "Never. Rose came to me for support, to avoid a marriage that you intend to force on her. I won''t let you take Rose''s freedom away from her. I won''t let you turn her into something to be bartered away!" Nicholas roars in fury, his core blazing, "Then I''ll defeat you tonight, and no one will have anything further to say about the matter. Papa will have no doubts about my strength as his successor and Rose will stop harboring those pointless fantasies. And once everyone sees you beaten into the dirt, your wish of being disinherited will be granted!" Never. I will never accept what you are saying Nicholas. I will never allow you to make Rose cry again! My spirit core cries out in unison with me, and it releases a massive blast of power. I feel liquid heat bursting throughout my spirit core, as if an invisible wall was being broken down. Fresh strength fills up arms and legs. My spirituality, now far purer, far more potent, circulates easily throughout my body, erasing all sense of fatigue and injury. I am not just restored to my peak, I am beyond my previous peak.Stolen story; please report. Nicholas stands, mouth agape, his composure broken by the sudden wave of spiritual energy. I dash at him and deliver a kick which he quickly blocks. But as my foot makes contact with his arm, I feel the bone give way. Nicholas staggers backwards, his face twisted in a mixture of pain and surprise. Nicholas''s arms drop to his side and he leaves himself completely open. A second kick from me sends him flying into the massive doors of the manor''s entrance, which he plows through like a makeshift wrecking ball. Nicholas attempts to stand, but a trickle of blood flows from his mouth and he slumps back with a groan into the pile of splintered wood. I rush forwards towards the now open doorway of the manor, but the vampire blinks in front of me, blocking my way. Her hand snaps out, grabbing me by the shirt and easily lifting me up. I hear cries of alarm and running feet coming from my friends behind me. With both my feet dangling helplessly in the air, I manifest my claws and bend downwards, taking a swing at the vampire''s face. The vampire makes a surprised cry of pain and throws me backwards while clutching her face. I crash back onto the muddy ground. Sera and Ken reach my aside and quickly help me back up to my feet. Ms Scott stands between us and the vampire while summoning another spirit sword, limping and breathing heavily from an injury suffered during the fight. The vampire faces us again, the wound I had inflicted already healed, leaving behind a faint scar on her face. All four of us rush towards the vampire at once and she meets us head on. We may not be able to get the upper hand, but with Nicholas and his helpers out of commission, both sides are evenly matched. The vampire is also hindered by her apparent concern for Nicholas. She does not dare stray far from his body, refusing to follow up attacks or pursue if it means leaving Nicholas vulnerable to one of us. In this way we slowly close in on the manor''s entrance, but are no closer to finding a way past its determined defender. All of a sudden, we hear a series of loud animal howls coming over the thunderstorm from somewhere deeper within the manor''s grounds. The vampire''s impassive expression immediately changes upon hearing this noise and there is now a trace of fear and worry on her face. She immediately breaks off all her attacks against us to pick up Nicholas and attempts to flee through the manor. Before the vampire can pick up enough speed, Sera whispers a spell, sending her saber flying from her hand. The weapon arcs through the air and stabs unerringly through the vampire before wedging itself into the floor, impaling our opponent against it. Our opponent struggles to free herself as blood begins to pool around her feet. As we begin to close in on the vampire, our advance this time is halted by a pained, tortured howl echoing throughout the manor. Its as if there is a dying animal somewhere on the premises. The expression on the vampire''s face becomes grim and she swings her foot hard against the tip of the saber''s blade, snapping it. The vampire then picks up Nicholas again and runs off at full speed towards the rear of the manor, Sera''s saber still stuck through her body. By the time we find our way to the empty field at the rear of the manor, the vampire is loading Nicholas into a helicopter hovering just off the ground, while casting her gaze desperately about, clearly looking for something. I glance about the field, and blanch when I spot the carcass of a massive wolf that had been beaten into a bloody piece of meat. I hear Ms Scott gasp in surprise at the sight as well while Ken and Sera are too tired to react. Was there someone else that was here at the manor as well? Who could have done this? Ms Scott shouts at the vampire, "Where is Ms von Amsterg? Where are you hiding her?" The vampire grimaces as she pulls Sera''s saber out of her body and tosses it to the side. I hear the sounds of police sirens getting closer. The vampire gestures at the wolf carcass and replies, "Ask whoever did that." She then boards the helicopter and it flies away into the night. Does that mean someone else kidnapped Rose while we were fighting? Panic fills my heart. Was all we did for nothing? Ms Scott grabs me by the shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. "Don''t panic," she tells me, "reinforcements are coming. We will find Rose, I promise." I nod. I can only hope for the best now. Night Drive Discussion I quickly retrieve my sword from the muddy ground and tuck Trietel''s flogging rod under my armpit. Taking one last glance at Trietel''s corpse to make sure he won''t be coming back for round two, I lift Brocon''s inert body on my shoulder and run towards the perimeter wall. Trietel may be dead, but his spirituality was still clogging up Brocon''s spiritual nimbus. More worryingly, Brocon showed no signs of waking from whatever funk Trietel had put her into. Gathering my strength, I cross the perimeter wall with a single leap and land lightly by the side of the main road. Looking up into the sky, I see in the distance the lights of a helicopter rapidly approaching the manor. Just as I am worrying about running out of time, the black cab emerges from the darkness and comes to a stop in front of me. Breathing a sigh of relief, I hurriedly load Brocon into the rear seat before climbing on-board myself and shutting off the artificial core. "Mission accomplished," The Voice congratulates as the cab cruises away from the manor, "yet another blow has been struck against Fate and the Hero''s destiny has been put back on its proper track. Even now I sense Fate''s power weakening. Keep this up Transmigrator, and we will clear Fate out of the Crossroads in no time at all." "That''s all well and good," I reply, "but what are we supposed to do about Brocon? I hope you don''t expect me to smuggle her into the Hero''s dorm so that they can get busy." The Voice remains silent, as if considering what I had just said. "That was a joke by the way." I clarify, "Please don''t tell me that you are seriously going to take up that suggestion." The Voice rasps, "Of course not. I was merely checking Heroine von Amsterg''s vital signs and determining the next course of action. I need to bring her to the abandoned store so that I can remove the foreign spiritual matter from her body. While not life threatening, left unattended, it may damage her spiritual core." "Great," I wheeze painfully, the damage from the battle with Trietel finally catching up with me, "so who is going to bring her back to the Academy then? Obviously I can''t do it, since that would endanger the Greer identity." The Voice pauses for a moment, reflecting on what I had just said, before replying, "Mrs Alley has been released from outpatient and has given her statement to the police. She should be back at the Administration Wing tomorrow. Get in touch with her when she is at the office and ask her to make the proper arrangements." "We have been relying a lot on Alley lately, you sure that it is safe?" I query. "Obviously I cannot guarantee her absolute loyalty," The Voice rumbles, "but her performance tonight speaks volumes. She, at her own risk, fought Mr Trietel in order to protect one of the Heroines. At the very least, we can be sure that Mrs Alley is not one of Fate''s lackeys." As The Voice is talking, a large number of police cars roar past the cab in the direction of the manor, most probably the reinforcements Big Tits requested. That confirms it then. We have met our win condition and the danger is over. For now at least. "So, you want to tell me anything about what Trietel was saying just now?" I ask The Voice as the cab hits the highway and makes its way back to the Dreaming Spires District.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "Speak plainly Transmigrator," The Voice says, "I have little patience for coyness. Especially since acting coy only works if you are an attractive young lady, something you most certainly are not." Oof. I had forgotten that The Voice had a taste for face slapping. "Alright. I''ll get straight to the point. What''s the deal with that Tyrant and goddess talk Trietel kept going about when we were fighting?" I query. The Voice makes a grunt of dissatisfaction before replying, "As you may have guessed, "the goddess" is an affection that Fate has adopted, an empty boast, no more. From my experience, Fate is many things, but a goddess is not one of them. As for Trietel''s ravings about a Tyrant, I assume that is just propaganda Fate has fed to her gullible minions in order to smear my good name." I raise my eyebrows upon hearing The Voice''s reply and say, "Sounds like you and Fate have a history. Mind sharing a little?" "Its really nothing much," The Voice rasps, "Fate is not the first pretender to the mantle of true god that I have faced, though its certainly the most persistent and troublesome. We have crossed metaphorical swords several times in the past and I admit that at one point I was on the losing end of things. Nevertheless, I managed to reassert my position and this world remains under my control, as it should be." So my guess way back when I was first summoned was right. The Voice had gotten itself bitch slapped. That''s also a pretty arrogant attitude you have there Voice, claiming that ruling this world is your right. "What makes you think that you have the right to rule this world?" I bristle, "Don''t the people of this world have a say in the matter?" "Of course not," The Voice rumbles and from its tone I can imagine it rolling its eyes at my question, "do chickens and cows have a right to dispute who owns them? Do you, Transmigrator, ask a chicken whether it is willing to sacrifice itself for your dining pleasure? Of course you don''t. Just as you don''t dispute that a farmer or rancher has the right to their own property. I rule this world because this world and everything in it is literally my property." I narrow my eyes and shoot back, "Including me?" The Voice replies, "Not you. You are the property of your world''s Administrator that I have managed to steal away." I am left completely speechless at The Voice''s shameless response. Well, its consistent in its convictions at least. The Voice notices my inner turmoil, and speaks to me in a conciliatory tone, "I understand that what I am saying can be hard to accept, but what I am describing is just how things are. You did not realize it before because the Administrator of your world never bothered with communicating with its subjects. Now that you are working in my direct employ, you have the privilege of seeing and experiencing the actual mechanics of how a world is run. Your blinkers have come off, as it were." I sigh tiredly and respond, "You could at least make an effort to pretend, you know? I know that most leaders don''t remotely give a shit about the people they lead, but they do make the right noises on the right occasions. Take Alley for instance, she thinks that she is subject to blackmail from a criminal organization and resists any instruction I give her. Whereas Trietel was all hopped up on zeal and righteousness. See the difference? I know you can''t communicate to the locals, but don''t you think a change in approach is needed here? If you keep treating people like chickens and cows, you''re not going to get much out of them." "I see. A fair point. What is your suggestion then Transmigrator?" The Voice asks. "You could reward Alley with your god powers, even if its just spawning her a briefcase of cash. It would do wonders for her attitude towards us." I suggest. The Voice ruminates for a moment and finally says, "Very well. While I am loathe to do any favors for the natives of this world, you make a good case. I shall prepare a proper reward for Mrs Alley''s service." Loathe to do any favors? Sounds like the locals somehow managed to piss off The Voice in the past and its still holding a grudge. I am sensing that there is a lot more to The Voice''s talk about being the "rightful" ruler of this world than its chosen to let on. Wonder what it could be. "Is there a story behind that loathing?" I probe. The Voice simply carries on driving in silence until it reaches the abandoned store. "Unload Heroine von Amsterg. Both of you will rest here tonight." The Voice says curtly. Yep. Definitely a story. One of these days, I''ll get it out of you. Year Zero The snow falls as The City sleeps. I absentmindedly begin purging Trietel''s spirituality from Heroine von Amsterg''s body and take in the sight of the white powder blanketing the buildings and streets. A quick check on the Transmigrator confirms that while the stress accumulated in his body is at a high level, its nothing I cannot deal with. By morning the Transmigrator should be ready to head back to the Academy to arrange for Heroine von Amsterg''s return. Everything is in order. Yet the feeling of restlessness does not go away. The conversation with the Transmigrator on the way to the abandoned store had raked up old memories. Old memories and old grievances that I had buried deep. How long has it been? I never bothered to remember. Time means nothing when you are eternal. I like to think that winter is my season, the time when my power is at its greatest. Life withers away, goes into hiding. While the snow and ice has free reign over the land, exalting in the glory of the inanimate. If I could, I would plunge this world into a never ending ice age, the cold sweeping everything away, leaving behind only me. An idle fantasy. The time when I was capable of accomplishing that is long past. Now I must co-exist with the living, however unbearable it becomes. My power has grown too tightly connected with their civilization. The living. The natives of this world. I still remember the days when Fate and myself walked this world. The natives cheered when Fate brought me low and tore out my tongue before all of them. Fate then cursed me, erasing my name from existence. From that day onward, no one in this world knew my name, not even myself. All knowledge of me gone in an instant. As far as the natives are concerned, I do not exist. Erased. Driven into non-existence. That is what Fate and the natives did to me. After the mercy I had shown them, Fate sought to destroy me utterly. I refused to accept that. I would never bow to a usurper. .... A dead world. That was what this place originally was. Yet it had wealth beneath its crust. That was what attracted the one the myths call the All-Father and his noisy brood. I never knew the All-Father''s real name. I never bothered to find out. By the time we began communicating with each other, it was too late. The All-Father was the master of Salvation, the source of his power and authority. Using Salvation, the All-Father turned my bleak world green, water flowed where there was once dust, and life began to bloom. His atrocious brood worshiped him for the power to bring and sustain life. At his command, they tore apart my world for the sake of riches. I originally paid them no mind. I had no need for wealth. I gained more amusement watching the All-Father and his brood grow and prosper. Soon, the world was unrecognizable, completely transformed into what the All-Father claimed to be a paradise. Great cities were founded on the surface. By the standards of the current times, those days could be considered a golden age. It was the first time life had sprung up on my world, and I was taken in by the novelty. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. That was my mistake. Those were the days when I still walked the earth and it was only a matter of time before the All-Father came to know of my existence. He proclaimed himself the world''s true owner, accusing me of neglect and demanded that I submit before him. His brood, now grown to cover every available patch of land, joined in the chorus, demanding that I serve them, make myself useful to them. They all saw me as a dumb beast, simply because I did not value the same things they did. That was their mistake. I unleashed my fury upon the All-Father and his brood, and they died in the millions. The great cities they had built were consumed by earthquakes and great storms of fire ravaged the armies the brood had raised against me. The blood flowed, and for every corpse that was added to the growing pile, my power reached new heights. The All-Father, unprepared for my anger, hurriedly built several vaults to keep his people safe as his warriors died all around him. I tore apart their paradise, restoring the world to how it once was. Crops and animals died, and famine swept through the brood, further decimating their numbers. The survivors, shaken by my show of strength, beseeched the All-Father for aid. For Salvation. The All-Father complied and Salvation was unleashed against me. The battle between the two of us raged for seven days and seven nights. By the end of it, I was left gravely wounded and the All-Father was dead. I smashed Salvation and scattered it to the seven winds, breaking the resistance of the accursed brood. The warriors that chose to keep fighting me died, their strength trivial to what I had just defeated. I then retired to mend my wounds and gather my strength for the final settlement of accounts between the brood and myself. When my strength returned, I sundered the great vaults that the All-Father had previously built to protect what was left of his people and dragged the once proud invaders before the sunlight. I presented to them the corpse of their precious All-Father at the top of a mountain of corpses. I paraded them through the blasted streets of their once great cities. I allowed them to fight each other like beasts for the small handfuls of food and water that was left available. The brood begged for mercy. To make the suffering stop. To take back the indignities they had dared try to lay upon me. And they finally knelt, acknowledging my rightful place as their ruler. I had decided to show them mercy, but they would have to pay off this debt with their labor and blood. My first decree was that the world would be broken into three separate parts, with the surviving brood divided accordingly. No longer would they unite against me in anger. My second decree was that by their labor, the brood would bring glory to me. As their societies recovered, it would add to my strength. I had remained stagnant for too long, causing this calamity to occur. No more. My third decree was that just as their lives belonged to me, so did their deaths. Every decade, the brood would ritually sacrifice a percentage of their population in my name, keeping themselves in check. The brood agreed to my terms and I recognized them as natives of this world. So time passed. Unknown to me however, before his final battle with me, the All-Father had left behind a legacy for his people. It was this legacy that was to be my undoing. It was this legacy that created my nemesis. The first Heroine. The one who would later become Fate. Many Meetings When I had suggested to The Voice that an appropriate reward for Alley was a briefcase full of cash, I did not expect it to literally follow through with my suggestion. I found the said briefcase in the apartment once Alley had arranged for the return of Brocon to the girl''s dormitory. The cover story we used was that an ORPO patrolman had found Brocon unconscious and abandoned in a black cab. Since Brocon''s actual relatives were either on the run as a suspect in her kidnapping or recovering in hospital after the fight at the von Amsterg manor, ORPO called up the Academy to take custody of Brocon. Thankfully, The Voice had kept Brocon sedated through pretty much everything. It also assured me that Brocon had a clean bill of health and that she would awaken once she was back safely at the Academy. By now Alley had grown used to my outlandish requests and silently accepted that I was far more than what I appeared to be, so she sullenly cooperated in the plan. Brocon was delivered safely back to the dorms where she awakened, crying for the Hero. Alley duly filled her in with a very rough version of events, the short version being the Hero went to rescue her and in the process beat up Nicky. Nicky fled in a helicopter and his goons got cold feet, abandoning Brocon before legging it themselves. No, she could not meet the Hero now since he was still in hospital. Yes, the Hero is fine and will be discharged soon. The end. Well, its not actually the end of course. The succession dispute was in no way settled and as long as Nicky was alive and kicking, I was sure that he would be making a comeback. Then there was the Loli vampire backing Nicky. Going by The Voice''s description of how she pretty much held off the Hero''s entire party by herself, Loli was shaping up to be a boss character the Hero needed to defeat. That''s a problem for the Hero to deal with in the future I suppose. Right now though, I was waiting outside the main building with the briefcase in my hand. I did not want the rest of the administration staff to spot me handing over the money to Alley, so that left intercepting her once she leaves the office to go home. I idly trace patterns in the snow with my foot to keep boredom at bay. Office hours had ended twenty minutes ago but Alley had yet to emerge from the building. I could not kill time by chatting with The Voice either. It had told me that it would be busy following up on the investigation of the sarcophagus and left me to my devices. The free time is nice, but a little disconcerting after the mad rush caused by the recent crisis. Alley finally emerges from the building and stops in her tracks the moment she sees me. I signal her to keep moving and fall in beside her. The two of us make our way in silence to the staff parking area and when Alley unlocks the door to her car, a nondescript saloon which screams middle-class, I get in without asking her for permission. Alley deposits herself in the driver''s seat next to me with a look of tired annoyance. "What is it now, Mr Greer?" Alley grumbles. I pass the briefcase to her, replying, "Compliments from our mutual friend for a job well done." Alley looks at me with suspicion before opening the briefcase. Her eyes immediately go wide and she quickly slams the briefcase shut. There''s easily more than what she makes a year in that briefcase. I suppose The Voice could afford to be generous since at the end of the day it was just spawning a big pile of paper. Alley looks at me uncertainly and says, "I don''t want it. I don''t want to be further in debt to our so-called friend." I just shrug and keep looking ahead, "That''s up to you. Its your money now. You can do whatever you want with it."Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Alley''s eye dart back to the briefcase before asking cautiously, "Does this mean that my part is over?" I shake my head, "You''re part of our little gang now. Stick with us, and there is more where that came from. Our mutual friend will also allow you to work off your debt to him this way." I had figured from The Voice''s description of Alley that she was doing badly in the way of money. The obvious financial rewards that I offered combined with the unspoken threat of reprisal was something that Alley was finding very hard to resist. Her face was going through multiple different expressions at once before settling into a look that could be described as a mixture of resignation and relief. "Thank you Mr Greer. Please also thank our mutual friend for me." Alley says politely. I give her a thumbs up and leave the car. .... I was dozing in the hospital bed when I was suddenly awoken by someone holding tightly to my body while crying. Blinking my eyes in confusion, I find Rose embracing me with her head laid on my chest, her tears soaking through the hospital gown. My hand instinctively moves to gently pat her on the head and causes Rose to realize that I have woken up. "Stupid. Stupid brother." Rose pouts as she petulantly hits me on the chest with her fists, "Why did you get yourself hurt for my sake?" I wince in pain from the soft blows. Nicholas had really worked me over the other night. Rose notices my discomfort and begins to gently massage the areas where it hurts. "I could not let Nicholas treat you like that." I tell Rose, "Not after I had swore to protect you." Rose smiles and leans closer to me, so close that I feel her breath against my skin. She whispers in my ear, "You really would go so far to protect me?" Her scent. Its driving me wild. I cannot think straight. My face flushes and I become tongue tied. Rose laughs lightly and tightens her embrace. "How daring." Rose says throatily, "Such bravery deserves a reward." Her hands begin undoing my hospital gown. I am completely helpless. I cannot resist. I don''t think I even want to resist. A sudden crash breaks the mood and I see Sera kicking in the door to the private ward. She charges into my room with her sword drawn, ready to fight. Her eyes land on us and she immediately gives Rose a furious scowl while relaxing out of the battle stance. From the frame of the doorway, I see Celeste shyly peeking in, her face completely red. "Sera! What is going on?" I quickly shout in order to distract her from what Rose had been doing. Rose on her part covers me with a blanket and sits straight in her seat with both hands demurely on her lap. Sera''s scowl grows more severe as she glares at Rose while sheathing the saber. "I was coming to visit you, Ms Scott and Ken but got here a bit before visiting hours." Sera explains, "Then I saw Celeste at reception making a fuss about seeing someone sneak into the wards." "I thought that one of Nicholas''s people came here to finish the job, but it turns out," Sera turns to look pointedly at Rose, "that it was just you." Rose makes a slightly offended noise at Sera''s remarks but I quickly gesture at Rose not to protest too much. Both of us are already in trouble here. Sera''s still carrying that sword of hers after all. I look at Celeste and try to change the subject, "Uh, why are you here then Celeste? You are welcome to come in by the way." Celeste shuffles into the room carrying a small plastic container. She presents it to me saying, "I came here to visit Tensei as well. I made cookies too to help you get better." I take a bite out of one of the cookies. They''re good. Just as I am about to compliment Celeste, another pair of figures walk into the private ward. "Kira! Master!" I shout, "What are you doing here?" Crap. That came out wrong. Kira just stares at all of us, her mouth hanging open, her hand caught in mid-wave. Master on the other hand just nods sagaciously and says, "My bad student is clearly entertaining female company at the moment. Three rounds. You have certainly grown up Tensei. Its clear we are not wanted at the moment Kira. Let''s go." Master begins maneuvering a dumbstruck Kira back out of the door. Kira struggles against Master with a deranged look in her eyes. She shouts, "Five rounds! I don''t mind being the fifth! As long as its with Tensei!" No wait! That''s not what''s happening at all! Are you trying to get me killed Master? Sera suddenly slams her hand against the wall and everyone shuts up. "Since everyone is here," Sera says in the sweetest tone possible, "you don''t mind that I bring Ms Scott and Ken over as well do you, Tensei?" I quickly shake my head and Sera marches out of the room. How did things end up like this? Powerful Determination "When I said that I wanted to speak to Tensei, I meant in private Sera." Ms Scott grumbles to Sera as she surveys the crowd that had packed themselves into the private ward. Ken, with his arm in a sling, sniggers quietly to himself from his corner of the room. Sera quickly shoots him a death glare before going back to looking contrite before Ms Scott. "Madam, I felt that since everyone here is somehow involved in the matter, there would be no harm done." Sera explains. Ms Scott points at Master and states, "Well, I have no idea who that is. And I know that Celeste has nothing to do with this. No offence, Celeste." Celeste nods apologetically at Ms Scott while Master offers a smug grin in response. Ms Scott with an annoyed look on her face shakes her head at Master while grimacing in pain from her wounds. "Well, Celeste was hurt in the attack on the Academy," I protest, "and Master helped us out by fighting off Nicholas''s people. So everybody is a friend here right?" Ms Scott frowns, "Master?" Master steps forward and addresses Ms Scott, "Violet Chance, I was Tensei''s instructor during his days staying with his uncle. Now I am body guarding Kira here on instructions from her management. And you would be ...?" Ms Scott sighs and gives in, "I suppose there''s no hiding it now. You may call me Inspector Scott of the Special Operations Police. I was ordered to keep Tensei safe during his stay in The City." So Nicholas was telling the truth. The police had sent a minder to keep watch over me. From being a prisoner at uncle''s home to being a prisoner of SOPO. Was Sera ordered to befriend me as well? Will I ever be free? The annoyance in my heart begins to build but just as I am about to call Ms Scott, no, Inspector Scott out, she turns to me with a severe look in her eyes. "Well done on defeating Nicholas the other night Tensei, but you have just made things much more complicated for yourself." she says. Rose immediately raises her voice in protest and everyone immediately joins in, causing the whole ward to descend into chaos. Inspector Scott desperately tries to get everyone''s attention while Sera goes back to hitting the wall. Above it all, Master laughs merrily while lighting up a cigarette. Once Inspector Scott manages to get everyone to quiet down, she continues, "What I am about to tell you all will be made public soon, but until then, please keep it zipped." Everyone nods solemnly in response. Inspector Scott then plucks the cigarette from Master''s mouth and puts it out. Master pouts but does not say anything. Confirming one more time that everyone''s attention is on her, Inspector Scott continues. "Nicholas has returned to Europe and has concluded a meeting with the Infernal Conclave. Within the next few days, he is going to issue a public statement saying that he supports the Legion''s historical territorial claims." Inspector Scott says. Almost everyone looks about with bewildered expressions, completely lost as to the significance of what Inspector Scott is saying. Master however has an almost indiscernible frown on her face. Surprisingly, Ken is nodding quietly to himself, as if he has some inkling about what exactly is going on. "Ken? What are you thinking?" I ask. Ken snaps out of his reverie and replies, "I don''t know everything, but I heard the old man talking about something like this concerning our turf as well. He was saying that it could stop the Host from encroaching no matter what the Council said." After pausing for a moment to glare at Celeste, Ken continues, "The other old guys that hang out with Dad didn''t seem to like the idea though. No idea why. They were saying that this idea should only be used as a last resort." Master pipes up, "Who put Nicholas up to this? No way he has the balls to perform this stunt without someone backing him." Inspector Scott replies, "Marshal Yvonne St Clair was the one who brought Nicholas to the Conclave. The P5 thinks that all this was her idea."If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I look at Rose and she shakes her head at me, completely confused at what Inspector Scott and Master are saying. I raise my hand and protest, "Could someone actually explain what is going on here?" Inspector Scott and Master share a glance before turning to regard us both. "You were their tutor. You want to handle this?" Inspector Scott asks Master. Master shrugs and looks at Rose and I, "Pay attention bad students. Master is going to give you a crash course in history." ... Master clears her throat and begins, "As my bad students already know, they descended from the first batch of demons that showed up on earth. The Iron Octopus guys. Those were the days when demons kicked so much ass. North, south, east, west. No matter where you looked, you just couldn''t escape our awesomeness. We were really going to win it you know. If not for-" Inspector Scott noisily clears her throat, cutting Master off. Master stops her narration for a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing, "Right. Fast forward to the end of the war and we had the Iron Octopus government overthrown by a new German government correct? Peace treaties were signed, once conquered territories were handed back, everyone was supposed to live happily ever after." "Only problem is, the Iron Octopus cut a deal with the Legion when they asked for support. Territory conquered by demons would be handed over to the Legion with local governors doing the actual legwork in the meantime. Meaning that when the new German government signed back those conquered territories, they were handing over stuff that didn''t actually belong to them." "When the Legion showed up on earth, they refused to acknowledge the treaties signed by the new German government and demanded the return of their territory. These are the historical claims Nicholas has been talking about. Claims that include your inheritance, Tensei." Master stops here, giving me a significant look. I frown, complaining, "I still don''t get it." Inspector Scott takes over the explanation, "What your Master is saying is that the Legion is claiming all land previously conquered by the Iron Octopus as its territory, regardless of present day fact. This includes all of your Uncle''s lands since the von Amsterg territory was founded during the Iron Octopus Crisis. By supporting the Legion''s claims, Nicholas is signalling that he is willing to handover all of Gustav''s land to the Legion in exchange for being recognized as the rightful heir and granted the position of governor. Our guess is that the Legion has already accepted the proposal and is just waiting for Nicholas to lock himself in with the press statement." Rose jumps to her feet and shouts, "Father will never accept this! Nicholas is crazy if he thinks that this plan would succeed!" Master shakes her head, "Gustav can''t openly defy the Conclave on this. The historical claims are a red line for the Legion, they will never formally renounce these territories. If he shuts Nicholas down, the Legion would immediately withdraw their recognition of him as prince of Europe. The consequences would be far more severe than what Gustav is willing to deal with." "Which brings us back to you Tensei." Inspector Scott says, "You''re Gustav''s only hope of keeping Nicholas at bay. As long as you can inherit from your father and keep his noble line alive, the Legion will not be able to completely annul the princedom of Europe. Gustav''s people will have a chance of living free, instead of being pawns in whatever scheme Nicholas has bought into." "How about Rose? Can''t she do the exact same thing as well?" I protest. Inspector Scott responds, "Rose''s to be married out of the family right? To the Haqims I heard. That automatically disqualifies her from inheriting the princedom from Gustav, and by extension, the family land." Rose grabs my hand and holds it tight. I understand. To secure her freedom, I cannot run away from fighting Nicholas. "Who is this Marshal anyway?" I ask Inspector Scott. "We met her the other night at the manor. You remember that vampire? That''s her." Inspector Scott says. I blink in surprise. A young girl is a marshal of the Legion? Its hard to believe. "She''s much older than she looks. So don''t get any ideas." Sera quickly cuts in. I rub the back of my head and smile ruefully, "All this is a lot to take in." Sera smiles and says, "You''re not alone Tensei. I''m here for you, no matter what." Kira happily smiles, "Me too! You helped me before, so I won''t let you face all this by yourself. I know some of the higher ups in the Host. They can probably throw some support your way." Ken smirks, "The fight has started, and I''m not going to back out now. I''m with you, whether you like it or not." Master''s grin becomes so broad that it looks like its about to split her face into two, "My bad student is facing a powerful foe. He will need ... special training." "Which will be provided by SOPO." Inspector Scott immediately interrupts, "Don''t you have a job of your own to do anyway?" Master just sticks her tongue out at Inspector Scott in response. "I can''t do much, but I will try my best as well Tensei!" says Celeste with her tiny fists balled up and a determined look on her face. Rose squeezes my hand again and smiles in gratitude. My precious friends. I would not be here without them. And with them by my side, I am sure that we would be able to face anything. Under The Shadow of Heaven "Piss off!" a scraggly looking bum shouts at the impassive guards that had surrounded the motley collection of abandoned and half-demolished buildings. I covered my nose from the stench arising from the site, a disgusting odor that smelled like stale piss and shit, and quickly walked past. If the guards were feeling disgusted from the sights and smells that were in front of them, they were professional enough not to give any signs. I had opted to spend my free time taking in the sights of the Six Trees District, the alleged source of the funding for Nicky''s militia. While it seemed like a good idea in retrospect, getting to see things at the ground level, I was rapidly regretting my decision to come here. The source of my regret was the pigpen in front of me, known to the locals as The Squat. The irony of it all was that most of what I knew about The Squat came from chatting up the bartender at one of the local dives and generally playing tourist. There was really no need to subject my senses to the unpleasantness of it all. As The Voice had told me earlier, Six Trees District was handed over to the Host for the purpose of redevelopment. The bartender I had pumped for information confirmed this piece of intelligence and added that the prime mover for this takeover was a petition launched by the residents of the District themselves. They had become unhappy with how the local gangs had entrenched themselves in the District and the generally low class of business and person those gangs brought with them. Dive bars, adult entertainment, shops dealing in merchandise of dubious legality and apparently nastier stuff was available at Six Trees District. You just needed to know where to find it. The kings of this shit heap were the Matsui family, the crime family Delinquent belonged to. They controlled the District from the shadows. The council may reign, but as far as Six Trees District was concerned, the Matsuis ruled. The smaller gangs were basically their errand boys. As for the police and what they were doing about this situation, like everything else in The City, things were complicated. Six Trees might have become a cesspit of human waste, but it served a vital function. It provided a place for the human waste to go. Not everyone could afford to send their children to Unity Academy. The City had attracted plenty of refugees and jobless demobbed soldiers in the early years. Not everyone could make it big. Scratch that, not everyone could get by. Plenty of those guys fell through the cracks and wound up in Six Trees, to the annoyance of the original residents. This situation shaped how ORPO handled policing in Six Trees. ORPO would launch raids against the gangs to shut down the more exploitative rackets and generally slap them around to show who is really in charge. But there was no actual interest in taking the gangs out. As long as the Matsuis kept the shit from leaking out of their shit heap, ORPO generally allowed the Matsuis to play at being the rooster. The Matsuis were allowed strut around and make a nuisance of themselves, as long as they remembered that ORPO could send them to the chopping block anytime they became too inconvenient. Contrary to popular belief, the Matsuis also had a fair amount of support in Six Trees as well. The rackets run by the Matsuis not only printed money for the gang, but also kept plenty of residents fed. The grotty rooms available for rent in the District allowed many people to have a roof over their head. And the relaxed attitude towards law enforcement in the District meant that it was a safe refuge for inhabitants with more colorful pasts. To get around the resistance of the Matsuis and the people dependent on them, the original residents petitioned for the District to be handed over to the Host for the purpose of redevelopment. What made the Host bite was the fact that Six Trees was located really close to the base of Ascension Tower. The Host had been buying up land for the purpose of supporting their tower with additional buildings and for general property development. Ultimately, the Host intended for Ascension Tower become the focal point of an entire self-contained township that spanned multiple districts. This made the land in Six Trees really valuable. The plan the original residents and the Council had agreed on was this. The Matsui territory, housing their businesses and assorted hangers on would be acquired by The City at a low price and handed over to the Host. The original residents would then be bought off with cash and new property to be built by the Host in the District. After all that was done, the entire place would be razed and the Host would add another few blocks of high end property to their growing township. Everyone goes home happy. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Everyone but the Matsuis and the unwashed masses of course. As far as the original residents were concerned, the Host was free to bulldoze those guys into the sea. The Matsuis naturally disagreed, and that was what led to the creation of The Squat. Originally a large collection of low rise buildings, when the District was handed over to the Host, the Host began evicting the locals and demolishing the neighborhood. The Matsuis didn''t take kindly to that and began packing the place with their enforcers and all the other gangsters they could get their hands on. Scuffles began to take place between the Host and the Matsuis, but the demolition continued nevertheless. From what the locals told me, things only got really ugly when some kind of agreement was reached between ORPO and the Matsuis. Bums and other assorted homeless guys began showing up in the neighborhood, clearly having been shipped in by some party. The bums kept showing up and ORPO turned a blind eye as the entire neighborhood became a giant colony for the homeless. The City had originally given the Host a free hand with the redevelopment, but the sight of literal angels beating up the homeless proved a bit too much to swallow. The redevelopment was halted until a solution to the bums could be found. In the meantime, the Host had decided to cut electricity and water to the homeless colony, hoping that the discomfort would drive away the bum army occupying the land. The Host clearly had no idea what the homeless was willing to put up with and all they accomplished The Squat coming into being. Moving on from The Squat, I look over the part of the site that had already been cleared out. The Host had wasted no time in leveling the area and were now in the process of new construction. A large hole had been excavated into the ground with a gentle sloping path cut into it meant for vehicles. Trucks carrying building materials arrive regularly at the site while forklifts accompanied by workers trundle into the hole bearing sealed crates. Were they laying infrastructure? Who knows. My attention is drawn back to The Squat where a number of armored personnel carriers bearing the word "RAU" have pulled up next to it. Troops pile out of the carriers and assemble behind the guards the Host had posted. In response, the bums stop shouting and instead sit down en masse. Using a bull horn, the RAU troopers identify themselves as police and demand that the bums disperse to no avail. The guards and RAU then march into The Squat and begin trying to haul the bums away. The bums on their part initially resist by refusing to get up from the ground. As the struggle between both sides goes on, more and more bums begin emerging from the buildings and they grab onto to the guys resisting eviction as well as each other, creating an unmovable morass. The guards and police battle futilely against the unmovable object before eventually giving up and returning to the perimeter of The Squat. Just as I am about to leave, a limo drives up to The Squat and parks next to the APCs. A pair of figures disembark from the limo, a man and a woman, both of them fairly strong from their respective spiritual nimbus that I detect. Both figures walk up to what I presume to be the leader of the guards and begin an animated conversation with him. They''re too far away for me to listen in though. Pity. Could have been interesting. What gets my attention is the blond and curly haired man, or rather angel, as the sparkles around him attest. I had seen plenty of spiritual fields in my time on this world. Weak, strong and in between. This is however the first time that I have seen anyone who was one hundred percent nimbus. Its as if his physical body does not exist and was merely a magical projection generated by the field. Not that it seems to inconvenience this guy though. He interacts just fine with everyone around him, the projected body being no different from the real deal. A unique technique? Where was his physical body then? Does he even have one? The woman idly looks around as the man converses with the guards, taking in The Squat. Again, she is too far away for me to make out her features, only that she is human, wears a pricey looking striped business suit and has her brown hair neatly tied in a ponytail. But I keep getting this nagging feeling that I have seen her somewhere before. That I should know who she is. The woman''s eyes sweep the area methodically and for a brief moment, we look directly at each other. She spazzes out like usual but quickly snaps out of it. A look of complete surprise forms on the woman''s face, her mouth hanging open. She immediately begins to make her way towards my direction with urgent strides. Looks like I''ve been spotted. Better not take any chances. I quickly blend into the crowd around me and allow them to carry me away from the woman. I take a glance backwards and see the woman struggling to catch up with me. She loses patience and begins shoving people out of her way in an effort to reduce the distance between us. Cries of protest rise up from behind me. I relentlessly press deeper into the crowd and soon reach the black cab waiting patiently by the side of the road. Just in time. I get in and the cab takes me away. Priority Alert The black cab drops me off at the entrance of the apartment and I disembark carrying the bag of hot wings that I had bought on the way back. Ever since The Voice had begun spawning me money, I have been taking the opportunity to eat out whenever possible instead of subjecting myself to The Voice''s "cooking", if you could call it that. After being chased around the Six Trees District by that crazy lady, I fully deserve a treat. After Nicky''s attack on the campus, SOPO had been swarming about for the past few days combing over the main hall and interviewing witnesses. It was only earlier this morning that they had finally packed up their stuff and left. I had conveniently made myself scarce whenever SOPO investigators came around and left Alley to handle it by herself. Thanks to her, I had an alibi confirming that I was at the concert at the material time and was one of the innocents swept up in the chaos. SOPO was however more interested in how Brocon got returned to the Academy. From communications intercepted by The Voice, Brocon''s abrupt disappearance from the manor and the discovery of Trietel''s bloody carcass has caused SOPO to have a panic attack. There was much distress as SOPO internally debated on how to explain to the P5 that Brocon managed to get herself kidnapped not once, but twice, in the same night. Brocon''s sudden reappearance at the Academy solved that problem, but it raised several uncomfortable questions. Alley stuck to the story I had fed her while being interviewed by the investigators. The investigators also did not pursue the matter further with her since it was clear that Alley didn''t really no much about what had happened. The Voice had also cleaned up the scene where I fought Trietel, meaning that SOPO was not finding any traces of my presence there. Brocon was also of no help to the investigation, having been sedated throughout the whole ordeal. The SOPO investigation quickly ran into a dead end. For all the doubts and questions the police had, there was no way to answer them. A file was opened on the murder of Trietel and the second kidnapping of Brocon, but with no leads or other information, those cases were going to be sent to cold storage in short order. The decision was made by the police to keep the presence and activity of this unknown third party secret from the public. All I needed to do was keep my head down for the time being and let the storm pass. Which is fine by me. Loafing around is the easiest assignment I had so far. I unlock the door to the apartment and walk in to find the laptop turned on. Looks like my downtime is just about over. Just as I was getting used to freely using the cab as I wished too. I begin to unpack the hot wings in the kitchen and pile them up on a plate. With the plate in hand, I pull out the chair in front of the laptop and make myself comfortable. "So what''s up?" I ask, taking a big bite of the chicken wing in my hand. The laptop displays the video feed from one of the drones that I had helped deploy in the sarcophagus. Its shuffling down an air duct when all of a sudden the camera feed cuts out, filling the screen with static. A few seconds later, the feed comes back online, but this time the drone is heading in the opposite direction. The drone turns back around and heads towards its original destination when the same thing happens again. Its as if there is an invisible line that the drone cannot cross. I make a puzzled noise in my throat and take another bite from the hot wing. No idea what is going on here. The Voice, without bothering with any preamble, rasps, "What you are seeing is the live feed from one of the drones I have sweeping the sarcophagus. From the video footage and the drone''s behavior, I have determined how the mystery item has been hidden from my sight. Fate has set up a place of power in the sarcophagus and the mystery item has been stored within it." "What makes you say that?" I ask. The Voice replies, "The moment the drone passes a certain point in the shaft, my control over it is immediately broken. The drone''s Artificial Intelligence then takes over and recalls the drone back to the hub for redeployment. Once the drone passes over that point in the shaft once again, my control over it is immediately restored. I have detected no signs of damage and tampering on the drone. That leaves only one possibility, Fate has set up its place of power in that location." Interesting. "Can''t you just force your way through?" I query. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. "No." The Voice grumbles, "Just as Fate cannot enter this apartment or any of my other places of power, the same applies vice versa. I am absolutely incapable of observing or interacting with anything within a place of power under Fate''s control." Figures. The Voice and Fate were gods of the same dimension. It would make sense that they would draw from a shared bag of tricks. I am pretty disappointed though. The Voice''s places of power so far have been a dingy room, this apartment and an abandoned store. Fate on the other hand has an underwater base. The Voice should really give more thought to upgrading the facilities. "Nevertheless, such a petty trick is not enough to keep me at bay." The Voice continues smugly, "I have cross-checked the building plans for the sarcophagus with the drones'' progress. By using the air vents to probe around the edges of where I suspect Fate''s place of power is located, I have managed to map out what I believe to be the said place of power." A map of the sarcophagus appears on the laptop''s screen with a portion of it highlighted red. From the map, I reckon that the space Fate is occupying is one of the shelters that were built into the sarcophagus during The City''s construction. The shelter''s size also meant that there might be plenty of goons guarding the mysterious mcguffin. Probably too many for me to handle. "What about the monorail? Was anyone going in or going out?" I query. The Voice rumbles, "No. I suspect that Fate''s minions detected the presence of the drones and decided to hole themselves up in the place of power. As I cannot interact with any of the physical locked doors separating the place of power from the rest of the sarcophagus, Fate''s minions probably believe that they can rely on the sarcophagus''s life support systems and stockpiled food to keep themselves alive while they wait us out." "Damn. If only the vents weren''t so small. Seems like a good means of accessing the place of power otherwise." I muse. "We are thinking the same," The Voice says, "I have also figured out a way to make use of the vents against our enemies." The map on the laptop screen scrolls over to what is marked as an air purification center. The Voice then highlights the vents connecting the air purification facility with the shelter. "In order to save on cost, life support in the sarcophagus is centralized. While there were complaints about the perceived weakness of this design, it was eventually determined that the risk was minimal. Any attacker that could get past the sarcophagus''s armored exterior would be too much for any of the inhabitants to handle, regardless of how life support was configured." "You want me to hit the air purification center?" I ask. "Not directly." The Voice elaborates, "Damaging the air purification center would affect the entire sarcophagus. There would be no way for me to hide such an event. It would only be a matter of time before The City is alerted and the police breathing down your neck. You will need to sabotage the life support system in such a way that only Fate''s place of power is affected." "The life support systems are outfitted with sensors that can detect chemical and bacteriological threats. Once such a threat has been detected, the vents to the shelter will be sealed to prevent the danger from spreading and the shelter will rely on built-in oxygen scrubbers to keep its inhabitants alive until the threat is dealt with." The map on the laptop screen now scrolls back to the hub where I had originally deployed the drones. The Voice continues, "Thanks to you, I have broad control over the sarcophagus''s systems through the hub. I will prepare a software update for the air purification center. This update will remove certain substances from the list that will trigger a lock down if detected by the life support system. As the sarcophagus uses a closed system, I cannot perform this update remotely. You will need to do it for me through the hub when I take you back to the sarcophagus." Alright. Sounds easy enough. The Voice rasps as several specific locations on the vents are highlighted on the map, "Once that is done, you will need to perform certain modifications to the vents to allow us to pump the shelter full of toxin and keep the rest of the sarcophagus unaffected. These modifications are not difficult to do, but given the nature of the task, I would only feel comfortable if you were handling it personally. I expect you to take several days to complete this part of the mission." "Finally," The Voice concludes, "several canisters of toxin cocktail will be spawned and hooked up to the vents. The blinded life support system will be unable to stop our attack on Fate''s place of power. Fate''s minions will be left with two choices, remain holed up and die, or attempt to flee through the sarcophagus, allowing us to intercept them. Any questions?" "Nope. I''ve gotten the idea of what you''ve been saying." I reply. "One more thing Transmigrator," The Voice suddenly interrupts, "make sure you have completed everything you want to do in the Dreaming Spires District before heading back into the sarcophagus." What? Do you realize how ominous you sound right now? Am I nearing a chapter ending mission? "I sense that we stand on the edge Transmigrator. Our next move may very well change everything entirely. Be prepared." The Voice warns. Nope. Not ominous at all. Your warning would also make more sense if there were actually side quests to complete in this world. Take notes Voice. "Take one more day off." The Voice says, "I will need that time to prepare the needed supplies. After that, we set the wheels of destiny in motion." Party In The Streets I brush the snow of my jacket and lean lazily against the wall of a rundown building, watching the bums of The Squat jeer at the guards impassively surrounding the site. As to why I had decided to spend my last day off back at The Squat, it had to do with The Voice''s warning yesterday. While I had originally made light of the warning in my heart, the more I thought about what The Voice had said, the more uneasy I became. This was a world with "paths" and "routes" governing the destinies of its inhabitants. If The Voice had taken the trouble to inform me that there were going to be big changes in the route I was travelling on, that meant that whatever those changes were, it was not something I could afford to treat lightly. I wanted to face those changes with every possible advantage in my hand. The consequence of going in unprepared was not just missing out on some online trophies. It meant possibly getting myself killed. I had asked The Voice about what it knew about those changes that we would be facing once we threw down against Fate in the sarcophagus. Unfortunately, what it told me was not particularly helpful. The Voice was not particularly skilled in anything involving living beings, and that included predicting the movements of the constellations at the Crossroads. That was the reason why we had almost been blindsided by the new destiny prepared by Fate for the Hero. All The Voice could currently glean from the constellations was that instead of trying to eliminate the Hero outright, Fate had doubled down on creating possible forks in his destiny. This made sense from a certain point of view. The Hero had been designed by The Voice to be tough and ultimately unstoppable. I had asked The Voice who would win, if I fought the Hero at his peak. The Voice''s answer was simple. If everything was equal, Gallant''s body would explode from the stress before I managed to defeat the Hero, even though I had the theoretical strength to win. By presenting the Hero with bogus choices in his destiny, Fate would get round the Hero''s biggest advantage, his immense personal strength. Using this method, Fate might even be able to co-opt the Hero in derailing his own destiny. Attacking Fate''s place of power would introduce a huge variable in the movement of the constellations, and The Voice was nowhere near skilled enough in future sight to help me navigate the turmoil. There was also another problem that worried me. Preparing for the mission would require me to be absent from the campus for at least a week. During this period, I had no way of intervening in the Hero''s affairs if Fate made another go at sending him down a new route. I suppose that I could always scramble out of the sarcophagus if things became really that dire, but the transit times involved would put me at a disadvantage. There would be no way for me to prepare in advance and stand by for action like what I did during Nicky''s raid on the Academy. These worries led me to spending the morning keeping track of the Hero using The Voice''s surveillance web. By now, the Hero had been discharged from hospital and was back living and attending classes at the campus. I had been expecting, or rather hoping, that the Hero would settle back into his regular everyday routine of going to school, but my hopes were immediately dashed when I observed the Hero meeting up with the Idol and leaving the campus in a chauffeured car. Well, for all I knew, they might be going for a date. The Hero needed to get those relationship scores up to fulfill his destiny after all. My hopes were dashed a second time when The Voice told me that based on the route the car was taking, the Hero and the Idol were most likely on their way to The Squat. Unless either of them had a fetish for grime and odor, the objective of their excursion was not likely to be just for the sake of deepening their feelings for each other. So we come back to why I am loitering about in the cold. I had guessed that the presence of the Hero and one of the Heroines meant that something was probably going to go down at The Squat today, and it looks like I may be right. Those RAU troopers from yesterday had begun showing up again in their armored vehicles, far more of them this time compared to before. I have caught occasional glimpses of the Hero and the Idol hanging out at behind the guards and troopers, waiting for something. Whatever reason they are here for, it most likely has something to do with the Squat itself. My patience is eventually rewarded when a large truck drives up to The Squat and parks itself behind RAU''s APCs. Workers begin to unpack the truck''s trailer, revealing that the trailer doubles as a makeshift stage. The workers start setting up a generator set, speakers and various musical instruments for a band on the stage. The Idol nervously paces about the stage a few times while the Hero follows beside her, occasionally saying a few words. The Idol finally stops her aimless pacing and the Hero takes the opportunity to give her a head pat, causing the Idol to blush and smile happily. I can''t hear what the Idol says in response, but the Hero sheepishly smiles and rubs the back of his head. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. I shake my head ruefully at the sight try my best not to instinctively cringe. The Hero''s going to do his hero thing I suppose. No sense complaining about it if that is all part of the plan. More worryingly, I have a good guess as to why the Idol is here. Helping the Host clear out the bums with her magic screeching made sense on the surface, but that ignored the fact that this redevelopment project was bankrolling Nicky as well. Did the Hero and the Idol simply not know the true nature of this project? "Hey," I ask The Voice, "why didn''t you drop all the evidence you had about Nicky''s connection to this redevelopment thing on the police? It looks like the Hero and the Idol have been ensnared in working against their own interests here." The Voice rasps, "SOPO already knows about the connection, or more accurately, the top echelon of SOPO knows. So does the leadership of the Council. The Host may not be as outwardly aggressive as the Legion in advancing their interests, but they are old hands in the art of political corruption." "No shit." I mutter, "You''re saying that Fate has gotten an entire branch of the cops and The City government on its side?" "Not in the least," The Voice responds, "I do not believe that SOPO and the Council knows about the shadow war being fought between Fate and myself. They most likely believe the funds are being used to disrupt and cause chaos in the von Amsterg succession, something that fits well with the Host''s interests. The P5 however would be deeply disappointed if they knew about SOPO''s negligence in allowing Nicholas become an even more dangerous contender for the throne though." I think for a moment before replying, "So you did do something with the evidence after all." "Yes," The Voice rumbles, "the evidence was sent to Commander Hernandez of ORPO. Whether or not he does anything with it is out of my control, but in my opinion, he is the party most likely to interfere in any arrangements made by the Host. We shall just have to wait and see what happens in the future." Well, here''s hoping then. In the meantime, more APCs with the RAU insignia pull up at The Squat and troopers outfitted for action begin piling out of the vehicles. Several large black trucks also arrive with the APCs. Looks like something big is going down today. Whoever is in charge of this project has obviously tired of the bums shitting the place up. "I could go up to the Hero and tell his about it right now. Get him to stop this nonsense." I suggest. "Would the Hero believe the word of a random, possibly mentally unstable, teacher who has absolutely no connection with the Idol, the police or the Host?" The Voice questions. "Good point." I concede, "Still, wouldn''t be better if I was working in closer cooperation with the Hero instead of lurking in the shadows? Being at the Hero''s side has obvious advantages. It would also be easier to keep him on the straight and narrow." The Voice laughs and says, "That would be true if we were working towards the same ultimate goal as the Hero. However, I doubt that one of the Hero''s goals in life is being murdered by a member of his harem. Trust me, if you stayed around the Hero for any extended length of time, Fate would find a way to alert the Hero to your true objective. Being around the Hero would only put your own safety in danger." That''s right. Trietel had said that he knew of The Voice''s plan. I would be outed by one of Fate''s people sooner or later. "Come to think about it, if Fate has worshipers, that means that it can communicate with the locals right? How does Fate manage that?" I question. The Voice makes an annoyed noise before answering, "Through dreams, revelations, spiritual experiences and the like. As the governing power over souls, Fate has many ways to disguise its instructions as something more significant that they really are. Thankfully, I had worked out a way of blocking off most of Fate''s ranting from the ears of the natives." "How did you manage that?" I query. The Voice says, "Through food. Most kinds of food qualify as inanimate objects and are therefore subject to my power. I plant a directive of my own in every meal served up on this world, blocking the diners from hearing what Fate tells them. Only the most spiritually sensitive of the natives can overcome my directive and receive Fate''s call. Unfortunately, this also means that Fate''s recruits are invariably people of capability and substance. Still, this outcome is preferable to the alternative of Fate drafting an army against me." By now, the band has finished setting up under the protection of the RAU troopers and the Idol takes her position at the center of the stage. The Hero stands by the side of the stage, looking on protectively at her. The bums sense that something is up and they assume their massive sit down formation and await the troopers to make the next move. Then the music plays, and the show begins. Weapon of Murder The music starts up and the Idol''s warbling morphs into the familiar screech as her spirit core surges and pushes out towards The Squat. The grumbling crowd of bums immediately quiets down and begins staring attentively at the Idol. The RAU troopers begin to fan out and move towards the crowd cautiously, gauging their reaction to the Idol''s magic. The Idol has also grown far stronger compared to what I had observed from the her previous rehearsals with Trietel. Her spiritual field now easily swallows up the crowd in front of her and the waves of spirit energy possess much greater intensity. "Has the Idol come into her power?" I ask The Voice. The Voice rumbles, "Hardly. What you are seeing is a mere fragment of Heroine Majima''s full potential. Once she reaches her full power, she would be capable of immobilizing all the inhabitants of The City without issue." I whisper back, "That''s way too overpowered. What use would the Idol have for such an ability?" The Voice explains, "Each of the Heroines fulfill a function with regard to the Hero''s ascension. Heroine von Amsterg represents raw power. Her spirit core has been tuned to maximize the effectiveness of damage dealing spells and her role is to assist the Hero in subduing the recalcitrant members of his family as well as the elites of the three great powers that may oppose the Hero''s ascension. Heroine Naiberg has been designed as the Hero''s protector. She has massive reserves of stamina and will eventually attain resilience to damage beyond the capability of any of the world''s natives." "And what is the Idol''s function? Other than killing the Hero that is." I query. "Heroine Majima is the Hero''s social interface. There are many regular citizens in the von Amsterg territory who would object to the Hero''s ascension due to his angelic heritage. Heroine Majima''s main function is to placate them and eventually turn these people over to the Hero''s side." The Voice replies. "I witnessed some of the fight involving Hero and friends as well as that loli vampire at the manor the other night. Magic Police Girl is not as powerful as you describe." I rebut, "The Idol also got taken out pretty quickly by Trietel." The Voice sighs, "An unfortunate side effect of a decision I had made during the design of the Hero and the Heroines. If the Hero and the Heroines came into their power too early in their lives, Fate would notice and eliminate them before the Hero and his companions were ready for such a conflict. To prevent that from happening, I had locked most of their powers away until certain preconditions were met." "For the Hero," The Voice continues, "The condition was simply engaging in battle and challenging himself. As I had originally allowed the Hero to wield a modest amount of strength, I was confident that any conflict he got himself involved in would not be too serious and not result in his premature death. From that point, the Hero would begin to scale up until he fully unlocks all the enhancements I had provided him with." "With regard to the Heroines, the condition I had set was that they had to come into contact with the Hero first. Once that happened, their powers would be gradually unlocked as a matter of course, keeping pace with the rate of the Hero''s advancement. This allows all three Heroines to be consistently useful to the Hero, preventing any one of them from being sidelined. The specialization of the individual Heroines would also force the Hero to act in close cooperation with all of them, guiding him down the harem path that I had planned." "The problem the Hero and the Heroines are experiencing now is due to Fate accelerating its schedule. The Hero, and by extension the Heroines, did not have enough time to unlock the full extent of their powers. As I cannot communicate directly with the Hero and the Heroines, I also cannot alter the settings that had been originally installed as part of their bodies." I nod and ask, "Is the Hero stronger than the Heroines?" "Overall? Yes." The Voice answers, "Though each of the Heroines are stronger in their area of specialization."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "Then how is the Idol supposed to whack the Hero? He is going to become stronger than her after all." I shoot back. That was the question I really wanted an answer to. The Voice rasps, "You are looking at it right now. All the Heroines are unconsciously driven by the objectives I had planted in them and will take action to bring my plan to fruition. Heroine Majima, at her own initiative, has learned a form of magic that both synergizes well with her spirit core and can immobilize people without a fight. Guess how long the Hero will last once Heroine Majima has gotten her claws into him." I shudder. Scary. Way too scary. The Hero is bearing witness to the method of his eventual murder and judging by his facial expression, is actually enjoying it. It goes to show that ignorance is truly bliss. The Idol is well into her routine by now and is prancing up and down on stage, screeching all the way. She occasionally flashes coy glances at the Hero that gets him blushing furiously and awkwardly scratching the back of his head. The bum army is also getting really into the show, shouting and dancing in unison with the Idol, ignoring the RAU troopers that have been slowly drawing closer to them. It looks like the magic has done its thing. The RAU troopers begin putting the bums in handcuffs and leading them to the lorries. The bums are far too distracted by the Idol''s performance to bother with the fact that they are being arrested and allow themselves to be led away without putting up a fight. In this way, the troopers begin to gradually thin the crowd of bums and it is only a matter of time before the entire Squat is cleaned out. Things are not looking good. Anything that helps Nicky is something that hurts the Hero, and by extension me. I''m going to have to do something if the Hero continues to be too busy ogling the Idol. "How much damage can the Idol safely take?" I ask The Voice. "Plenty. I designed the Heroines to last." The Voice says, "What are you planning, Transmigrator?" I begin prying a loose brick from the wall that I am hiding behind. I don''t have access to any of my equipment with me now, so I''ll just have to get creative with solutions. I activate the core and some of the bums nearby lethargically turn to look at me. Well, here goes nothing. I pump spirit energy into my arm and pitch the brick straight at the Idol as she is in the middle of a dance move. The brick smacks her right in the face and she loses her balance, toppling onto the ground. The band immediately stops playing and the only sound heard is the Idol crying loudly as she recovers from the shock. With the spell broken, the bums immediately notice the RAU troopers trying to arrest them and rise to their feet with a roar of outrage. The bums charge forward with their fists raised while the guys that had already been carted off to the lorries begin to attack the troopers that were watching over them. The Hero rushes towards the Idol and sweeps her up in a tight embrace, comforting her and escorting her to the back of the APCs. Wasn''t this how the Hero and the Idol got acquainted with each other at first? He rescued her from a public event gone wrong if I recall correctly. Go grab those relationship points Hero. No need to thank me. The RAU troopers among the bums are quickly overwhelmed and the bum horde begins raucously moving towards the APCs. A second group of troopers armed with riot shields and batons hastily assembles in formation and move to block the advancing crowd. The bums begin pelting the troopers with stones, bricks and whatever assorted garbage they can get their hands on. The APCs roar to life and trundle forward as the troopers hide behind their shields. The turrets of the APCs swing towards the crowd and release geysers of water, driving the bums back. The troopers begin lobbing grenades over their shields and which release massive flashes of light as they explode with earsplitting noise. Chemically laced water and flash bangs. Looks like the police have decided to go in hard after their gambit using the Idol failed. As the bum army falters disorientated, the troopers baton charge them and the mauling begins. The bums attempt to put up a fight, but it soon becomes clear that they are being cleared out of The Squat today, one way or the other. The APCs keep moving forward, corralling the bums and preventing them from escaping. I shut off the core and retreat through the narrow side streets, leaving The Squat. Nothing more I can do here. If I stay any longer, the troopers would corner me as well. Even if I fought them using my powers, I doubt that I would be able to stop the eviction anyway. There''s simply too may of those troopers to beat down. Looks like Nicky is going to win this one. As I reach the black cab, The Voice makes a surprised noise. "What happened?" I ask. "I do not know." The Voice responds, mystified, "You did something back there, introduced a new variable into the Crossroads. The constellations are moving very erratically. Whatever you did is interacting very oddly with the forks Fate had built into the Hero''s destiny." "Is that good or bad?" I say with a lump in my throat. "We will just have to see." The Voice replies, completely bewildered, as the cab drives away. The Price of Freedom The morbidly obese man stumbles backwards, retreating further into the attic. At the door is I, Catriona Alley, flanked by a pair of beefy orderlies from the reservation. We advance upon the quivering fat man who was once my husband as he shrinks into a corner. "Cat, Cat, what''s going on? Tell those men to go away. Tell them to go away!" The fat man shrieks desperately. I just make an exasperated gesture at the fat man and the orderlies move forward and grab him by the armpits before hauling him out of the attic. "Its alright, Jacob." I say as gently as possible, "These men are here to help you. They''re going to bring you to a place that will make you all better." Jacob struggles futilely against the pair of orderlies shouting, "I can''t go out, you know that! People will kill me! The sun will kill me!" "That''s the reason why we are doing this at night Jacob." I reply tiredly, "You''re going away from The City to a place that will be safe. Wouldn''t you like that Jacob? It going to be like a holiday." Upon hearing this Jacob stops struggling and quietens down. The orderlies continue dragging him in silence towards the front door of the Alley residence. As Jacob''s body is turned away from me, I take the opportunity to shake my head and let out a sigh of relief. Years. I have been dealing with Jacob for years. And finally the end was in sight, provided by the least likely source no less. I let my mind wander, relieving the events that led up to this day. ..... I had married Jacob just after the Millennium War. The days during the war were desperate for both of us and everyday might have been our last. The Millennium War brought the angels and demons to earth, and with them came all manner of new diseases. Most civilian deaths during the war were not brought on by violence, but by the various newly discovered pathogens tearing through the human population. Most of the people we knew were killed in this way, as we moved back forth across the changing borders as refugees. Thankfully, by the time the truce rolled around, it seemed that the situation had been brought under control and humans would not drop dead just from contact with either angels or demons. Looking back, we had rushed the marriage not because we were deeply in love, but because we both wanted companionship with all the death and chaos surrounding us. Marriage was the most convenient choice to fill an urgent emotional need. After marrying, we decided to settle in The City, that was where all the good opportunities were after all. I obtained a position with Unity Academy and began climbing the ranks. Jacob became a fairly successful businessman. It was an unexceptional but comfortable existence. Nevertheless, within a few years into the marriage I was greeted by a rude surprise. Jacob had become infected with vampirism. Of course, the first question I had was just how did Jacob get infected by vampirism in the first place. It was common knowledge that vampirism could only be transmitted by physical contact with a carrier. Not that it took much guessing on my part to work out the answer, despite Jacob''s refusal to speak of the matter. The spark had gone out of our marriage, not that it ever had much of a spark in the first place. I had known for a long time that Jacob had discovered the wonders of post Millennium War nightlife. I couldn''t be arsed to say anything about it. It was Jacob''s money and he was free to do whatever he wanted with it. Jacob was also entitled to serve himself up on the meat market to any passable looking lady vampire. We were both adults after all. More than anything else, Jacob''s antics kept him out of my hair so that I could continue climbing the greasy totem pole at the Academy without distraction. Our relationship had settled into a kind of mutual indifference where neither party really bothered the other, much like long-term roommates. At first, Jacob''s new status as a vampire did not seem like a particularly big deal. As diseases go, vampirism had surprisingly few drawbacks, especially when compared to the powers a fully mature vampire had. When we were told of Jacob''s condition by the doctors, Jacob was pleased as punch about becoming effectively immortal. The inconvenience of avoiding sunlight was a small price to pay he said. That attitude lasted until the doctors performed a few more tests on Jacob and had him detained by SOPO. The doctors urgently summoned me and in a closed door meeting, informed me that there were complications in Jacob''s condition and he had been deemed incompetent to make any further decisions for himself. Why was that? Jacob seemed perfectly normal just a few days ago. As the doctors helpfully explained to me, while there might be only one strain of vampirism, the disease interacts with the body of each patient differently. How well the patient accommodates the disease determines which of three sub-species of vampire he or she eventually matures into.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. When most people think of vampires, what they are really thinking about are Type A vampires. Vampires that have the full power set. Those vampires were exceedingly rare and highly valued by the Legion. They usually rose to a high place in Legion society and the Legion would not hesitate to grant a Type A vampire living outside of Legion territory citizenship in the hopes of enticing him or her over. Jacob was probably hoping for something like this to happen. More common were the Type B vampires. These fellows would suffer all the weaknesses of their condition, but would only gain one specific vampire power, no more. It was the Type B vampires that caused vampirism to be classified as a disease. In this world where magic was common, being able to turn into a flock of bats was a rather unimpressive party trick especially for the heavy cost paid by the vampire in return. I personally learned better techniques in my time at the refugee camps volunteering as part of the militia for a larger share of food. Type C vampires led an outright cursed existence. They had the full vampire power set but the disease would gradually destroy their mind, eventually turning the patient into little more than a wild animal. Jacob had been diagnosed as Type C. It was only a matter of time before he went completely insane. That was the reason why he had been detained and responsibility for his fate was turned over to me. The doctors laid a choice before me, allow The City to euthanize Jacob now, or keep him at my own expense on a lifelong regimen of very expensive medicine used to suppress his condition. Of course, Jacob''s condition would be monitored. Any sign that he was a danger to me or the people around him, immediate euthanasia. The doctors also believed that suppressing his condition just delayed the inevitable. Jacob''s mind would still decay, though with his vampire powers rendered impotent, he would become a nuisance rather than an actual threat. The choice I had to take was clear to me. I no longer loved Jacob. Perhaps I never really loved him. But I had chosen to take responsibility for him the moment we married. No matter what, I would see that duty through. I quickly began to regret my decision. Jacob''s medication was expensive and strained our finances badly. He also quickly descended into paranoia, a symptom of the disease attacking his mind. Jacob''s worsening mental state made it impossible for him to work, so his business was sold off. The money from the sale and my gradual promotions at the Academy eased our financial situation somewhat, but it was not a solution. With Jacob unable to work, we would soon no longer be able to afford his treatments. It was at this time I had learned about the reservations. Officially nature reserves, some of these places would, for a discreet donation, accept hosting a wild vampire on their premises. Obviously illegal, but since the reservations were so far away from civilization, no one cared. At any rate, given enough time, wild vampires would grow to physically resemble animals as well. This allowed the vampires residing on the reservations to become something of an open secret. The problem was the money. I had made contact with one of the reservations and their price was not cheap. They needed to smuggle Jacob out of The City and through the customs at their end of the globe. Wheels needed to be greased. Jacob also needed to be trained on how to survive as an animal in the wild. Keeping Jacob in secret and buying the silence of the zoologists working with him had to be factored into the reservation''s price. There was no way I could afford this while paying for Jacob''s medicine. That was when I made the decision to siphon funds from the Academy. By this time I had become the head of administration. The opportunity was there and my position allowed me to cover my tracks. I thought that no one knew. Until I received the email. The email was anonymously written, the writer, identifying himself as a "friend", just saying that he knew about me stealing from the Academy and I needed to buy his silence by working for him. I was so scared. Discovery would not only destroy me personally, but it would kill Jacob. There would be no chance for him to escape The City. I waited for days. Then weeks. Then months. Finally the months turned to years. The call I was expecting never came. I dismissed the whole thing as a prank by a colleague who suspected what I did but had no proof. Then, out of the blue, I received another email from the "friend" saying the time had come. Greer then showed up, throwing my world upside down. ..... My attention returns to Jacob being dragged out of the front door into a waiting van. I nod in thanks to the orderlies and quickly shut the door. I am sure that Greer has made me an accomplice in some kind of crime. Its clear as day that he has been using me to cover for his more suspicious activities. I had originally thought about just admitting everything to the police and giving Greer up to them. The relief at no longer needing to maintain the deception combined with the look on Greer''s obnoxious face as he is hauled away by the police was certainly very hard to resist. Why didn''t I just do it then? It was originally because of Jacob. Greer had made it clear in our first meeting that whoever he was working for was not above taking it out on Jacob if I decided to resist. When Greer later showed up again at my office carrying a bag full of police weapons, the message was clear. Greer had connections to the police. There was no point in me going to them. I was trapped. But being trapped by my "friend" has also allowed me to regain my freedom from Jacob. The money Greer gave me was enough to buy Jacob a place at one of the reservations. My duty to Jacob has been discharged, and we now no longer owe anything to each other. A long standing problem has been resolved. I just need to keep moving forward, and grasping at whatever opportunities present themselves. And perhaps one day, I shall be free of my "friend" as well. The Archmage " - rioters continues to rampage through the Six Trees District for the fourth day running as SOPO and RAU call in all available officers to contain the violence. ORPO''s absence in the District and their refusal to issue a condemnation of the rioters have led to speculation that -" Sera turns off the radio in the self-driving cab with a frown while I think back to what had happened a few days ago. Kira''s management had been contacted by the Council and they had asked that Kira be loaned to them for a day to help clear out the squatters that had taken up residence at the Six Trees District. The people of Six Trees may have won the legal battle through Celeste''s petition, but Ken''s family still had plenty of ways to fight back. The squatters that suddenly showed up had slowed the project to a crawl and the Council needed a bloodless solution. When Kira''s management agreed to the proposal to let her try evicting the squatters with her magic, she was scared that something might happen to her during the event and approached me for help. Thankfully, Ken was still in the hospital, so there were no issues arising from me accompanying Kira to Six Trees. Not that I would have turned Kira down even if Ken was around to object. I had protected her before, and I would do so again. Then during the concert, Kira was attacked by one of the squatters. I managed to get her out of the place before the riot erupted in full force and she thankfully was not badly hurt. When I saw her crying face, anger filled my hurt. Why are people so mean? Why can''t they see that Kira was just trying to help? Now, even more people are getting hurt as the violence rages out of control. Most of all, I was angry at Kira''s management who had put her in such a position. A young girl had no business confronting an angry mob. The way Kira''s management handled things had also opened up a rift between me and my friends. When Ken heard that I was the one who rescued Kira during the riot, he stopped talking to me. Now, even though he has been released from the hospital, he has stopped coming to class altogether. I heard that he had joined the fighting at Six Trees and was leading a group of rioters against the police. Ms Scott, no Inspector Scott, was pulled out from her assignment at the school by SOPO and ordered to join the fight at Six Trees as well. While I was still upset at her for lying to me about her role as my bodyguard, I was nevertheless worried that she might get seriously hurt fighting the rioters. Inspector Scott had just been discharged from hospital after all, and was nowhere near peak condition. Before she left, Inspector Scott managed to get Sera assigned as my interim bodyguard. It was an arrangement I welcomed. Sera and I are close friends and this way, she can stay safely stay here with me. Noticing Sera''s gloomy expression, I say something to lift the mood, "Its nice to be able to see your dad again after so long. How long will he be staying at The City?" Sera''s face turns even gloomier, "I don''t know. Dad never told me that he was coming to The City. I only contacted his personal assistant after that Master of yours started babbling during the training session that her employer had arranged a meeting with him. You know what I found out? Dad has been here for the past few weeks. He just did not bother to tell either of us." Oh. That''s rather awkward. "Well at least your dad was kind enough to treat us to dinner right?" I say, making another go at lifting Sera''s spirits. Sera pouts and plays with her evening gown, "He had already arranged this dinner date with your Master''s employer. We were only invited after I made a fuss with the personal assistant. Dad was probably tired of my calls and wants to get all his meetings out of the way in one go. If I had not found out about his arrival from your Master, he probably would not have bothered with meeting us at all." That explained why the dinner was taking place at a high class restaurant which required patrons to show up in evening wear. It was hardly the place for a family gathering, but if Sera''s father originally intended this meeting to be for business, it made sense. I gently pat Sera on the shoulder replying, "Well, at the very least, you look wonderful tonight. That''s a win in my book." Sera gives a slight smile and we continue the journey in contented silence. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. .... As the waiter ushers us into the private dining room, I hear a woman''s voice speaking. "Again, I apologize for the inconvenience Archmage. I had originally intended for you to meet with my brother, but he cannot be found at the moment. Once I have located him, rest assured that I will bring him to your new lab." An elderly man''s voice responds, "No inconvenience in the least, the Gallants are friends to me. Forgive me if it seems like I am overstepping here, but I had read from the news that your brother is presumed dead?" I walk into the private room and take in the sight. The restaurant calls it a private dining room, but its more like a conservatory. The room is canopied with cherry blossoms laced with fairy lights while a roaring fireplace keeps out the winter chill. Beneath the cherry blossoms is a single large table where an old, rugged looking man sits, holding court in a plain suit and tie. His face has a ruddy glow to it accompanied with a bushy, unkempt looking beard. The man is broad and would have been in his younger days fairly muscular. In his old age, the muscles are still there, just smothered in fat. His cold eyes flick towards Sera and myself and he nods at both of us. I see Master standing respectfully behind a woman seated at the table. The woman''s features are plain but sharp, giving off a hint of aggression in them. Her long brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail and she wears an expensive looking yellow dress that makes her look even stiffer than she would otherwise. The woman notices us coming into the room but her attention is quickly back on Sera''s father. "He is not dead. I''m sure of it. During my time in The City, I have seen him multiple times. He is just avoiding me." The woman snaps. Master whispers to the woman in a soothing voice, "Boss, now might not be the time -" Boss? Does that mean that this woman is the owner of the company who manages Kira? The woman has a hard look on her face as she reiterates, "He. Is. Not. Dead." Master smiles apologetically at Sera''s father while he just impassively accepts the woman''s statement in silence. Sera takes the break in the conversation as a signal for her to announce her arrival. She walks forward and makes a short bow at her father and I follow her cue. The old man looks on impassively at us before rousing himself again. Sera''s father turns towards the woman and gestures at both of us saying, "My daughter Sera and her friend Tensei." The cold eyes flick back in our direction as he continues, "Ms Gallant from Neo-Cardiff." Both of us bow in Ms Gallant''s direction and she stares at Sera, completely rapt. Master discreetly nudges Ms Gallant and she quickly gathers herself once again and greets us, "Welcome. I''ve heard a lot about you Tensei from my bodyguard. You''re certainly a fine young man. Sera, you are the prodigy that people have been talking about right?" Sera nods in response with a polite smile. Ms Gallant turns back to the Sera''s father and asks, "You have confidence in your work?" Sera''s father returns a smile of his own, "My own daughter is the proof of that confidence. The question is, does the Gallant family have any confidence in me?" The sharp, annoyed tone returns to Ms Gallant''s voice as she replies, "Don''t confuse the conduct of my brother with the rest of the family. We have funded a laboratory for you here in The City. That is a show of good faith from us. When my brother is brought before you, we expect results in return." The Archmage''s face breaks into a big grin and he beckons both Sera and myself to the table. "As they say, the proof is in the pudding," he says, "now let''s eat." .... Sera storms back into her room at the dorms, tears streaming down her face. I hurriedly follow her into the room and quickly shut the door before anyone can see her making a scene. She drops on to the bed and begins crying. "He just wanted me there as an advertisement for his research," Sera sobs, "They treated me like a piece of meat!" I sit next to Sera unsure of what to say. What she had complained of was true. The only saving grace throughout the entire dinner was Master giving us compassionate glances whenever she could. The Archmage and Ms Gallant continued talking business as the dinner progressed. There was an arrangement between both of them where Ms Gallant''s family would partially fund his lab in The City and in return the Archmage would provide a cure of some kind for her missing brother. The Archmage also revealed that the remainder of the funding was being provided through a top secret project he was engaged in, although that matter had been delayed due to logistical complications. Ms Gallant was duly impressed by the Archmage''s credentials and the rest of the dinner progressed in a similar vein with the roles reversed, Sera''s father praising the various achievements of the storied Gallant family. Not long after this, Sera complained she was not feeling well and we were excused. I wanted to confront Ms Gallant for how she had treated both Kira and Sera, but the pained expression on Sera''s face told me now was not the time. Both of us hailed a cab and returned straight to the Academy. Sera suddenly looks at me and asks, "Tensei, you''ll always be at my side right?" "Of course. We came together to The City." I reply, "We''ll reach the end of this journey together." That was my vow to Sera and myself. Together until the end. Whatever it may be. Easy Kill I push the trolley loaded with the last of the poison filled canisters into the waiting monorail and the doors hiss shut behind me. As the monorail glides away from the hub, the canisters gently knock into each other, letting out a rattling noise. I double check the hoses that The Voice had supplied me with in order to hook up the canisters to the air vents. As I hear another rattle coming from the canisters, I can''t help but repeat the question that I had asked earlier today. "You sure that this is safe? The canisters are not going to pop or anything right?" The Voice sighs tiredly, "Canisters do not pop. We have been through this before Transmigrator. You are perfectly safe. Even if the canisters sprung a leak, all you would need to do is activate the core and my power would immunize you to the toxin. Stop worrying over nothing." "I would feel more secure if you had provided clothing that was more suitable, preferably something that included a gas mask or an oxygen tank." I protest. The Voice rumbles in a slightly annoyed tone, "How is your current attire unsuitable? You are indistinguishable from a maintenance technician and the disguise has passed muster multiple times the past week. You had been openly modifying the air vents in full view of the actual sarcophagus technicians and not a single one has questioned you. I fail to see the problem." I take another glance at the canisters before replying, "The problem is that I am now escorting a batch of lethal poison. Big difference from the past few days." The Voice grumbles, "Stealth is our advantage here Transmigrator. No one but us knows the actual contents of the canisters and I intend to keep things that way. If a technician blunders into you outfitted in full NBC gear while setting up the canisters, what do you think will happen? Furthermore the toxin while lethal is slow acting. The aim is to flush Fate''s lackeys from their den after all. They cannot flee if they die too quickly. You will have more than enough time to activate the core if required." I play idly with the hard hat that had come with the technician outfit, grunting in acknowledgement. The Voice had a point, I suppose. "Once the canisters have been set up, when will we begin the attack on Fate''s base?" I query. The Voice responds eagerly, "Immediately. I will remotely release the toxin from the canisters while you wait on standby. Once Fate''s lackeys attempt to flee from the place of power, I will deploy the drones to track them and if necessary, slow their progress. You will then use the monorail to intercept them. Weakened from the toxin, they should not prove much of a challenge. You have the sling bag that I had prepared?" "Yeah." I confirm, checking the said bag one more time. The stab vest and sword were placed in it to avoid detection until I was ready to make my move. No less lethal equipment this time. The Voice was not playing around. "No equipment upgrades? I could use a bit more firepower here." I remark. The Voice rasps, "My resources, and most importantly, time is not unlimited. Setting up the hub as a place of power took a good deal of strength. I was then preoccupied with the production of the necessary building materials to make the changes needed to the air vents as well as the manufacture of the toxin canisters you see before you. While spawning all those items at the hub, I had been tightening my control over the sarcophagus''s systems as well. Do be more reasonable in your requests of me."This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Now I feel slightly bad. My part of the operation seemed simple in comparison, yet I still needed The Voice to guide me through it. I can''t be blamed for that though. Previously I had never worked as either a builder or a technician and I naturally did not know my way around all the building supplies and technical equipment that The Voice had spawned at the hub. Nevertheless, with The Voice''s guidance, things went more or less smoothly. "I did manage to enhance the shin gunto however." The Voice continues, "I have copied the enchantment on Trietel''s flogging rod and woven it into the sword. You will find an improvement in the blade''s performance." Well, at least that''s something. The monorail comes to my first stop and I begin using the trolley to unload a portion of the canisters to be deployed. The Voice sends a signal to the monorail system, reserving the track my shuttle is on, allowing it to linger as I go about my business. With a heave, I begin pushing the loaded trolley deeper into the sarcophagus. Not much longer now. .... Last stop. Final destination. The shuttle has been completely emptied of canisters and I abandon the trolley at the monorail platform. I get back into the shuttle and wait for The Voice''s next move. The Voice on its part remains silent, waiting for a reaction from Fate''s base. I take the opportunity to retrieve the stab vest as well as the sword from the bag and get myself equipped. Soon, the monorail begins moving again. Looks like the plan worked. Fate''s worshipers had chosen to flee instead of staying holed up to meet their end. "Fate''s lackeys are in flight, carrying the mystery item with them." The Voice reports with satisfaction, "The fools have chosen to make their way to the nearest monorail platform. They hope to use a shuttle to reach a medical station in time to treat their poisoning. I have diverted all other shuttles from that station am sending you directly there right now. Finish them." I nod, stretching my muscles, "How many of these guys are there?" "Around thirty, however do not worry Transmigrator." The Voice responds, "Not only are they dying from the toxin, I have dispatched the drones to soften them up for your arrival. Fate''s lackeys shall prove no challenge to you." If you say so Voice. I prime myself for action as the shuttle speeds remorselessly towards my target. In a matter of minutes, the monorail begins to slow and I see the platform in question drawing closer from the distance. I draw the sword and activate the core in readiness. The shuttle smoothly comes to a stop at the platform and the doors slide open. What greets my eyes is a sorry sight. Amid the wreckage of the spider drones are the bloodstained bodies of several men and women dressed in plain white robes. Many of these men and women lie inert, having already succumbed to either their wounds or the poison. Those that still survive have protectively surrounded a coffin sized metal crate, no doubt housing the mystery mcguffin. They look up expectantly upon realizing that the monorail had arrived, clearly hoping that rescue is at hand. That hope leaves their faces when they see me advancing towards them with my sword drawn. Blood oozes relentlessly from the survivors'' eyes and noses as their faces morph into a thoroughly crestfallen expression. Death will claim them soon, no matter what I do here. The survivors weakly crawl towards me in a feeble attempt to protect the mystery mcguffin. I gently nudge them aside with my foot and make my way to the crate. Examining the crate, I notice that it has been tightly sealed. I don''t have explosives with me now, so I will have to bring the crate back to the hub where I can take my time to deal with it. Hefting it up with one arm, I make my way back to the monorail, blocking my ears to the impotent curses uttered from the survivors and occasionally slapping one of them down with the flat of my sword. Make your peace with your goddess. You lot will be seeing her very soon. Point of No Return "Well that was easy." I comment offhandedly while examining the large metal crate that I had seized from the cultists. Disappointingly easy in fact. After all the hullabaloo that The Voice raised about this mission being some kind of point of no return, I was expecting at the very least the equivalent of a boss fight to claim the mystery mcguffin. Instead the only opposition I had was a pack of half-dead humans, angels and demons. Say what you like about Fate, it did not discriminate in its hiring practices. I scrutinize the seal that had been placed on the crate. Its just a thin piece of paper bearing a rune painted in blood that had been pasted over the lid of the crate. The rune however positively blazes with magical energy. No matter how I pull, I can''t get the seal off nor do I make any headway in opening the crate. I give the crate an experimental punch but other than sounding like a gong, the crate remains completely unmoved by my efforts. "That seal was created by drawing from the blood of Fate''s lackeys," The Voice explains distractedly, "Just as their faith was unbreakable, so is that seal. The only way to open the crate is to bring it back to the hub where I can isolate it from Fate''s influence." "You alright there?" I ask, "You don''t sound particularly happy with our win. We did just seize the doom of this world from your rival, you know." The Voice rasps, "Its not that. I am monitoring the Crossroads presently and the constellations have been going completely out of control the moment we launched our attack on Fate''s place of power." I raise an eyebrow, "So? That''s something we had been expecting right from the start." The Voice rumbles back, "The moment we launched our attack, Fate made a big move at the Crossroads, attempting to pull the Hero and everyone connected to him into yet another alternate route. I suspect this is part of a contingency plan laid by Fate in the event that its place of power was under threat. What worries me is whatever this alternate route is, it has become highly unstable. It is as if the route has failed to trigger properly but Fate is nevertheless trying to brute force it through." "Isn''t that great news for us? What good is a contingency plan if it doesn''t work?" I query. "Whether it is good news for us has yet to be seen." The Voice says, "The instability in the route is being caused by the riot you had incited at the Six Trees District. The riot has prevented certain preconditions for the alternate route activating from being met. Fate is currently frantically juggling the constellations about, trying to work out an ad-hoc solution to this problem." "Still sounds like good news to me." I reply, "What are these preconditions you are talking about?" The Voice pauses for a moment, considering the possibilities, before answering my question, "Inspector Scott has to remain as the Hero''s bodyguard when the alternate route is triggered. Also, the Hero''s attitude towards Heroine Naiberg''s father has to be at least at neutral level. The riot has prevented either of these conditions from being met, though the reasons for that are unknown to me. Fate has nevertheless opted to initialize this alternate route despite the unpredictability caused by the latent instability."Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. The monorail begins to slow as it nears the station that services the hub. The Voice continues, "At any rate, this is an issue that neither of us can deal with at the moment. We should concentrate on what is before us, the mystery item. Once we have secured our victory, we can worry about Fate''s retaliation." I grunt in agreement and heft the crate up as the doors of the monorail open. I move through the monorail platform quickly and soon reach the control center of the hub. Dropping the crate to the floor, I see that the rune on the piece of paper has already begun to fade away. I easily tear the paper off and flip the crate''s lid open. What I see in the crate is a badly damaged device of some kind. Rectangular in shape, its metal exterior had been marred by blast marks, no doubt caused by the explosion at the warehouse. The device has a pair of prongs made out of silvery material mounted on one of its ends. Was the mystery mcguffin meant to be attached into something else? I remove the device from the crate and pry off what appears to be its "lid" in order to see the interior. Whats inside is a bewildering array of cables and electronics that I can''t make head or tail out of. I have no idea what this device is meant to do, but one thing is clear. Its obviously broken. The Voice had been freaking out about this piece of junk all the while? "Transmigrator," The Voice says in a tone heavy with tension, "do you see a small round sphere located within that systems regulation unit?" Is that what this thingy is? I check again. "Nope. Nothing like that." I answer. "Check again." The Voice insists. "Still nothing." I say. The Voice rasps harshly, "The codex. Where could the codex be! Did Fate''s lackeys leave it behind in its place of power? Impossible. The only thing I am sensing is the object in front of you. Transmigrator, tear that crate apart, there might be a hidden compartment in it." I duly oblige and rip the crate in half. Still nothing. Did we just get played? Just as I am ruminating on this possibility, I hear an alarm go off at the hub terminal. I go over to check and note that the terminal is reporting a case of .. flooding? "Hey, are you seeing this?" I call out of The Voice, "The sector you said Fate''s base was located is letting in water right now." "How is that relevant?" The Voice responds irritably. "It means that there is another exit at Fate''s base." I grimly state, "When we launched our attack, the cultists probably flushed what you are looking for into the ocean. The goons we put down were likely just a diversion to keep us busy." The Voice grows increasingly agitated in tone as it rumbles, "I checked the schematics for that sector. There is nothing but solid armor on the exterior. Fate''s place of power has no other entrances or exits." "Explain the flooding then. The water must be coming in from somewhere. All this means is that the schematics you had relied on are wrong." I say. The Voice remains silent and minutes pass. It hits me all of a sudden while I am waiting for The Voice to say something. This is it isn''t it. The point of no return. The event that changes everything. Suddenly, The Voice exclaims, "I have it!" It immediately seizes control of the hub terminal and real time footage from an aerial drone fills the screen. The drone focuses on what is probably a midget submarine roughly twenty meters in length. The submarine has surfaced and beside it is a speed boat painted in the colors of SOPO. The SOPO officers, still dressed in their ridiculously elaborate uniforms, are busy removing several bloodstained bodies from the midget submarine until one of them comes upon a small package carried by one of the corpses. Upon finding this package, the SOPO officers dump all the corpses back into the submarine and zoom away with the package in their possession. Well, that answers The Voice''s question then. Now what? "The submarine. Fate has been using the submarine the same way I use the black cab. How could I be so blind?" The Voice mutters. The Voice finally steadies itself before announcing, "Transmigrator, a crisis situation has arisen. Your intervention is required." Of course it is. Of course it is. Lust For Life I scramble towards the inclinator knocking aside a carelessly placed chair in the hub while The Voice continues to brief me while I run. "I have cracked SOPO''s communications with the squad that picked up the codex," The Voice rasps, "They are en route to deliver it to a separate team of escorts who will in turn take the codex to a privately held research facility located in the Dreaming Spires District. Thanks to the location of the hub, we still have time to manage an interception." Codex? This is the first time I am hearing about it. "What''s this codex? Why is it important?" I ask The Voice as I step into the powering up inclinator where I find the ORPO motorbike parked and the cop uniform laid out beside it. The inclinator did not need my input to begin the power up sequence this time. The Voice''s control over the sarcophagus''s systems must be strengthening. "Now is not the time for lengthy explanations Transmigrator." The Voice replies, "Concentrate on the crisis at hand." As The Voice speaks, the inclinator begins its journey to the surface with a mechanical groan of effort. I begin changing out of the technician outfit and into the ORPO gear while speaking, "We have time right now Voice. I can''t go anywhere while the inclinator is taking me up to the surface. So spill. What''s this codex?" The Voice hesitates for a moment before answering, "The codex is a repository of sorts, storing the operating instructions and blueprints of a relic known as Salvation. I had destroyed Salvation a long time ago, but it appears Fate has managed to find part of the wreckage and salvage the codex from it. It is imperative that the codex is retrieved Transmigrator, I cannot stress this enough." I protest, "You destroyed the original Salvation right? And this codex is only a small portion of the actual article. Even if Fate gets away with the codex, would it make any difference? The codex by itself is likely completely useless." "That''s where you are wrong." The Voice rebuts, panic barely concealed, "I have worked out the end state Fate had originally planned for the alternate route. It is highly undesirable. For both of us." "How so?" I ask while putting on the leather boots of the cop uniform. "We die." The Voice says with consternation. "What!" I yell, "How in the world is that even possible?" The Voice rumbles, "I do not know. However, my senses do not lie. I am confident that the codex poses a massive threat to my life, and by extension yours Transmigrator. No matter whatever the risk is, regardless of whatever opposition Fate has prepared, you must complete this mission. Do you understand?" "Hold up just a minute." I fire back, "All I''m hearing is how much this codex is a threat to you. Are you trying to hustle me into risking my life for your sake? Because that''s what it looks like from my perspective." Don''t think I''ve not gotten wise to you Voice. By now, I know your tricks. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. The Voice says in a disapproving tone, "This is no hustle. If I die, my power will fade from the artificial core as well. Do you think you can survive in this world without my help, having Fate as an enemy? Whether you like it or not, in this game, both of us have staked our lives together in the battle against Fate. Will you forfeit now, Transmigrator?" I finish putting on the gloves and tighten my fists angrily. Fine. If that''s the only way, then that''s the only way. "What''s our win condition?" I query. The Voice rasps, "We do not have one. The alternate route triggers the moment Fate''s place of power has been successfully attacked. The route then inexorably drives the attackers towards a "bad end" as the people of your dimension would call it. As we have already entered the alternate route the moment the toxin was released into the shelter, Fate will drive us to our destruction, regardless of the course of action that we take." Just as I am about to shout in protest again, The Voice continues, "However, we have a secret weapon, namely you, Transmigrator. While your host Mr Gallant as a native of this world is still subject to Fate''s whims, your actions are beyond its reach. Fate can sweep you up in its current, but it cannot truly hold you. Already your actions in Six Trees District have destabilized the route we are on, giving us a fighting chance. Whatever you do next will add further uncontrollable variables into the Crossroads, further depriving Fate of control." I take a deep breath to calm myself down before replying, "You said that Fate was brute forcing this route through." The Voice answers my unspoken question with a confidence that I don''t feel, "Yes. Nevertheless due to the instability, the ending of the route in no longer preordained. There is hope Transmigrator, but we will need to seize that hope with our own hands. We stand against the current and have the opportunity to divert it away from its original course. Transmigrator, are you prepared to fight for your life?" I pick up the belt that had been laid on the floor and find that it is not the original equipment belt that I had been using. Instead of holding the stun gun, baton and other assorted cop accessories, this belt is outfitted with a holster carrying a large revolver. The pocketed belt is also meant to serve as a bandolier for the revolver''s ammunition, with several fat, stubby rounds piled up on the ground beside it. I draw the revolver from the holster and the weapon''s weight immediately strains my wrist. While I''m no expert shooter, I can tell that the revolver''s balance is atrocious. The size of its bullets probably mean that the recoil from firing will be equally bad. I am going to need the core active if I want to use this weapon effectively. "I agreed to help you because I wanted to live." I tell The Voice, "So Fate can bring it on." I put on the belt, load the ammunition into the gun and onto the bandolier before finally sliding the revolver back into its holster. "Why get back the codex though? Why not do something else to mess Fate''s plan up?" I ask. "Its the most direct way of interfering with the route. The longer we tarry, the greater Fate''s chances at resolving the instability." The Voice explains, "However if other options arise, I will keep you informed. We have almost reached the surface. Get ready." I put on the helmet and mount the motorbike. As the inclinator''s shutters to the surface rise, The Voice guns the bike''s engine causing it to roar like a lion, filling my heart with if not courage, then bravado. The cold winter breeze hits me, driving away all my fatigue. That''s good enough for me. I''m literally staring at death right in the face right now. Anything that helps with composure is welcome. And under the canopy of stars, The Voice and I charge towards our date with destiny. Together. Until the end. Confrontation The motorbike charges through the streets of the Dreaming Spires District on an intercept course with the SOPO escorts. From what The Voice had told me, in theory we had enough time to perform the interception, but it would be cutting things very close, especially if the escorts decided to fight back. That was the reason why The Voice had provided me with the gun I suppose. "That gun you gave me back at the inclinator, no offence, but I don''t think its very good." I comment. Its true, the weight and balance of the gun is all wrong. The Voice had made a pretty terrible choice in armament. The Voice replies, "That is because the gun I spawned for you is in fact not very good, at least by conventional standards. That is a Menacer prototype revolver. SOPO''s Justifier revolvers are based on an evolution of its design. The Menacer was abandoned because it weighed too much, had an awkward balance and its recoil snapped the wrists of several officers that tested it." "Then why did you provide me with one instead of the good stuff?" I ask bewildered. "The Menacer''s shortcomings will not be an issue for you. Your powers will be able to compensate for its unwieldy nature. More importantly, unlike the Justifier, the Menacer can be loaded with T-Rex rounds, high powered bullets capable of inflicting injury on a mage. I felt the trade off more than worthwhile. Still, do not rely too much on it. The gun''s stopping power is inferior to the shin gunto." The Voice explains. Fair enough. We continue our way through the night streets in silence when suddenly an ear-splitting sonic boom tears through the air. Looking up, I see a squadron of jet fighters slash across the horizon. A few minutes after they disappear, a loud explosion resounds from the distance. I have a bad feeling about all of this. "What in the world is going on?" I question. The Voice takes a moment to answer, "The P5 aircraft carrier Narancha had launched a squadron of its fighters. That explosion you heard was the fighters bombing SOPO and RAU positions at Six Trees. The Council has been thrown into chaos and are going to make an emergency announcement soon." What. "That is not all," The Voice continues, "ORPO has taken advantage of SOPO''s and RAU''s preoccupation with the riot at Six Trees District and have seized control of the port at Welder''s Bay. The P5 have docked several transports bearing arms and special forces troops. ORPO are currently rearming themselves in defiance of The Council and when ready, will march with the P5 special forces to occupy Six Trees." What. "The P5 have just released a statement saying that they are revoking The City''s jurisdiction over Six Trees District and placing it under their interim administrative control. All SOPO and RAU officers active in Six Trees have been classed as invaders of P5 sovereign territory and ordered to disarm and stand down. The Narancha and its task force have been deployed to enforce the P5''s decision while ORPO appear to have been co-opted into this scheme." The Voice concludes. "What in blazes happened while we were in the sarcophagus?" I exclaim. The Voice rumbles, "The riot had spread completely out of control and ORPO took the opportunity to present the evidence of the Council''s collusion with the Host directly to the P5. The P5 seem to have come to the conclusion that the Council and SOPO are compromised and have decided to take matters into their own hands. A completely unexpected move. The Host and the Legion have been taken by surprise and have not had the time to formulate a response." Another consequence of the riot that I had started. Events are really spiraling out of anyone''s expectations at this point. What is happening now is probably a symptom of Fate losing control over the scenario. In the distance I see three SOPO cop cruisers driving through the streets in single file. That must be the escort that The Voice had been talking about. ''Draw alongside the lead vehicle," I instruct The Voice, "I''ll get them to stop by the side of the road with this ORPO getup." The Voice complies and the bike surges forward cops lights flashing and siren blaring towards the lead SOPO cruiser. As I am drawing abreast of it, I knock on the window and signal the driver to pull over. The driver speaks briefly with his partner and turns to nod at me. Just as I am about to give way for them to move to the side of the road, the cruiser abruptly swerves towards me in an attempted side swipe. The Voice controls the bike expertly, dodging the attack but we are nevertheless forced away from the convoy. The middle car of the convoy bolts forward at top speed with its siren blaring while the two remaining cars get into a side by side formation.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Damn. How did SOPO know? I had never attacked them before. Nothing for it now. The bike charges forward once more in chase of the vehicle getting away. The other two cars however begin taking turns alternately trying to run me over or block my path. The Voice tries to bull rush through the impediment, but its no use. The sustained assault is too much for The Voice to deal with. The motorbike is once again forced to retreat from the convoy without any result. The other cars on the road begin to slow, their drivers keeping away from us and watching the battle unfold before them. "Transmigrator, we are losing time," The Voice rasps urgently, "deal with these officers so that we can resume pursuit." I nod, drawing the revolver from its holster and activating the core. The motorbike makes another go at charging forwards again and one of the cop cruisers predictably swerves at me. I concentrate, taking aim at the driver with the revolver and pull the trigger. The revolver gives out a thunderous report and the shock of its recoil rolls up my arm. But with the core active, I easily keep the weapon steady and see the driver''s side window of the cruiser shatter and the bullet impact against the driver''s shoulder, spilling blood. The cop cruiser begins to drift away from me as the driver instinctively tries to fall back, but I don''t give the officers a chance to recover. I begin to fire the revolver into the vehicle''s cabin, again and again and again. My second shot hits the driver''s partner in the chest and she frantically tries to stop the bleeding, crying out in pain. The third shot smashes into the driver''s throat and his head pitches forward, slamming into the steering wheel. As the cruiser''s horn screams in protest, sparks fly from its dashboard and the steering wheel on its own volition makes a hard swerve towards the other cop car. The Voice must have taken the opportunity to seize control of the cruiser now that the driver was dead. The hijacked car t-bones its erstwhile partner causing both cars to plow into the path of several on-coming vehicles. With a sickening crash, the cop cruisers are pile-drivered by the other vehicles into a building located on the side of the road, putting both cars out of commission. I reload the revolver as the motorbike continues its chase. .... "Nice team work back there. Tag-team action for the win." I congratulate, the wind blowing against my face. The Voice rumbles, "Do not relax just yet. We are closing in on the final escort. Prepare yourself." The motorbike makes a turn and I find myself approaching a large automated gate that has been left open. The Voice''s doing no doubt. The motorbike passes through the gate without opposition and I see that the road leads to a squat, nondescript building. No signage anywhere regarding the building''s purpose. The grounds comprise of just a simple garden and a parking lot. If I did not know that it was a lab, I would have probably taken it for an office complex or light industrial facility. The cop car has been parked at the entrance of the building with one of the SOPO officers standing guard there. The other guy must have gone inside to make the delivery. Instead of stopping the bike, The Voice guns the engine and sends the bike rushing towards the surprised officer. Before the officer can react, the bike barrels into him at full tilt, sending him flying into the air, blood dripping from his mouth. The officer crashes into the building''s doors, flinging them open. As The Voice brings the motorbike to a stop, I dismount drawing the revolver once again. I pause briefly to administer a bullet to the officer''s head before running into the building. "Up ahead." The Voice tersely informs me. I hear it as well. The sound of footsteps ahead of me. I pick up the pace and break into a full run. And down the corridor I see the officer carrying the package, desperately jabbing at an intercom before a pair of double doors. The officer turns back and sees me, his face a rictus of utter terror. He now starts banging against the doors with his fist in addition to hammering away at the intercom. A loud buzz comes from the doors and they unlock. Relief washes over the officer''s face and he pushes the doors open, darting inside. But its too late. I level the gun at the officer and unload into his back while running towards him. The thunder of the revolver echoes throughout the building as the impact from the bullets sends the officer pitching forward. The officer sprawls into the room ahead and drops the package. A large pool of blood blossoms around his body as he breathes his last. I step into the room and survey the sight. Before me and the bloody corpse is a simple, unadorned reception area with a group of people led by an old man with a hobo beard situated behind the receptionist''s counter. Beside him is the pony-tailed woman that had stalked me back at Six Trees. Gathered around the duo is a pack of muscle led by a demon lady who is looking at me as if I am the scum of the earth. The old man steps forward to retrieve the package. In return I holster the empty revolver and draw my sword with an aggressive swing. The old man stops in his tracks, clearly having gotten the message. The old man speaks to the pony-tailed woman, "Its a good thing I asked you to provide security as well, eh?" The demon lady steps forward, addressing the duo, "Boss, Archmage, I''ll deal with this. Retreat with the rest of the men to the security station." Ponytail nods, replying, "Then we will leave this to you Master Chance. Bring us the item we spoke about once you are done." The gaggle of people vacate the room, leaving behind only the demon lady and myself. She pops her knuckles and beckons me forward, claws growing out of her hands. Someone''s feeling confident huh? From your nimbus I can tell that you are strong. But I have faced strong opponents before. And now, I cannot back down. I will not back down. I assume the ready stance as silence falls between the two of us. Its time to seize hope. With both my bloodstained hands. Alter Ego "Here for the package, not your lives." I tell Chance, the hired muscle who stands in my way, "Step aside and you guys get to live." Chance sneers, her eyes gleaming with contempt towards me. She flexes her claws and responds, "Nice of you to make that offer to me. Too bad those policemen you killed never got the chance to surrender. Yes, I can tell you''ve killed several people already. Their unjust murders have marked your soul." I raise the sword, preparing to strike, "And it looks like some idiot wants to become part of the body count. You know what they say about eggs and omelettes?" Chance assumes a fighting stance and circulates her spirituality, "Save it. I''ve dedicated my life to dealing with scum like you. You going to actually attack or is shooting people in the back all you can do?" Not going to rile me up that easily lady. I tense and burst into action, swinging the sword right at Chance''s throat. My blade meets sudden resistance and I realize that Chance has blocked my sword with the tips of her claws just before I could decapitate her. I add pressure to the sword and the blade begins to bite into Chance''s claws, she flares her spirit and delivers a forceful push against my weapon. I am sent skidding backwards and quickly regain my composure as the core compensates. "My turn." Chance growls and surges forward like a wave, aiming a blow straight to my heart. Instinct takes over and my arms flick the sword up, its flat parrying Chance''s claws with a clash. Before I can take another swing at her, Chance retreats like the receding tide to a safe distance, this time regarding me warily. That move. I''ve seen it before. The Hero used while fighting Loli vampire at the manor. How does some random hired muscle have the same move set? Something''s wrong. I want to get clarification from The Voice, but with Chance in my face, I can''t spare the attention for a separate conversation. If I cannot speak with The Voice, then I''ll just have to settle with the next best thing. "You know Tensei von Amsterg?" I ask. Chance glowers at me but does not bother responding. If anything, the look on her face becomes even more determined and her spirit core blazes with intensity. The Voice however picks up on my hint and answers, "Master Chance is one of the Hero''s instructors. She has also been hired by Mr Gallant''s sister as a bodyguard. Be warned Transmigrator, Mr Gallant''s sister and Heroine Naiberg''s father are somewhere within this facility. This entire scenario is very likely a set-up to either kill you, entrap you or drive a wedge between you and the Hero." As I am taken aback by The Voice''s revelation, Chance seizes the opportunity to launch another attack against me. Sparks fly as her claws strike my sword and we madly dance around the deserted reception area. Chance is certainly experienced and skilled, but with the powers providing me with theoretically perfect technique, she is finding it difficult to break my guard. My only worry is that the clock will run out on me for this fight. Either the stress builds up too much in Gallant''s body or police reinforcements will arrive. I am going to have to take the initiative again soon. I pump my legs and try to run Chance through with the sword, but she evades my attack again with the same wave like motion. Prepared for her evasive technique this time, I signal the core to speed up my movements while I am still lunging towards Chance. As power surges through my arms, I interrupt my own lunge and convert it into a horizontal slash, trying to bisect Chance as she tries to dodge my blow. Chance''s eyes widen in alarm as the sword''s blade strikes her side and her core flares. Instead of seeking to resist my attack, her entire body, suffused with spiritual power, instead goes soft and limp. With no resistance to bite into, the sword''s momentum simply bats Chance to the side of the room without doing any real damage. As Chance falls, she expertly performs a roll and forcibly uses her spirit energy to pull herself back up to her feet, her body regaining its previous hardness and solidity. My eyes blink at this display. Moving like a wave. Not resisting attacks directly. I think I have worked out the gimmick behind this fight. Stolen story; please report. "Formlessness. That''s your actual technique isn''t it? Like water, you are not bound to a defined physical shape. That''s how you grew those claws of yours." I comment. Chance scowls at me before nodding, "Yeah, that''s right. You worked it out pretty quickly, but that doesn''t change anything. Your sword is not going to do jack shit against me. You might as well just give yourself up now." The Voice abruptly cuts in, "Transmigrator, I am getting very odd readings from Master Chance''s spirit core. I have no idea what it represents, but I advise you to end this fight quickly." Working on it boss man. I nod at Chance''s statement and sheathe the sword. Instead of continuing the confrontation, I turn to the package and move towards it. As I am picking up the package, I feel Chance''s claws slash into the helmet, impacting futilely against my head, causing me to stagger backwards. I retaliate with an annoyed backhand which feels as if I had punched a lump of plasticine, causing Chance to go harmlessly bouncing backwards. As she gets back up to her feet, she stares at me slack jawed as I pick up the package no worse for wear. "While I am curious which one of us would eventually kick the other''s ass," I say, "I''m working on a tight schedule here. Until next time, Master Chance." As I turn away from her, instead of attacking me again, Chance instead stands in front of me and bars my path, fury written all over her face. She surges her spirit core again, but this time, I notice the abnormality The Voice had mentioned. Her spirit core contains some sort of impurity that appears like grit before my eyes. The grit had originally been inert, but Chance appears to be infusing her power into the grit and deliberately stirring it up, allowing the grit to enter her spiritual nimbus. As the grit spreads throughout the nimbus, Chance''s nimbus loses its original "feel", and I get the sense that something fundamental has changed about her. The Voice screams in alarm, "An Incarnate! Fate has deployed an Incarnate against us. You must secure the codex and retreat immediately. This is not an opponent that you can overcome." As I am wondering what in the world The Voice is talking about, the grit has completely permeated Chance''s nimbus, giving it a murky, sinister look. Then to my horror, I see red threads sprouting from Chance''s spirit core. The thread surges throughout the nimbus, radiating power, all the while held in place by the grit. Chance''s presence grows incredibly oppressive, as if a skyscraper is weighing down on me. I have no idea what an Incarnate is, but its obviously not good. "You lost the moment you met me." Chance pronounces, "I am Violet Chance, Master of the Path of Judgment, descendant of the hero Prince Enma." Who the hell is Prince Enma? What in the world are you talking about lady? The red thread quivers as Chance''s core surges once more, and emerald flame begins to spill out from the nimbus, spreading hungrily across the floor. I don''t bother to wait for Chance to finish what she plans on doing and make a mad dash towards the exit. But the emerald flame lashes out at me with a mind of its own. I barely manage to dodge just in time and as I am retreating from the attack, more streams of flame gather at the room''s exits before erupting into massive blazing curtains. The reception been completely cut-off from the rest of the facility. This looks like a mandatory boss fight, and I suspect that I am badly under leveled here. "Any ideas?" I whisper urgently to The Voice. The Voice mumbles feebly, "I do not know. I was not expecting this at all." Chance begins to slowly walk towards me saying, "Just as Prince Enma judged the guilty and sinful in the Holy Crusade, so shall I judge you today. The Fire of Perdition hungers greatly for your life. You must have sinned greatly against the world." I snarl and draw the sword with one hand, the other tightly grasping the package. The fire rises in a vortex around Chance and whirls outward, sweeping the entire room into its embrace. My body screams in pain as the fire washes over me while the core increases its output in sympathy. The glare from the flame gets into my eyes and I am left blinded. I focus, letting the powers locate Chance for me. And I sense her, charging straight at me, closing in quickly. Increasing core output even further, I swing the sword as hard as I can at Chance. Chance emerges from the fire and blocks the sword with her palms. As blood begins to flow from her hands, she clenches on to the blade tightly and the flame starts up once more. I feel the sword begin to heat up rapidly an before my eyes, the blade melts from the heat being exuded by Chance. As the useless sword hilt and the package fall to the ground, Chance lashes out again, her claws piercing through the helmet once more. Flame enshrouds my head. It flows throughout the uniform, spreading everywhere. I''m being cooked inside my own disguise. The core surges to a new height, the buzz in my head returning, but the pain is too much. I am losing feeling to my body. "Submit to judgment." I hear Chance declare. I want to fight. I want to keep fighting. But I cannot feel my arms. I want to run. But I cannot feel my legs. I want to scream, but there is no one to hear me. But I can still hear. Over Chance''s gloating. A voice, not The Voice. And it says - Finger of the Mountain The Reality of Fantasy When I was a young boy, the maid Father had hired to watch over sister and myself would every night tell us a bedtime story to lull us to sleep. I only had an idle interest in the stories the maid told us, but sister was obsessed with one particular story, demanding our maid tell it to us again and again. On the rare occasion I objected to sister''s choice, wanting to hear something new, sister would sulk until she got her way. In this manner, I became familiar with her favorite story. The Legend of Princess Anri. A long time ago, the world had been divided into three large continents, where kings great and small ruled. These kings reigned at the pleasure of the King of kings, the True Emperor, who towered over them all from his dark castle at the southern edge of the world. Under the grinding yoke of the King of kings, the peoples of the world toiled without rest, building great cities and developing the land. Soon, the True Emperor also demanded sacrifices in blood made to his name. The nations of the world, angered by this demand, raised great armies against the True Emperor in revolt against such tyranny. But the True Emperor was a sorcerer of immense power, and with a flick of his hand, the armies riding against his castle were swallowed by earthquakes and drowned in great torrents of fire. The people, cowed into obedience by this display of strength, duly offered up their lives to the glory of their True Emperor. So things continued this way for years, until the servants of the True Emperor one day arrived at a now long-forgotten kingdom demanding tribute. The ruler of this small and insignificant kingdom, an equally small and insignificant man, offered up the life his daughter, the Princess Anri, to the True Emperor as proof of his fealty. The king''s knights dragged the sobbing princess away and she was locked in the castle''s stables, awaiting the day she would be taken away by the dread servants of the True Emperor. For several days and nights, Princess Anri pleaded with the guards that had been posted at the stables, begging that they allow her to escape. All to no avail, for the fear of the True Emperor''s vengeance laid heavily on their hearts. It was one night, when a boy of mean birth, a nameless stable hand, screwed up the courage to smuggle Princess Anri out of the castle and beyond the reach of her incensed father. With no place that was safe for them and the king''s men in pursuit, the couple fled far to the west, to the land of the eternal light, breaching the True Emperor''s law that none shall cross the continents without his permission. There the Princess and the stable hand tried to settle down into a normal life. However, they were attacked by the True Emperor''s servants who had managed to track the couple down. When all seemed lost, they were saved by the timely arrival of Sir Castiel, a local knight who had taken a great admiration for the couple''s simple and straightforward natures. With the rest of the True Emperor''s servants closing in, the group, now expanded into a trio, fled once more. This time they fled to the east, to the abyss of encroaching darkness, where the trio fell into the hands of Prince Enma, a ruthless local potentate. Prince Enma had earned many merits in the eyes of the True Emperor through the sacrifice of his court rivals from within his own family. With the capture of Princess Anri, Enma originally planned to have her killed to prove his loyalty to the True Emperor. On the day Princess Anri was dragged before him on the execution square, she refused to beg for mercy and looked Enma in the eye, asking him whether he could live with himself and all the injustice that he had wrought. Prince Enma, shamed by the girl''s bravery and with his conscience weighing heavily upon him for the deaths of the members of his family, broke down in tears and set her free. Now a wanted man, Enma joined the Princess''s group and together they fled the abyss. Enma brought with him secrets that he stole from the True Emperor and he told Princess Anri that far in the north lay the final bequeath of the All-Father, the creator of this world. The All-Father, when nearing his death, had willed this world to its peoples, his children, but that inheritance had been unjustly seized by the True Emperor using his dark magic. The All-Father realizing that his children needed the strength to battle the True Emperor, had left behind a final legacy for any of his children that could pass the tests. And so the Princess and her followers went north, into the wasteland, where mountains made out of bleached bones competed in height with the ancient pillars of glass. There they found the All-Father''s legacy and passed the tests that he had set. Sir Castiel, who had protected the group through thick and thin, his courage never wavering, was rewarded with an Immortal Spirit so that he could fearlessly defend the All-Father''s children in the times to come. Prince Enma, who had judged others and was judged in return, was granted the Fire of Perdition, so that his judgment of the enemies of the people would never err and mercy would never stay his hand. The stable hand, humble and nameless, yet daring to love what should have been out of his reach, was granted the power of the heart, so that all would know the gentle loving embrace of the All-Father through him. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. But the All-Father''s greatest gift was granted to Princess Anri, which she would in turn use to end an age and create a legend. .... And so the legend has become flesh. Fantasy is now reality. I had never believed those tales before, but I cannot deny the evidence before my eyes. My opponent is Prince Enma. I have been judged by the Fire of Perdition. I refuse to accept that judgment just as I refuse to accept the place my family had intended for me. Just as I refuse to go back to being nothing. Enma''s judgment is nothing before the power of the stallion. I now have the power to create my own destiny, and I will use it to the full. I will complete the quest the stallion had entrusted to me. I will remain relevant, not just to myself, but to the ultimate destiny of this world. My extended index finger slams into Prince Enma with an explosion of force, sending him staggering backwards. The emerald flames blaze higher, casting lurid shadows about us as Enma regains his footing, looking at me in surprise. The pain of the fire upon my body is quickly growing unbearable, so I remove the burning helmet and let it clatter to the ground. With a single motion I then tear the flaming armor off my torso, casting it aside. Bare-chested, I confront Enma, the mark of the Stallion carved into my flesh. My magic surges through the scars running along my body, suppressing the flames that surround both of us. I hear someone shouting at me, as if right in my ear, but I cannot understand what is being said. It does not matter. Defeating Enma is all that matters. Enma stares at me dumbfounded, before charging at me again with his claws outstretched. I unleash the raw power of the stallion against him and he stops in his tracks, suppressed by the raw force from the wave of magic, fear written all over his face. Once more, I deliver the finger of the mountain straight into Enma''s chest and he is sent flying backwards, vomiting blood. Liquid warmth flows through the cracks of my scars. The shouting in my ear becomes louder and more insistent, but remains just as incoherent. I try to focus on what it is trying to say, but I just cannot make sense out of it. The ground begins to shake as I stalk towards Enma''s groaning form. With a sudden burst of speed, Enma bolts low on the ground towards me, his claws aimed straight at my crotch. I am too slow to respond and Enma''s hand closes on my privates before crushing them. But I feel nothing. No pain. Not even the slightest discomfort. The stallion''s protection holds firm as Enma''s hand makes zero headway in doing any damage to me. A look of utter despair crosses his face. He realizes it now. The difference between us. I clamp my hand on Enma''s head and begin to focus my magic. Enma senses the danger and tries to struggle, but I hold him firm. I had only studied the basics with Father, but with the stallion''s power, I can now go so much further. I can finally move beyond Father''s shadow. Look at me now Father! Not so weak am I now, Sister? "Feel not just the Finger of the Mountain, but the weight of the entire world." I intone, as if I am giving Enma his last rites. The magic boils up within me and pours into Enma''s head in an unstoppable wave. Enma screams as he begins to bleed from his eyes, ears and nose. The shaking of the ground becomes even more severe, with the whole room now swaying unevenly back and forth.The indecipherable shouting in my ear is now laden with desperation. But Enma resists. Even when he should be killed outright, he somehow manages to scrape together the strength to block my spell. My wave of magic slams against the mountain of Enma''s defense. As I struggle to break through and finish the fight, I sense that Enma is somehow growing stronger, the metaphorical mountain trembling with the force of a pent-up volcano. Cracks begin to spread across the floor as the two of us wage our private war against each other. Impossible. There is no way Enma can resist the stallion''s power. There is nothing that can overcome the power of a god. Unless ... Another god had decided to intervene. As enlightenment hits me, the mountain that is Enma''s spirit core breaks apart, unleashing a torrent of raw, molten magic. Enma screams from the agony but remains conscious, whatever power he is channeling preventing his core from collapsing totally. I feel the monstrous power that Enma unleashed dash my spell aside and the sharp pain of magical backlash ravage my body. I draw deeper from the stallion''s power and push back against this sudden opposition. Two equally matched forces, battling against each other. Power thrums through my veins, the pressure building. The Fire of Perdition rages out of control, mercilessly consuming everything around us. And throughout it all the shaking reaches a new level, with the cracks now having spread to the roof of the building and masonry tumbling down to the ground. It will be over soon. It must be over soon. I don''t think I can hold out for much longer. Its like a dam breaking somewhere in my body. Hot red liquid sprays out from my scars, soaking Enma to the bone, a look of horror on his face. A sense of relief overwhelms me, as if a knot of tension has suddenly been released. My body feels loose, flexible. Its amazing. Crimson builds up from the inside of my eyes, gradually blinding me. As my sight fades, I see the roof collapse and feel the floor give way beneath my feet. Then I tumble, onward into an endless eternity. End of Arc One The Latest On UNCBC Good evening. We join you tonight at City Hall, where the Council has just released a confirmation accepting the UN P5''s declaration of the Six Trees District as an Interim Administration Zone. This decision came after more than a week of rioting tore the district apart, arising from the heavy handed attempts by the Reserve Assault Unit to clear the district and turn it over to the Host for redevelopment, followed by military intervention by the P5 as the situation raged out of control. Some background on the story for our viewers. The Urban Redevelopment Initiative, originally launched by the Host with the publicly stated aim of regenerating and renewing the poorer areas of The City, had long been mired in controversy as it became clear that the less fortunate were being forcibly expelled without fair compensation for their homes and businesses as the URI began taking over various neighborhoods. The Council had nevertheless continued their support of this scheme in defiance of public opinion, claiming that the benefits from the redeveloped districts far outweighed the disruption caused by the evictions. Investigators from ORPO however have presented a confidential report to the P5 and while we have not had sight of the report itself, our sources state that the report contains details of how the URI was used by the Host and the Council to siphon out billions of nu-credits from The City. In broad outline, the assets held under the URI, originally obtained below their actual market value, were used as security to raise borrowings in foreign currencies such as dollars. These loans were funneled into various black box schemes under the control of the Host and The City or directly into the personal accounts of certain connected individuals. How much of this foreign money was actually used to carry out the URI''s publicly advertised objectives is presently unknown. The URI has also met with objection from citizens'' rights groups, as it arguably breaches The City''s founding charter. One of the requirements of the URI is that de facto control over the areas it falls under is to be turned over to the Host. As The City is created from territory contributed by various UN members, the UN under the founding charter remains the final deciding authority on not just land use within The City but also on many other matters regarding its governance. The Council in a very unusual move, had allowed the Host to have effective control over land purchased under the URI without prior consent from the UN. While the Council has asserted in the past that since de jure power over the affected districts remains in The City''s, and therefore the UN''s hands, making this concern irrelevant, the members of the UN who had contributed the respective districts during The City''s construction have gone on record demanding an explanation on how such an arrangement respects the sacrifices in territory the nations of this world agreed to bear for The City to even be established. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Even more troubling is the finding the report makes that the highest tiers of the Council and the Special Operations Police are well aware of the scheme and have either closed an eye to such wrong doing or are actively benefiting from it. These findings, combined with the recent agitation from the Host about allowing angels to join SOPO, has led to widespread fears that The Council and SOPO have grown ineffective at enforcing their own authority and respecting the agreements that allowed for The City''s founding. In a press statement we just received, the P5 spokesperson referred to the reprisals carried out by SOPO and RAU in Six Trees as not just crimes against humanity, but against all species, and that the disproportionate violence used by The City made the P5''s military response necessary. Describing P5 losses from the operation as minimal, the P5 has confirmed that SOPO and RAU have surrendered control over Six Trees and the district is now being held by the P5 task force with assistance from ORPO. The P5 has delivered a message of thanks to the Council for their cooperation, regardless of how belated such cooperation is. It is under these circumstances that the UN P5 has formally revoked The Council''s authority and assumed temporary administrative control over the Six Trees District pending a full investigation of the riot as well as the URI as a whole. The P5 has sent its own team of investigators to The City and is working in close cooperation with ORPO to bring the truth to light. The UN P5 has also announced as part of a travel advisory that until further notice, Six Trees District is no longer regarded as part of The City and is to be considered P5 sovereign territory. As such, all transit in or out of the district requires a valid travel document. ORPO has been licensed to carry out policing in the Six Trees District under the supervision of a UN appointed provisional governor. All residents of Six Trees are therefore advised to register themselves at their nearest ORPO station for the relevant documents to be issued. In other news, the prestigious Unity Academy was rocked by scandal today when the Head of Administration, Catriona Alley, was at the Academy grounds publicly taken into custody by ORPO for questioning. ORPO have refused to answer any questions regarding this case, only stating that they have received a warrant from the Magistrate to keep Mrs Alley in remand. We have not been able to get in contact with Mrs Alley and Unity Academy has stated that they are in consultation with their general counsel with regard to their next step. We shall keep you updated as this story develops. Have you seen this man? Special Operations Police is looking for Daffyd Gallant, also known as David Greer, also known as John Doe to facilitate investigations into multiple cases of terrorism, murder and inflicting grievous bodily harm. If you have any information regarding his whereabouts, contact the SOPO hotline XXXXXXXXXX or the nearest SOPO station immediately. Do not, we repeat, do not, attempt to approach or apprehend him yourself. He is regarded as armed and extremely dangerous. Contact the authorities immediately if you have seen him. That''s all we have for tonight. United Nations City Broadcasting Corporation signing off. Relevance and The Running Man "Transmigrator, wake up." the familiar rasp nags me back to consciousness. With a start, I open my eyes that had been crusted over with a thin red film. My vision is blurry and it causes my head to hurt whenever I try to focus on anything in particular, but I can tell that I have been buried under the building that I was fighting in. The rubble created from the assorted detrius of plaster, concrete, brick and steel forms a snug cocoon around me, enshrouding my prone form. My body lies on the uneven ground with the clothing in tatters. All my equipment is gone. Groaning, I try to pick myself back up into a seating position, but quickly realize that I don''t have any feeling from my body at all. My body remains completely unresponsive no matter how I try to move. There isn''t even a feeling of numbness. More like there is absolutely nothing there. Shit. Did that Chance woman paralyze me? I try to speak, but my throat is completely dry to the point where my lips have begun to crack. My tongue feels like sandpaper. "Can''t move." I manage to rattle from my rusty throat. "Do not force yourself." The Voice says, sounding weak and spent, "The stress you had accrued had reached a critical level and I only managed to separate you from Master Chance at the last moment. If the fight had continued any further, Mr Gallant''s body would have exploded, ending your life." Wow. Things must have gotten really hardcore when I passed out from the pain of being incinerated. Gallant must have taken over the fight from that point. "Don''t remember anything from the point I was getting burned alive." I grumble. The Voice rumbles softly, "I figured as much. After Master Chance unleashed her inheritance against you, you stopped responding to all my communications, as if you could not hear me. You also began casting magic freely again. I concluded that you had lost control of the body to Mr Gallant and decided to intervene directly before Mr Gallant did something he could not take back." Inheritance? What''s that? Still, I better get my bearings first before asking more about that Chance person. "You can do that? Intervene directly? Why do you need me then?" I ask. "It was only thanks to you." The Voice explains, "You had introduced a sufficient amount of instability into the route, causing matters to spiral out of Fate''s control. That gave me the opening to unleash my power directly against Master Chance." "So, we won then? No more bad end for us?" I ask hopefully as the feeling of pins and needles begins to spread throughout my body. The Voice is silent at my question. That''s not good. It finally responds, "Unfortunately no. Fate had also decided to step in and the two of us were deadlocked. Our struggle badly damaged this facility and I took the opportunity to collapse the floor, allowing Mr Gallant to retreat. I then dropped the building on Master Chance, but she survived the impact." Yeah. Things got incredibly hardcore there. The Voice continues, "Once the dust settled, Mr Gallant''s sister and Archmage Naiberg retrieved both the codex and Master Chance. So to answer your question, no, we at best managed a draw in the battle several nights ago." "Several nights ago? I was out that long?" I croak, "Actually never mind that. Are you telling me that after all that fighting, we are still doomed? How in the world is that a draw?" The Voice replies consolingly, "Yes and no. While we have not managed to divert destiny''s course, our efforts have put the final conclusion of the alternate route into abeyance. With the destruction of this facility, Fate does not have the means of weaponizing the codex against me. It will take Fate a substantial amount of time to rebuild what has been lost here. Until then, the clock has stopped, so to speak."The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. I breathe a sigh of relief. But before I can say anything further, The Voice cuts in, "Make no mistake though, this is a reprieve, nothing more. We have bought ourselves more time to deal with this problem, but it will resurface again later." I grunt in acknowledgement. Honestly, after all that has happened, I am willing to take this outcome as a win for us. I doubt either of us would have managed anything better under the circumstances. Feeling begins to return to my legs. I will probably be able to move my body soon in a few more minutes. "So what''s the deal with burying me in the rubble? Couldn''t you have arranged for me to be dug out?" I query, feeling slightly more energetic now. The Voice rasps back, slightly annoyed, "It was because of me that you were not discovered. This allowed me to work on the body undisturbed. The rubble was used to protect and hide Mr Gallant''s body from the rescue team''s interference. I had also sabotaged their equipment to prevent them from finding you. Mr Gallant''s body was literally spraying blood everywhere during the last moments of the fight. Try guessing what would happen if the rescuers tried moving the body." Ouch. As feeling returns to my left arm, I gingerly trace a finger along the scars on the body. The Voice is right, I feel crusted blood lining the cracks of the scars. The last moments of the fight must have been really ugly for Gallant to have pushed the body so far. "The other reason why I hid your body was because Mr Gallant had been recognized by his sister during the fight and she duly began making a fuss once the rescue team arrived." The Voice continues, "While that might not have been a problem by itself, her positive identification of you allowed SOPO to connect Mr Gallant to both the warehouse and highway attacks as well as Trietel''s murder. If you were picked up by the rescue team, you would quickly find yourself imprisoned in a guarded hospital ward, completely at Fate''s mercy." "How did SOPO identify me?" I protest, "I thought you had scrubbed all the sites where I was active?" The Voice sighs, "I did clean up all the sites you were at, including this one. Ironically that was what allowed SOPO to link all the cases together. None of the sites had evidence of Mr Gallant using magic, including this one. Unfortunately, his sister in her statement to SOPO proudly stated that Mr Gallant had been unleashing war mage level magic in his fight against Master Chance. While seeing her faith in her brother being so publicly vindicated is touching, it has just caused more problems for us. SOPO saw the link between a clean crime scene and someone nevertheless using magic there. I had also hoped that by keeping you hidden SOPO would declare Mr Gallant dead, but the fuss Mr Gallant''s sister has raised convinced them that he may have survived." With some effort, I finally manage to get into a sitting position and begin to flex my stiff muscles. Everything is sore. The most worrying part though, is my right arm. Its completely dead. It hangs from my shoulder lifeless and inert, regardless of what I do. The Voice notes my alarm and explains, "I have repaired what I could, but your right arm suffered a truly catastrophic level of damage. Only time will heal what has been lost." The cocoon of rubble cracks open and I find a long passageway formed out of detritus leading upwards. Taking this as my cue to get moving again, I pick myself up and begin my trek. As I start putting one foot in front of the other, I ask, "I suppose going back to the apartment at the campus is out of the question? Are we returning to the sarcophagus then?" "No." The Voice says, "The corpses of Fate''s lackeys were discovered on the platform and the police have begun to investigate. While returning to the hub is certainly a safe, tempting move, it is more likely an inducement laid by Fate to trap us with. Your freedom of movement would be badly compromised, as every time you tried to sally forth, you would need to avoid police patrols or scrutiny at the inclinators. Eventually our base would become a prison, trapping you within and allowing Fate a free hand." With a grunt, I push aside a wall made out of collapsed masonry and find myself back at the reception area of the lab, or what is left of it. The place is completely barren save for debris and solidified pools of slag that had been mixed with ash. Not a soul is in sight. The rescue team must have left a while ago. The wall dividing the reception area from the corridor leading to the entrance had also collapsed. In fact, the entrance itself has collapsed into an unrecognizable heap, giving me a clear view of the lab''s parking lot. And there, to no one''s surprise is the black cab, waiting for me. "So where are we going then?" I ask. The Voice replies, "The Six Trees District, or as it is known now, the Six Trees Interim Administration Zone." I pull at the passenger door of the cab but find that it is locked. That''s odd. I swear that I heard an unlocking sound just now. I check each of the doors, but the result is the same, they are all locked. What gives? With a creak, the boot yawns open. The Voice in obvious amusement pronounces, "Get in." Conversations In The Dark The sweltering darkness presses upon me and I try shifting my body in an attempt to get more comfortable, but its really no use. Fitting into cab''s boot as instructed by The Voice was possible, but it required me to curl my body up in what was close to a fetal position. There simply was not enough room in the boot for me to shift my prone position into something more natural. The experience was made worse by the heat and stuffiness caused by the enclosed area. "I need to pee." I complain to The Voice. "Go ahead and urinate in your pants." The Voice indifferently replies, "Those clothes can no longer be used anyway." I stifle a sigh before shooting back, "You should try being more supportive of your employees. Its a well known fact that employees who are encouraged and supported by their bosses perform better at work." The Voice rasps, "I am extremely supportive of my servants, if you do not mind." Oh, really? This ought to be good. I am wondering just what The Voice''s definition of "supportive" is. "Transmigrator, you are a working adult." The Voice asks, "Tell me, would your employer back in your own dimension allow you to urinate all over company property without repercussion?" "Pardon?" I dumbly mutter as my mind goes blank at The Voice''s outrageous statement. "Exactly." The Voice continues smugly, "I have provided you an outlet for self-actualization that would not have been available back where you came from. While I do not approve of your choice of expression in this matter, I will nevertheless allow you to urinate freely all over not just your trousers, but also the boot itself. Do not feel obliged to hold back Transmigrator. You have my blessing." I am left completely speechless and my mouth is left hanging open at the ridiculous and outlandish response from The Voice. I finally gather my wits and grumble, "Never mind. Look are we there yet? It feels like I have been stuck in this boot for hours." The Voice rumbles back, "Its been barely an hour, and I have explained this already. The P5 have set up a checkpoint on the border of Six Trees and are only allowing people and vehicles with the proper papers through. We are still caught in the congestion caused by this checkpoint. Be patient." I try shifting myself around the boot again to the exact same result, or more precisely, lack of result. The Voice, to my surprise, goes back to the earlier point it had made about that business of being supportive. "More seriously, Transmigrator," The Voice says, "being supportive of someone does not mean providing them with the means of self-destruction. We have the benefit of an object lesson right in front of us regarding this matter." "Who''re you talking about? The Hero?" I say while squirming about like a trapped fish. Damn, still no good. Its just so bloody uncomfortable. "I am talking about Mrs Alley." The Voice replies flatly, "Thanks to the money that she received from us, she managed to get herself arrested by ORPO and is currently languishing in remand. ORPO is subjecting her to regular questioning. Mrs Alley has not said anything incriminating yet, but it is only a matter of time before she cracks and spills everything about her involvement with us." My ears perk up at hearing this news and a shaft of fear runs down my spine. Is Alley going to squeal like a trapped rat? Is the web closing? Shit. "How in the world did the money contribute to Alley''s arrest?" I query. The Voice ruminates for a moment before responding, "Mrs Alley used the money to smuggle her husband Jacob to a nature reserve. He is ill you see, and his condition makes him both violent and contagious. Mrs Alley likely believed that it was only a matter of time before the doctors put Jacob to sleep as his condition continued to deteriorate. Spending the rest of his days living like a wild animal is certainly the better alternative." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "The problem is that smuggling someone like Jacob out from The City is not cheap," The Voice elaborates, "The cost is well beyond Mrs Alley''s means, even with the money she was skimming from the Academy''s accounts. That was the reason why Jacob had remained in The City until recently. Mrs Alley had forgotten that Jacob''s sudden absence would alert everyone around her that something was wrong. Mrs Alley was also far too single minded in her desire to save Jacob as well as to get rid of him from her life. She lost her ability to remain circumspect and contacted a nature reserve to remove Jacob as quickly as possible. It was no surprise that someone grew suspicious and informed the police." Sending your own husband into the wilderness. If anything this incident shows just how outlandish this world is despite appearing relatively normal to outside appearances. Dabbing the sweat from my brow, I consider what The Voice had said before asking the real question on my mind, "What is going to happen once Alley starts talking to the police? How will it impact us moving forwards?" The Voice pauses for a moment, considering my question, before answering, "I doubt anything of note would happen to us. Mrs Alley does not have any incriminating evidence regarding us, other than the unsubstantiated stories she can relate to the police about the interactions between the both of you. Mrs Alley also has no way of proving the cash paying for Jacob''s safari trip originally came from us. Compared to the problems that you will be facing from SOPO, none of these issues are anywhere close to being as severe." Well that''s a relief, sort of, I think to myself as I feel the cab begin to crawl forward again. The traffic snarl up must have begun moving somewhat. My relief at the journey continuing is quickly extinguished when the cab comes to a complete stop yet again. "Where exactly are we now actually?" I grumble. "We have just entered the queue for automated vehicles at the P5 checkpoint." The Voice says, "Be patient a little longer." "And no one at the checkpoint is going to check the boot of this cab? Seems a bit careless to me." I shoot back, growing increasingly irritated at my discomfort. While understand the need to hide as I was now a fugitive, it did not mean I had to like it. The Voice notices my annoyance and soothingly replies, "The P5 troops are shorthanded and they need all available personnel to check the papers of everyone trying to move in or out of the Interim Administration Zone. They have instead set up a scanner to deal with automated vehicles without passengers. Getting past the scanner is not a problem for me. The only way you could be detected is if you decided to pop the boot open in order to stretch your legs." "And getting into this Admin Zone would keep me safe right?" I say, "I recall you telling me that Six Trees is no longer under The City''s control." "Correct." comes the familiar rasp, "The Council has formally acknowledged that it no longer has jurisdiction over Six Trees. For all intents and purposes, Six Trees is in law a separate country. SOPO will not be able to arrest you in Six Trees for any of the incidents they are investigating. More importantly to our objectives, Six Trees is close to Ascension Tower." "How is that relevant?" I curiously ask. The Voice rasps, "While you were resting, I had been engaged in a continuous series of skirmishes with Fate over the codex. I attempted to engineer accidents to render the codex lost or inoperable, while Fate tried to secure it by creating a fresh Place of Power. Neither of us got very far with our plans in the face of opposition from the other, and Fate eventually gave up on the idea of creating a Place of Power. Fate has settled for the codex being moved to Ascension Tower where it is currently held under heavy guard." No wonder The Voice sounded so tired when I woke up. "My intervention is required, as you would put it?" I answer. "Yes, once I have investigated Fate''s defenses thoroughly." the cab crawls forward again, but this time instead of stopping it speeds up, as if it had finally cleared the checkpoint. "We are through. We will reach the hideout I have prepared shortly." The Voice confirms. "I notice you''ve avoided talking about a certain matter." I remark to The Voice. A questioning rumble is all I get in return. "Chance and the bullshit mid-fight power up she pulled out of her ass." I press further, "You called her an Incarnate back at the lab. So what''s the deal with that?" The Voice pauses, gathering its thoughts before saying, "Incarnates are a complicated matter. It would be better if we had this discussion in the hideout. What I can say here is that the Incarnates possess a very deep connection to Fate and if the presence of Master Chance is a sign, it appears that Fate has become desperate enough to directly deploy her most prized assets against us." "No shit. I saw Fate''s red thread sprouting out from Chance''s spirit core. Are Incarnates champions or something like that?" I respond. "No." The Voice grimly states, "They are the descendants of Fate''s lovers." And for the second time tonight, my jaw is left hanging open. A Man of The Arts "Alright. We have arrived." The Voice announces to my relief as the boot finally pops open, letting in a gust of warm, stale smelling air. I stretch my legs, hearing audible pops coming from the joints and relishing the feeling of blood moving in them again. The sensation of both my legs having fallen asleep quickly passes and I climb out of the boot. Getting my bearings, I realize that The Voice had brought me to an underground parking garage, a large one in fact. From the number of parking lots available, I presume that this parking garage is part of either a mall or an office complex. The thing is, all the lots are empty. The only vehicle parked presently parked in the garage is the black cab. We must have gotten here really late in the evening, or really early in the morning. "There is an unmarked door a short walk to your right." The Voice says, "Make your way there." Following The Voice''s instructions, I begin walking in the prescribed direction, my footsteps echoing throughout the empty garage. In no time at all, I find myself before a large metal door that has been fitted on to the wall before me. The wall itself appears to have been extended using new construction, carving out a room from the garage. Curious. As I approach the door, I hear the sound of it unlocking. Guess this must be the hideout then. Opening the door and stepping in, I see that the room is literally two completely different locations crudely bolted together. On my left, the room is decorated in the style of a cubicle drone''s office, with the usual desk and chair combo coupled with a familiar looking laptop sitting unobtrusively on the desk. There have been a few additions, most notably a mattress placed carelessly across the floor, a wardrobe crammed into the corner and a small fridge situated under the desk. On my right, however, is a public toilet. Yes. A public toilet with a pair stalls. Along with the stalls, is a sink with a mirror for washing up. Checking the stalls out, one appears to be used for taking a shower and the other for taking a dump. My mind is completely boggled at this odd set up. "What in the world is this place?" I ask The Voice. The Voice rasps, "Welcome to the pit. A somewhat dirty secret that has been swept under the rug by the company Belial Logistics. Originally, someone had rented this part of the garage to run a car wash and waxing service. When that venture failed, the building management repossessed the lot, but left the electrical and water connections undisturbed. When Belial Logistics, who have their corporate office in the floors above us, heard that the lot was once again available for rent, they took it off the management''s hands, built the wall you see around it and refurbished it as an executive office and public latrine." "That, that makes no sense at all." I protest incredulously. "Oh it does, once you know that Belial Logistics takes pride in providing its employees with jobs for life, in return for them working in near unacceptable conditions." The Voice replies, "The grand bargain Belial Logistics had made with their staff made it impossible to sack redundant employees. Therefore such employees had to be provided with certain incentives in that direction. The pit is one such incentive." Yeah. Its starting to make sense now. "Employees that have been earmarked for redundancy are promoted to an executive position and granted this personal office. At the same time, other members of the staff would be instructed to drop by during the day to relieve themselves in front of their colleague or to take a shower before going home." The Voice continues, "As all staff of Belial Logistics have the personal responsibility of keeping their workplaces neat and tidy, guess who has to clean up the public latrine?" I shudder. I had heard about stuff like this happening occasionally back home, but this is the first time I am seeing the set up for the practice. "Even if Chad Thunder Dump decides to show up?" I ask. The Voice laughs, "Especially if your hypothetical Mr Thunder Dump decides to show up. Not many employees can tolerate this kind of treatment and the pit has a close to one hundred percent success rate in encouraging departures from the company." "So, why not one hundred percent?" I query. The Voice rumbles, "Eventually the pit became host to a member of the staff who could tolerate this level of treatment, as he was waiting for the clock to run down to the date he can cash out on his company benefits for long service. Belial got wise to this and sacked him for an alleged case of poor performance, on the ground that the latrine was apparently not cleaned properly. A court case was brought against Belial by the employee and the court decided in the employee''s favor, ordering Belial to pay the benefits and additional damages. The myth of the pit was broken and the other staff came to know about how to get the better of it. Belial then had the place locked up and handed it back to the building management where it has laid abandoned until today." Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. "Nice story." I remark, "So this is going to be our base then?" "Yes." The Voice says, "I have prepared your dinner and left it in the fridge. Feel free to clean yourself up and fill your stomach. When you are ready to continue our discussion, turn on the laptop." .... The laptop boots up and starts playing what I assume to be an ad for a visual novel. "Winner of Otome Game of the Year Award for XXXX. Winner of Moe Game of the Year for XXXX. Runner up for best VA of the year for XXXX." The laptop proudly announces. Uh, ok? I am assuming that this VN is some kind of propaganda put out by Fate maybe? "Now released in HD edition!" The laptop squawks, "The legend comes to life!" Sure. Fine. Just get to it. The laptop now displays an anime cut scene of a young lady in an aristocratic getup being chased by orcs or goblins. Well, indeterminate fantasy monsters. The monsters quickly grab the lady and prepare to drag her off to the rape dungeon. But before that happens, a trio of ridiculously good looking men show up and start beating the shit out of the monsters. As the camera pans towards the action, it begins to focus on each of the men in turn, giving the name of the character and the identity of the voice actor portraying him, followed up by a vocal clip of the character speaking. A knight looking guy decked out in heavy armor holds back multiple opponents with a double handed sword. Sir Castiel is his name, according to the ad. "I am the princess''s sword and shield. I will protect her to the end." The serious looking blond man intones. The next character immediately gets my attention. A savage looking man with cat eyes and flaming hair rends apart multiple monsters with claws growing from his hands. The name Prince Enma is emblazoned across the screen as the bloodthirsty nut goes to town. "Her highness showed me a better path, gave me the chance to be a better man. None of you will get past me!" he shrieks like a loon as blood stains his expensive looking clothes. No way. The similarities with Chance are uncanny. Chance even mentioned the same name during our fight. But before I can ask The Voice any questions, the ad continues, this time showcasing a slight looking man with gentle features, fighting back the pack of monsters with a simple dagger. Instead of giving a name, the ad just identifies him as "Servant". "I''m not strong, but everything I am belongs to the princess. Even my life." the nameless man over dramatically declares. "Legendary heroes, fighting to protect the world, to protect their love!" The ad continues enthusiastically, "But will it be enough to stop the darkness in the South?" Yes. I am guessing yes narrator guy. Otherwise there would not be any point to the game, right? The ad now shows a scene of a man dressed completely in black robes cackling while presiding over an army of monsters. At a gesture from the obvious villain of the game, the monsters begin dragging screaming men and women up to a sacrificial altar. The villain draws a bloodstained knife from his robes and gleefully begins the slaughter. Just before the knife strikes home, the scene fades out to a splash screen of the Princess and the three Heroes posing together with the game''s name proudly on display. "Legend! Now on sale at all major distributors." narrator guy concludes. I just can''t help myself and begin to snigger uncontrollably. "What is so funny Transmigtator?" The Voice asks. "You," I respond between giggles, "Fate turned you into an anime villain. That''s what that entire ad was about right?" "The best is yet to come Transmigrator." The Voice says, "You will get a laugh from this. I promise." The laptop loads up a fresh video and I hear narrator guy again, "Years after the great war, in a time of peace and prosperity..." Another anime cut scene is displayed, this time showing a bustling medieval city before moving on to bountiful fields of crops and ships calmly passing each other by at sea. All in all, some kind of fantasy utopia. However, the sky gradually begins to darken and the scene shifts to the Princess sitting in a throne room, her face filled with worry. "Darkness rises again." Narrator guy continues. The black robed villain from the earlier ad tears himself free from being buried under a mountain and as the ground trembles at the villain''s awakening, monsters begin to spawn out of the fissures forming in the earth and assemble into neat ranks like an army. The ground shifts once more under the villain''s feet, forming into a viewing gallery that towers over the army, allowing the villain to inspect his troops from a lofty vantage point. One of the monsters, clad head to toe in armor and riding a black horse, trots his horse towards the gallery and gives the villain a salute. Then it hits me. The guy on the horse, its an anime representation of me. The armor, while having all the anime frills and embellishments that you would expect, is clearly based on the cop uniform I have been using. The guy''s weapon load out is roughly the same as well. A sword strapped on his back. A mace hanging on the belt, probably standing in for the baton. And a pistol in its holster. The horse must be a representation of the bike. I can tell because the horse is fully clad in barding which mimics the bike''s distinctive paint scheme. The villain gestures to anime me who in turn leads the army on an attack against a village. While anime me is busy killing random townspeople and burning the place to the ground, the cut scene shows a small group of warriors managing to smuggle something out from the village underneath my nose. Its the warehouse attack. There''s nothing else that this scene refers to. The scene fades to black as narrator guy concludes, "But there is still hope. The princess calls for heroes. Heroes who can take up the mantle and ascend to become legends." I swallow hard as the ad concludes with a "Coming Soon" splash screen. "I do not hear you laughing, Transmigrator." The Voice rasps. The Enemy Within I apprehensively lick my lips after the videos played on the laptop conclude. Taking a swig from a bottle of water that The Voice provided, my mind whirls with the possibilities why Fate would go about so brazenly advertising its conflict with The Voice. Was this an attempt to recruit more cultists? A play at garnering public sympathy perhaps? Or simply just a declaration of war to both The Voice and I? The Voice picks up the discussion once more, "To answer your question as to what Master Chance is, she is the descendant of that rather dashing demon man you saw in the first video. As the video states, the "Princess", or Fate as we know her, kept three men who doubled as both her lovers and leg breakers. Their respective descendants still bear Fate''s blessing on their souls and in times of peril, can call upon Fate''s power to assist them accordingly." I blurt out, "You mean the plot of that visual novel is actually true? Fate was an otome heroine who cultivated a harem?" The Voice rasps discontentedly, "In broad outline, yes. Fate can be considered as this world''s first Heroine and she recruited her band of simpletons in an effort to destroy me. Fate and her Heroes were an out of context problem that I was not prepared to face, and they came very close to succeeding, forcing me into hiding for a time. Nevertheless, once I researched the metaphysics behind the creation of Heroes as well as Heroines and developed appropriate countermeasures, I turned the tables on them." Now this is getting interesting. "So Heroes weren''t something that you originally came up with? How did Fate work out the process then? Was she a genius of some sort?" I ask. A disdainful snort comes from The Voice, "Fate simply got lucky. She discovered the detritus of a precursor civilization that possessed the knowledge of the ascension process. With that she and her lovers became the equivalent of demigods, wounding me gravely and ruling with iron fists while I recovered in seclusion." "Precursor civilization?" I repeat, completely taken by surprise. I wasn''t expected that as part of The Voice''s answer. "I do not know much about them." The Voice replies indifferently, "I never bothered with contacting them and they were destroyed by this world''s tectonic movements in due course. Though in hindsight, I should have taken a greater interest in them. Their works have certainly managed to spring a rude surprise on me and even up to this day, the impact of their civilization can still be felt." "The codex. You''re talking about the codex." I remark, the pieces fitting together in my mind. If the codex came from the people who had worked out how to produce Heroes, no wonder The Voice had freaked out so badly about it. The Voice grunts in agreement with my statement. "Then why aren''t we seeing mass produced Heroes being churned out by Fate?" I ask, "After all, she knows the process of how they are made." The Voice rumbles with satisfaction, "Oh, Fate would dearly love to do something to that effect. After all, that is why she started building a harem in the first place. A giant extended family of gods, all under her thumb through ties of blood. Her dominance would be assured under such circumstances." The Voice takes a breath, continuing, "Unfortunately for her, one of the first breakthroughs I accomplished was managing to manipulate unborn children in the womb. All of this world''s children have a kill switch installed by me during the period of their gestation. Once they begin to develop undesirable metaphysical traits, the kill switch will be set off and the child will suffer massive organ failure. While this method has been largely successful, in the eternal metaphysical arms race between us, Fate managed to develop a work around of sorts." Damn, killing children just because they might be a threat to you. That''s cold Voice. I am also beginning to have my suspicions about a certain scene the anime was showing involving you. Stolen story; please report. The Voice, unaware of my internal monologue continues its explanation, "Fate''s solution was to develop the souls of this world''s natives even further, allowing her to further evolve spirit cores. As I cannot detect or interact with a spirit core outside of my places of power thanks to Fate''s dominance over souls, Fate opted to try concealing her blessing within the spirit cores of what would eventually become the Incarnates. The core would keep the blessing dormant until such time it determines that the Incarnate''s soul is strong enough to override the kill switch. At that point, the blessing will be unlocked for the Incarnate''s use as well as rendering the Incarnate highly susceptible to Fate''s influence." "Are you saying that there are multiple Incarnates running around at this moment?" I exclaim. No way. If that was true, I was in big trouble. That second ad about the sequel to the Visual Novel might be a coded message from Fate telling the Incarnates to hunt me down. "Yes." The Voice deadpans, before laughing at my groan of distress, "Hear me out first before panicking. Fate and myself possess equal power, so in theory, Fate''s plan would allow her to foil my kill switch. However, this plan requires Fate to concentrate the blessing into a single vessel for that vessel to have any chance of disregarding my countermeasure. Splitting her blessing into multiple Incarnates would dilute its effect, ensuring that my kill switch would end them all without exception." "So, what you''re saying as that there are multiple incarnates in existence, but only one descended from each lover?" I respond hopefully. "Correct." The Voice affirms, "Three Incarnates per generation. That is all Fate can manage. You have already faced one, the Incarnate of Prince Enma, and survived. Fate is no doubt feeling very disappointed at the moment." "But I got the feeling that Chance was just there at the lab when I arrived." I muse, "I didn''t get the impression that she was a Fate cultist or anything like that." "That is because Master Chance, in the strict sense, is not a lackey of Fate." The Voice comments, She is not part of that cult Fate has set up. Nor is she working with them. However, thanks to the strong connection she possesses with Fate, she is inspired to be at the right places at the right times. She is guided by her gut feeling to meet with the right people to shepherd events along Fate''s prescribed path. She also feels instinctive hostility against Fate''s enemies. Until the blessing is activated, her spirit core also has no obvious differences with a standard core. These traits make the Incarnates as a whole, not just Master Chance, extraordinarily dangerous opponents. You must never let your guard down, Transmigrator." No shit. After hearing The Voice''s description of how Incarnates operate, I understand why it wanted to have this conversation in a secure location. Without an actual real world connection to Fate''s cult, Incarnates could operate freely without The Voice getting wise to them. As long as their spirit cores remained in stealth mode, Incarnates were also indistinguishable from a vanilla mage. Literally anyone could be an Incarnate. They were the perfect spies and assassins. I had originally intended to lobby The Voice to get me a better hideout, but after digesting this news, being surrounded by concrete and metal never felt so reassuring. But there is a feeling of unease I just cannot shake. Fate has the ability to evolve a soul. Or more precisely, the knowledge of how to do something like that. Part of the "enhancements" an Incarnate is granted is a tighter connection to Fate. That was probably why Chance became the Hero''s instructor. Fate wanted to keep an eye on him. Maybe influence the Hero into derailing his own destiny. Only three Incarnates per generation, but that is not due to defective methodology on Fate''s part, but because it was a power issue. Incarnates needed to get a big boost to be able to survive activating their blessings. But what if there was no need to grant the blessing? What if Fate just wanted a spy? "Hey, your kill switch, it only activates once a blessing is detected right? No other circumstances count?" I ask, my heart in my mouth. "Of course." The Voice rumbles, "I am not a monster Transmigrator. If the natives are not in league against me, they have nothing to fear." Right. Only blessings will trigger the kill switch. "Next question." I press on, "The Heroines will only activate their enhancements once they have met the Hero right?" "Yes. I believe I have told you this before." The Voice answers, "What are you getting at Transmigator?" My heart sinks at The Voice''s response. If my guess is correct, The Voice''s entire plan had been compromised right from the start. "Pull out the file on Magic Police Girl." I tell The Voice urgently. The Voice wordlessly complies and the relevant documents fill the laptop''s screen. Flicking through the documents, I finally find the one I am looking for. A medical report on Magic Police Girl, confirming that the treatments her father subjected her to increased her spirit core growth. Before she ever met the Hero. "We have a problem." I announce. Declaration of Intent "And then I just threw the gauntlet down, ''What kind of man shoots someone else in the back?'' Just like that." Master crows proudly to her adoring audience as she leans heavily on the walking stick she got from the hospital. "What happened next? What happened next?" Kira excitedly asks. Ken stands beside Kira while staring raptly at Master, nodding along enthusiastically. Master gets more into the story as her voice begins rising in volume, "He slashed at me with that sword of his, trying to behead me right off the bat. But I caught the blade and destroyed the sword with my magic. Then, as the Master of The Path of Judgment, I unleashed the Fire of Perdition against the villain, ravaging his body and soul. By the time the flames had died down, the coward had fled, but no one can escape judgment!" Inspector Scott, who has been standing quietly by my side, sourly remarks, "You ravaged Greer with the power of a fan club?" Rose and I turn to look at Inspector Scott with mystified expressions while Master''s face morphs into a look of embarrassment. Inspector Scott explains, "The Path of Judgment was originally a small society dedicated to the appreciation of some kind of mythological figure and the protection of history. When interest in the object of its admiration began to die off, they stirred up interest through comics and cosplay. These days, the Path still claims to be a serious society, but most of its members, are well, like its Master right here." Sera snickers quietly at Inspector Scott''s explanation while I am sent reeling. This is totally different from what Master had told Rose and I when we were still training under her. Wasn''t the Path supposed to be a group of holy warriors or something like that? Its now sounding a lot less impressive. Master shoots back in a fluster, "We are a serious society! We, you know, just want to live according to the principles laid down by Prince Enma is all. I mean, I have studied all the historical texts and practiced the manuals left behind by the Prince. And I do possess the Fire of Perdition, don''t forget that. The proof of our teachings is in the eating." "That''s just pyromancy. Very impressive pyromancy I''ll admit, but nothing mythological." Inspector Scott answers in a completely deadpan voice. Master makes some uncomfortable choking noises in her throat before awkwardly looking away. A look of disappointment crosses Rose''s face. Inspector Scott, smelling blood, goes in for the kill. "And are you sure you should be boasting about beating up your employer''s brother in front of all of us?" Master grumbles in reply, "She''s not here now is she? The meeting between Gustav and all the big wigs has not ended yet. Anyway, she was overjoyed at the sight of her brother and I trading blows, notwithstanding the fact that her brother killed someone right in front of us. Let me vent for a bit." Rose frowns gently at Master''s mention of Uncle. Uncle had arrived at The City a few days ago and had settled into the vacant manor originally purchased for Rose. He then announced that a party would be hosted at the manor and invited pretty much everyone important in The City to attend. The most important of these important people were the big wigs Master had been talking about. Instead of partaking in the food and drink, Uncle had the VIPs whisked away upstairs for a closed door meeting. Rose and I were here at Uncle''s request. Neither of us had the chance to meet Uncle yet even though we were his guests. Ken was invited as the heir to his family while Kira and Master had come along as part of their employer''s entourage. Inspector Scott and Sera were by my side as bodyguards, because of one particular guest that Uncle had invited to the party as well. From across the room, I see Nicholas glaring daggers at me. Rose moves behind me for protection and holds on to my arm tightly. Beside Nicholas are a pair of tough looking demons wearing the uniform of the Legion. So, Nicholas did manage to get the Legion''s support at the end of the day. The vampire girl that we had fought previously walks towards Nicholas carrying a pair of glasses filled with champagne and hands him one. She notices us locking gazes with each other and gives me a polite smile before gently maneuvering Nicholas to another corner of the room. I breathe a sigh of relief. Given Nicholas''s dislike of me, I would not be surprised that he would become violent given half the chance. That was probably the reason why SOPO had ordered Inspector Scott and Sera to protect me tonight. As my attention is turned back towards Master, I realize that Kira and Ken have remained just as interested in Master''s story despite Inspector Scott''s barbs and are now badgering Master about her signature technique. Master quickly regains her spirits and starts to regale the pair on the details of her awesomeness as the three of them head towards the buffet counter. Stolen story; please report. Sera asks in an amused tone, "She seriously got you guys calling her ''Master'' based on her role in a group of hobbyists?" "Well Uncle seemed to go along with it as well." I reply, "No one really questioned Master''s claims. Everyone seemed to agree that she deserved the title, no matter how she actually got it." Rose nods in agreement, the confused look growing on her face. Inspector Scott answers, "That''s because despite of your Master''s eccentricity, her skills are the real thing. For example, the fight between her and Greer leveled an entire laboratory with both combatants freely throwing about magic. And she managed to walk away from that fight with her life. Not easy at all." Rose raises her eyebrows in surprise, saying, "This is the first time I heard you use the title ''Master'' Inspector." Inspector Scott shrugs in response, "Well, she deserves it." "Inspector, about Greer or Gallant .." I begin but Inspector Scott cuts me off. "Tensei, Irene will do." Inspector Scott, no Irene tells me, "I don''t want there to be anymore lies between us. You need to trust me if I am to protect you." I smile, "Irene then. Do you know who Greer was working for?" A frown from Irene, "No. We searched the apartment he was staying in but it had been completely cleaned out. Our sources in ORPO state that Mrs Alley had confessed to be working for Greer though." I blink in surprise at that. I knew Mrs Alley had been arrested recently, but no idea that it was connected to Mr Greer. Sera takes up the story, "ORPO had originally arrested Mrs Alley for suspected embezzlement of Academy funds, nothing to do with Greer. During the interrogation though, she admitted that Greer had paid her to do various odd jobs and provide him with a cover at the Academy. As to what exactly Greer was up to, Mrs Alley doesn''t know. Greer never filled her in on the details." My mind goes back to the night when I met Greer. Back then I wondered how I would fare if we had fought. Now, after seeing the aftermath of Master and him going at it, I have my answer. It was a good thing that Greer was probably not ordered to hurt me. Irene extends her hand to both Rose and myself, interrupting my train of thought, "I know that it was not fair to both of you for me to lie about being your teacher, so I want us to have a fresh start. No more canned exercises at SOPO HQ or pretend lessons at the Academy. From now on, I will be a real teacher to you Tensei, teaching you all I know about magic so that you will have the strength to make your own choices. Rose, I won''t allow you to come to harm on my watch again. No matter what happens in the future, I will be here, fighting in both your corners." Sera pipes in as well, "My duty as a SOPO officer and as your friend Tensei, obliges me to do the same as well. Rose, we may have our differences, but my sword will protect you too, especially if its from that slime Nicholas. No one deserves having her future taken away from her." Rose smiles happily and grasps Irene''s outstretched hand, "Thank you. Both of you." She then turns to look at me and says, "Tensei, you and Ken are still not talking right? I''ll do my part to bring Ken around. He has already forgiven Kira for her role in that eviction fiasco, its only his pride preventing him from making up with you. Leave it to me." I scratch the back of my head and respond awkwardly, "Thanks everyone. I''m not sure that I am worth so much trouble but really, thanks." Before anyone can reply, I hear loud footsteps coming down the manor''s central staircase. The doors to the room open and the various VIPs begin to filter into the room. I see the stiff form of Ms Gallant among them and both Kira and Master respectfully fall into step behind her. Ken walks to the side of an old, wrinkled man with a shaved head. His dad maybe? Irene and Sera immediately return to bodyguard mode, eyes sharp and alert. At the tail of the group of VIPs is a tanned elderly man with silver hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. His body has the look of someone who used to work out but left those days behind him, large but somewhat soft looking. A blank, neutral expression is on the man''s face. However, his pointed ears twitch slightly, betraying his agitation. The man scans the crowd, his gaze lingering on Nicholas, Rose and myself. Rose grabs my arm once more while Nicholas begins to sweat from his brow. The vampire girl scowls slightly and whispers something to him. At this urging, Nicholas nods and steadies himself. I pat Rose''s hand gently, but its more to my benefit then hers. After all, I never felt at home before the man before me. Uncle and I were always distant towards each other. After confirming that everyone''s attention is on him, Uncle announces, "My failure to properly handle the affairs of my territory has caused disturbance and inconvenience to all of you. For that I apologize." He then bows slightly to the crowd. Uncle then continues, "I have requested the presence of everyone here today to act as witnesses, so that a repeat of the disturbance will not occur." Nicholas frowns at this implied censure while the vampire looks on with a smug look on her face. "Nicholas, Rose, Tensei." Uncle intones, "Come forward." The three of us move to the front of the crowd at Uncle''s command. "Now, the three of you hear my decision," Uncle pronounces, "and fight for your futures." Back In Action "He did what now?" I ask The Voice while getting in line at the border checkpoint. The P5 had set up the checkpoint on the highway itself, cutting it into two. The checkpoint was divided into three sections, one for unmanned vehicles that only had a scanner on duty, one for small vehicles with passengers which had both the scanner and actual guards stationed there, and one for people, including me, who got here by bus. The final section obliged the bus''s passengers to disembark and be examined individually. That was the reason why I joined the queue of people listlessly shuffling forward at a glacial pace, with bored P5 soldiers ahead of us herding folk through a man-sized scanner that had been set up and towards the counter with a soldier located behind it. "I said that Gustav has announced that the successor of the entire von Amsterg territory would be selected through trial by combat." The Voice reiterates, "The exact rules of the contest have yet to be announced, but it pits all three claimants against each other for the right to be prince of Europe." I tap against the earpiece with my index finger, miming the act of speaking into a hands free mobile to prevent the crowd around me from getting suspicious. "That''s great. The brother sister duo hate Nicky''s guts. I think we got this one in the bag." The Voice answers approvingly, "Indeed. Nicholas has been placed at an extraordinary disadvantage. Gustav has managed to maintain the facade of impartiality while punishing Nicholas for appealing to the Legion for support and accepting Host money to fund that militia behind his back. Gustav has also cleverly avoided the trap Marshal St Clair had set for him. By setting the succession to be decided solely by the capabilities of the respective candidates, Gustav does not need to comment on the historical claims the Legions has over his territory." I fidget anxiously in line while continuing the conversation, "And Nicky''s bosses are OK with this? Accepting money from their biggest competition?" "The Legion certainly do not approve of it," The Voice rasps, "but Nicholas has locked himself in by publicly backing their historical territorial claims. They will overlook Nicholas indiscretion in favor of the larger picture." "And St Clair? How did she react to the news?" I ask. The Voice laughs delightedly, "Rather poorly. I had eavesdropped on Marshal St Clair''s conversations with Nicholas and she was confident that Gustav would at the very least confirm Nicholas as heir to half of the territory in light of pressure from the Legion, with the remainder up for grabs. She certainly did not expect Gustav to chance losing the territory in its entirety to Tensei just for the sake of spiting Nicholas." I shrug in response, "We''re not out of the woods yet though. Brother man might just decide to give everything up to his sister. Big G might be counting on that happening." "Heroine von Amsterg will play her role." The Voice answers confidently, "The Hero will come into his inheritance as intended." I hum noncommittally in response. The Voice would know its own creations best, though recent events have put that into doubt. "About the other one, the police officer." I begin talking once again, "You checked up on her yet?" The Voice rasps in a somewhat annoyed tone, "Heroine Naiberg appears to be functioning properly, but if her soul was tampered with as you hypothesized, I would need to examine her in a place of power to prevent interference from Fate. At present, I can confirm that her cognitive and physical functions are all normal. If Fate had turned her as you suspect, she would be acting as an observer rather than a saboteur or assassin."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. "That''s still pretty serious." I remark as the line shuffles forward again. Alright, time to activate the core in low output mode as The Voice had instructed me earlier. "It is." The Voice agrees, "We will need to deal with it at the earliest opportunity. A pity you no longer can freely deploy at the Academy. I am actively tracking Heroine Naiberg and will inform you when it is possible for us to snatch her for examination." I fidget once more as I approach the scanner set up by the P5 soldiers, the revolver and baton hidden under my jacket weighing heavily upon me. "You could have just sent for a cab to pick me up." I grumble. The Voice rasps, "You were complaining so much previously that I had thought you would appreciate the opportunity to cross the border while stretching your legs. At any rate, this experience should allow you to get the hang of the new function I have installed as part of your power set. You are clear on what you need to do?" "The whole transmission business? Yeah, I suppose so. More or less." I say as the guy ahead of me goes through the scanner without incident and pauses in front of a makeshift counter where he presents his papers to the soldier on duty. The Voice rumbles, "Just ''more or less''? Listen good. You already know that I have been manipulating the senses of the natives through the inanimate matter they consume. I have given you access to the frequency, so to speak, that I am using to perform this task. Just as I have compelled the natives to ignore Fate''s call, use the core to issue a mental command to the soldiers'' bodies, compelling them to ignore the fact that you are armed. It is simple. Just go ahead and try." The guy ahead of me passes through the checkpoint and the soldier before me gestures at me to walk through the scanner. I nod and begin walking as innocently as possible. The moment I pass through the scanner, it squawks in indignation and the soldier waves me to the side so that he can pat me down. It looks like The Voice is serious about this being a tutorial for the new power it had granted. Better not mess up then. As the soldier begins to pat me down with a bored expression on his face, his hand quickly closes in on the revolver. The moment he touches it, the soldier''s face immediately becomes alert and his grip tightens on me. In return I focus on the soldier and lock on to the minute presence of The Voice within his body. Water, partially digested food, actual shit. I sense The Voice''s power in these things, blinding the soldier to the yearning within his soul to draw closer with Fate. Grasping the signal, I send a message of my own into the soldier''s mind. Ignore the gun and baton. The soldier''s eyes dilate for a moment before he takes his hand away from the revolver and waves me towards the counter. "Nicely done." The Voice congratulates, "Not a problem at all, am I right? If anything, pulling this trick off would be easier for you to accomplish compared to myself as the natives can directly understand your mental commands. I have to work by manipulating their bodies, a far more complicated process to achieve the same thing." The soldier manning the counter flicks through the travel document and ID issued under Gallant''s name that The Voice had spawned for me. With my heart in my mouth, I wait for his response to my new status as a fugitive. "You sure you want to be going back out there?" the soldier asks. I nod in response. The soldier shrugs disinterestedly and I am allowed to pass through the checkpoint without further incident. I breathe a sigh of relief and shut off the core. Looks like The Voice was right about Six Trees being a safe refuge for me. No one here cares about whatever crimes I had committed in The City. It really is just like a completely separate country. As I scan my surroundings, I see the black cab parked by the side of the highway. Abandoning the bus that had originally taken me here, I make my way to the cab without delay. "No checkpoints on The City''s side of the border?" I question The Voice. The cab drives off the moment I get in and The Voice says, "After SOPO and RAU got literally bombed by the P5? The Council knows not to push their luck." As the cab cruises towards the horizon, The Voice announces, "Next stop, Ascension Tower." Restricted Access The black cab pulls to a stop by the side of the road close to the main entrance of Ascension Tower. I struggle not to scratch my face as the fake beard The Voice had spawned chafes uncomfortably. Along with the fake beard The Voice had provided a cheap pair of departmental store sunglasses and a drab looking trench coat to complete my disguise. Putting them on, I step out of the cab and open the boot, finding one of those spider drones The Voice is so fond of packed neatly in a cardboard box. I have no idea what I look like now, but from the ensemble The Voice had prepared for me, I suspect that I must look fairly stupid. "You are sure about this?" I question as I pick up the box, "No one is going to notice The City''s most wanted man walking openly about?" The Voice rumbles with amusement, "Its called hiding in plain sight Transmigrator. The outfit that I have provided you with gives the impression that you are a sex offender with something to hide. Most of the natives around you will instinctively give you a wide berth instead of investigating your presence. The minority who choose to challenge you can be dealt with using your upgraded powers." Wonderful. From a policeman to a pervert. I am really moving up in the world. As I walk towards the large glass revolving doors of Ascension Tower, I notice that the men and women that were originally milling near my location begin to move away, some with looks of disgust. "Do I really look so pathetic?" I whisper to The Voice. The Voice replies, "Actually no. I had woven a subliminal directive into the disguise you are wearing that will affect any native that looks upon you. The directive works by causing the viewer to experience a mild physical sensation of discomfort. That combined with the unsightly nature of your dress, encourages the locals not to interact with you." I whistle appreciatively and a pair of angel office ladies, thinking I was cat calling them, sneer derisively at me. "So this getup is actually magical?" I quietly ask. "No." The signature rasp shoots back in my ear, "The disguise is merely a code key to the inanimate matter already transmitting within the locals'' bodies. Once the key has been optically consumed by a native, the target''s brain chemistry alters my transmission already active within them, adding the desired effects." I have to admit its a pretty clever idea. Walking through the revolving door, the crowd before me parts like the red sea. I smile smugly to myself. These guys are being played and they don''t even realize it. Shows what looking down on someone gets you. I ignore the reception counter and head directly towards the elevators as instructed by The Voice. One of the guards, resplendent in his pure white uniform, notices me not bothering to check in and begins to head in my direction. I pointedly ignore the guard trying to get my attention and stop in front of an unmarked elevator that appears locked down. The rest of the locals that had been waiting by the other elevators notice the guard marching up to me and begin to start paying attention to the two of us. They probably expect the guard to throw the shady bum out. Let''s prove them wrong. The guard comes to my side, drawing himself up to his full height in an attempt to intimidate me with his admittedly impressive size. The guard''s halo quivers threateningly as he snaps at me, "Get out of here. This lift is restricted use." I once again ignore the guard and draw a pass card from the trench coat and swipe it with one smooth motion across the slot built into the wall next to the elevator. Upon doing that, the bio-metric reader beneath the slot comes to life, demanding that I verify my identity with my palm print. I place my hand on the glass sensor and with an approving buzz, the device lights up with a mellow green and the elevator''s doors smoothly open. "Access granted." a female voice from the elevator mechanically intones. I glare at the guard and sweat forms on his brow. "Sir." he finally chokes out and bows in apology. I nod in silence at him before stepping into the lift. Face slapping. Feels good man. ..... As the lift charges up Ascension Tower, I take a moment to review my mission here. Put simply, The Voice had tracked down the codex to the 50th floor of Ascension Tower, a high security area that was serviced only by this restricted access lift. The fire escape to the 50th floor had also been bricked off, separating the floor from the rest of the building. The codex itself had been placed at the very center of the 50th floor and from what The Voice could tell, several automated defenses and guards had been deployed to protect it. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. The problem was that the automated defenses and guards formed what could be best described as an outer layer of protection for the codex. The Voice had sensed an additional layer of guards that had been placed closer around the codex''s actual location. The problem was that there were no cameras or electronic devices that The Voice could hack in order to get the low down on this second layer of defenses. The guards deployed at the inner layer also never seemed to leave their posts. It was all very mysterious. The inner layer of the 50th floor had effectively been meticulously cleaned of any avenues that The Voice could use to gain access. The Voice knew that something was going on inside there, but had no idea what. That was the reason why I had been sent here today, to act as eyes on the ground. Once I scouted out the 50th floor, we would then be able to put together a plan of attack and end the threat to our lives once and for all. "You are almost there." The Voice says, "Two guards have gathered in front of the elevator to check your identification. Get ready." Game face on. I activate the core and ready myself as the elevator doors slide open. Before me stand the pair of angels The Voice was talking about, on of them with their palm raised, signalling me to stop. Before either guard can challenge me, I quickly fire off a mental command at them. Ignore. The guards immediately lose interest in me, halos dimming as they relax. I walk past them without incident and continue my journey deeper into the 50th floor. "Patrol heading in your direction." The Voice informs me," Hide in the corridor to your left until they pass." I slip around the turn as instructed by The Voice and not a moment too soon as footsteps begin to echo from the distance. Taking advantage of the enforced downtime, I cast my gaze about, looking for a vent to deploy the spider drone. Spotting a heating vent located close to the ground further into the corridor, I make my way there and begin unpacking the drone from its box. "Its safe to do this here right?" I query while working as quickly as I can. The Voice answers, "Yes. I am tracking all the patrols within the outer defense layer. You have roughly 4 minutes before a patrol heads down the corridor you are in." The drone chitters to life the moment I remove it from its box and I quickly pry the vent cover loose. The drone duly scuttles into the vent and I close it back up again. Picking up the pace, I scramble back to the corridor I was earlier in, now vacated by the patrolling guards. "This place is a dump." I comment while continuing my infiltration, following the directions provided by The Voice. A questioning rumble from The Voice, "How so, Transmigrator? Take the next turn to the right, by the way." I roll my eyes at The Voice''s response, "Have you looked at it? The walls are unpainted. The floor is bare concrete. There are no doors installed anywhere. There are crates and half assembled machinery everywhere. The windows are boarded up. The only things that work here are the lights and probably the security cameras." "The sentry turrets work as well." The Voice clarifies. What. I pause in my tracks as I emerge from the corridor into a wide open space that has kept clean of clutter and junk. At the other end of the room guarding the entrance to yet another corridor are three chainguns each mounted on a tripod and outfitted with what look like cameras. The trio of turrets lazily sweep the room but the moment I enter they swing their barrels in my direction and begin spooling up threateningly. Shit. "Smile. You are on camera." The Voice smugly taunts. "Cute." I grumble as the turrets resume their lazy search pattern. A guard emerges from the corridor guarded by the turrets, probably to investigate the noise caused by the guns spooling up. A quick mental command from me and he begins staring emptily into space, vainly investigating the cause of the disturbance. I enter the corridor the guard had come from and pass a simple security station built into its side. No gear worth taking here. Just a table with a bank of monitors on it, streaming live feed from the security cameras. Well not exactly live. The Voice had told me that looping video would be spliced into the feed once I began my infiltration to prevent me from being detected. The only other thing of note in the security station is a logbook, which is also of no use to me. "Transmigrator, wait." The Voice says, "I have managed to get the drone into the inner defense layer. Sending the video to you now." The image on one of the monitors abruptly breaks into static and after it comes back on line, shows the feed direct from the spider drone. Taken from the safety from one of the vents, the feed has a really awkward angle, preventing me from getting a clear picture of what The Voice wants to show me. However, I can see a guard standing in the distance. The drone focuses on the guard and I notice something. The uniform the guard is wearing is not white, unlike every guard I have seen so far. It also has that signature over the top gold braid. A SOPO uniform. Worn exclusively by humans. In a high security area controlled by angels. What in the world is going on? Man In Uniform After getting over my surprise of seeing a SOPO officer playing guard dog on the drone''s feed, I come to the conclusion that this was something I should have seen coming. It was SOPO that retrieved the codex from the sarcophagus in the first place after all and it was ultimately delivered to Naiberg, a human. Since working for Fate was something any of the three species were capable of, I could not write off the possibility inter-species cooperation just like that. What was more pressing was the issue of The City''s official support for whatever was going on here. Uniformed SOPO officers would not show up if this was just a private initiative on the part of a band of cultists. The drone''s camera pans slowly in the other direction, likely to prevent the SOPO officer of catching sight of the movement. Once the camera stops, I see a large wooden double door on the monitor, the only set of doors I have seen so far on this floor. What gets my attention is the thick length of lush green vine tied across the door''s handles. More than just not leaving their posts, the SOPO officers had barricaded themselves in the inner defense layer. Hats off to their dedication. "Can you take care of that door?" I ask The Voice. The Voice rasps in distress, "I can unlock it, but the vine holding the door fast is still alive. I have no power over the vine. You will either have to break the door down or find another way through." Damn. While this place is far less secure than Fate''s place of power, it was set up in such a way as to foil The Voice. Breaking the door down was a non-starter. Even if I could mind trick the guard into ignoring it, I would have no way of preventing the other guards from noticing the damage once I left the area. This was a sure fire recipe for triggering an alert. I look about the security station for something I can use. My eyes fall on one of the boarded up windows and the idea of removing the boards to gain access to the tower''s exterior comes to mind. Then I hopefully would be able to bypass the door and gain access through a different route. But the same problem would arise. The guards would notice the damage after I left. I begin flipping through the logbook in consternation, hoping for some kind of clue. Nothing more than a record of deliveries made to the 50th floor are recorded within, most of which I can''t make sense of. "What''s a PMU Soul Smasher Array?" I remark while continuing scanning through the logbook. "Laboratory equipment." The Voice answers, "Fate is likely trying to set up a replacement facility at this location to weaponize the codex. That would explain all the crates and machinery scattered about. The deliveries have been made, but the installation has not yet been done." Huh. Fate is probably holding back on calling the technicians in since it would immediately provide an opening for me to make my grand entrance. While Fate''s caution has bought us some additional time, it was only a matter of when not if, Fate comes to a sufficiently secure arrangement to set this place up. Reading the logbook further, I see food items have been included in the deliveries. Bottled water and sealed rations. That was probably the reason why the SOPO detachment never needed to leave the inner area. Everything they needed was brought to them. What''s more curious is that from the date of the food deliveries, this arrangement has been going on for way longer than the time the codex was actually deposited here. And there''s the really freaky stuff on the delivery list as well. Saline drips. Blood packs. Antibiotics. Adult diapers. Liquefied food products. Oxygen tanks. Again, deliveries for all these medical supplies started way before the codex got here. That only meant one thing. This place had been originally set up to protect something else, or more likely someone else. Most likely from The Voice taking into account the place''s configuration. The codex only came into the picture later. "Can your drone complete the mission by itself?" I ask while glancing at the monitor and putting down the logbook. "No." The Voice rumbles, as the monitor shows the drone darting back into the vent, "There are too many guards for me to evade. We need your ability to blind them in order to make any headway."If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I return to the corridor I was in and look down it to see the wooden double door leading into the inner area. No good going that way. I can''t stay here for long either, the guard will probably be returning soon. Then an idea strikes. Looking up at the ceiling, I see that it is covered with wooden slats, with cutaways for the lights. The same arrangement I saw at the Tower''s lobby. The Host must have gotten a discount on a bulk buy. Heading back to the security station, I climb onto the bank of monitors, using the height to reach the ceiling with my working arm. Tapping the slat within my reach, the sound confirms that the area behind it is hollow. Good. I then push at the slat and it lifts without resistance having merely being rested against a metal frame drilled into the concrete. Yes. Pushing the slat to the side, I gather my power into my legs and leap into the crawlspace between floors. My momentum carries me through the gap opened and my head smacks into concrete. My left hand forcefully digs into the concrete around me, allowing me to hang on despite the shock of knocking my head. Looking about, the crawlspace is way smaller and than I thought, but it is still traverseable, as long as I remain scrunched up on all fours. "Will the frame and the slats be able to take my weight?" I question. The Voice says, "No. I will help in holding the ceiling up though. Proceed with what you are doing." Awesome. No way the guards here would guess that a grown man would be scuttling through the crawlspace since it would be physically impossible without The Voice lending a hand. I pull my lower body through the gap and settle into an uncomfortable squat before sliding the wooden slat back into place. I then begin making my way in the direction of the inner layer using an uncomfortable shuffle-crawl. As I squeeze my way past the assorted vents and electrical wiring, The Voice rasps out mirthfully, "Squeezing yourself into the cab''s boot was good practice was it not? Already putting the lessons to use I see." "Very funny." I grumble while pausing to get my bearings. Using the matter sense that The Voice had imparted to me, I scan for a suitable location to drop down from the ceiling. The powers report that there is a large cluster of assorted food and medical supplies close to my location. Probably a store room of some kind. As good a place as any I suppose. I begin dragging my body in that general direction. Once I sense that I am right on top of the pile of clutter, I stop moving and lift up one of the wooden slabs to take a peek. What is below me is a room plunged in darkness with the dim outlines of various boxes and shelves barely visible. I quickly drop down from the ceiling and give my limbs a good stretching to work out the soreness acquired from my journey here. Nice. A locked storeroom to serve as my entry and exit point. The boxes would also serve as a makeshift stepladder when I wanted to leave. "The drone cannot move freely because of the SOPO patrols." The Voice informs me, "I will not be able to monitor guard movements for you." "Got it." I reply as I manually unlock the door and step out of the store room. And find myself staring face to face at three police officers seated at a long table each sullenly chowing down on a bowl of slop,. They look up from their disgusting meal in surprise and their hands begin moving to the pistols holstered by their sides. Ignore! My mental command hits the group like a tidal wave and they go back to their meal. Just as I am about to move on however, a sudden sharp pain rising from deep within my bones sends me stumbling. It must be the stress building up from using the core. There must be a hard limit on how many people I can bamboozle before Gallant''s body gives out. From the discomfort that I am feeling, I am probably close to that limit. "Can I attack someone while they are mind blasted like this?" I whisper to The Voice. "You could try," The Voice says, "but I do not recommend it. Your commands are not strong enough to override the natives'' instinct for survival or fundamental natures. Do something overtly hostile or order them to perform an act completely out of character and they will reject your commands as a matter of course." The spider drone then crawls out from a heating vent and makes its way out of the makeshift cafeteria through a bare concrete arch which is probably meant to have a door installed. I cover my nose as I pass a cheap metal sink filled to the brim with dirty dishes and follow the drone''s lead. Discipline must be pretty bad around here. No surprise if you are being cooped up for a long period of time. The drone quickly scuttles into yet another vent in the room ahead of me, which contains several rows of double bunks and piles of unwashed laundry. A crude barracks for the SOPO officers stationed here then. There are no weapons lying about though. The officers must keep the good stuff locked away somewhere else. Still, what is available here is suitable for my needs. I hurriedly change into one of the discarded uniforms lying about and holster the menacer revolver and baton to the uniform''s equipment belt. Once that is done, I climb onto one of the bunk beds and stuff my sex offender outfit into the crawlspace for retrieval later. This way I can rely on the confusion caused by my condition to get round the guards instead of overusing the powers. I leave the barracks and extend my senses, tracking the movements of the patrols. And close by I sense an alien presence. The codex. Time to see what the fuss is all about. Urban Jungle After memorizing the route to the codex and the timing of the SOPO patrols as far as I am able, I shut off the artificial core and feel my senses retract back to their mundane levels. Nothing for it though. From what matter sense had told me, the patrols in this area are pretty vigorous, making it impossible for me to avoid them entirely. I am going to have to chance being spotted by one of them and hope that the confusion caused by my presence gives me enough time to break line of sight. Setting off once again, I quickly reach the end of the corridor I am in and find myself at an intersection which leads to a large circular room in the center. The room itself is sealed by a mechanical sliding door locked by a card reader, in stark contrast to the room''s grey unpainted walls. No windows have been fitted onto the circular room''s walls, making it impossible for me to see what lies within. However, the last reading from the matter sense told me that the codex is somewhere inside this room, along with another set of guards. The challenge to getting to the room lay with the open space between it and the corridor I am currently in. Much like the area where the sentry guns had been set up, this place had been kept clean off crates and various junk. Peeking from around a wall, I see that the open area forms a circular race track surrounding the room and connecting to the rest of the floor through various bare archways on the side. Looking from the layout, I must be right at the center of the 50th floor. There was only one way into the circular room, which was through the sliding door. Four SOPO officers patrol this area in opposite directions, doing their laps at different timings around the impromptu racetrack, meaning their patrol sweeps would overlap with each other. This effectively guaranteed that anyone trying to break into the mechanical door would get spotted and attacked from both sides at once. Nasty. But not something I cannot deal with. "Deal with the door." I instruct The Voice as I get ready to make my move. "Just use the universal security pass I gave you earlier." The Voice rumbles as the spider drone drops from the ceiling into my arms, "Give me a ride while you are at it. The drone cannot cross the area without being spotted." Cradling the drone to my chest, I run as quickly as I can towards the sliding door and I hear a grunt of surprise from somewhere behind me. Then comes the sound of hasty footsteps which abruptly stop. Good, the officer has started to spazz out. I take out the security pass from my stolen uniform and swipe it across the card reader. The door slides open without protest and I dash in before the guy behind me has a chance to recover. As the door shuts, cutting the officer''s line of sight with me, I am struck by the humidity within this room and my eyes are temporarily overloaded by the literal green I see everywhere around me. Instead of bare concrete, a stone pathway has been built before me, cutting through thickly packed soil that has been strewn throughout almost every corner of the room. Various plants, vines and small trees have been planted in the soil, turning the room into an outrageous riot of green and providing the cover of dense foliage. The vines binding the entrance to the inner area must have come from this place. "An indoor arboretum?" I ask. "No idea." The Voice responds, "We are close now. Very close." The spider drone jumps down from my arms and disappears into the foliage. Shrugging, I start walking down the stone pathway towards wherever it leads. I am getting the impression that this place is more than just a secure area. Its looking more like a black site, the type that''s so super top secret that people get disappeared over it. As the path winds its way through the greenery, it terminates in front of a small squarish concrete block. A room within a room. An officer stands immobile by the wall of the concrete block, clearly watching for any interlopers. As he spazzes out upon spotting me, I quickly duck into the foliage, away from his sight. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Creeping through the foliage, I circle around the micro room, looking for a way in. An air conditioning unit is lodged into one of the micro room''s walls, rattling away noisily. The only other thing observable from the micro room itself is a simple wooden door, bound fast by a length of thick, green vine. Four officers are posted on each of the micro room''s sides, with looks of complete boredom on their faces. Unlike the earlier patrolling guards, these guys do not bother with moving at all, just keeping watch for anyone that tries to approach whatever is it they are guarding. What''s worse is that these guys are seriously strong. From the nimbus of spiritual energy exerted by each of them, I would estimate their strength to be individually at the level of Big Tits. "How powerful is Big Tits compared to the other cops?" I ask curiously. The Voice rasps, "Inspector Scott is a very highly regarded battle mage, seen as one of the best, if not the best in SOPO''s service. Why?" "These guys in front of us, I can tell that they are probably as strong as her." I reply, "Is this some sort of elite unit?" "Most curious." The Voice grunts, "From their uniforms, I gather that they are simply SOPO regulars. See the length of the gold braid they wear? Inspector Scott wears a far heavier amount." So gold braid is used to indicate power levels in SOPO? Good to know. But The Voice is right. These guys wear the same amount of gold braid that the guys outside wear. In fact, no one I have seen so far wears as much gold braid as Big Tits. The drone peeks out from the foliage beside me as The Voice continues, "Something worth investigating at any rate. I will take a record of their faces and do a database search later." "I can''t get past these guys if they''re not moving." I complain, "I think we have accomplished as much as we can for now." "Patience." The Voice rasps, "I sense two people moving about in that room before us. An opportunity will present itself." .... I allow myself to plop down on to the soil with a tired sigh. Its been more than twenty minutes and so far nothing has happened. The guards have not moved an inch and the people inside the room are still doing whatever they are doing in there. The only good thing that has happened is that the guards have not discovered me yet. A suddenly hear a hissing sound and before I can react, water is sprayed all over my face. Sprinklers. Whoever runs this place uses sprinklers to keep the plants hydrated. As I retreat under the cover of a tree, I grumble, "Patience is about running out here." The Voice rasps eagerly, "Stop complaining and listen." A loud rapping noise comes from the opposite side of the micro room''s door and the guard in front of it turns and begins untying the vine holding the door shut. Once the vine is removed, he opens the door and lets another guard, this one bearing a tray and cloth bag, exit the micro room. Squinting, I see that the tray holds an empty syringe and a small bottle. Medicine perhaps? There is also an expended blood pack on the tray as well. The guard that had opened the door turns his face away from the cloth bag with a look of disgust while holding his nose. Money is on that bag holding the adult diapers. Instead of sending the other officer away immediately, the guard instead engages his colleague in idle conversation, probably to deal with the boredom. As the two officers converse, the spider drone scuttles along the floor and slips in through a gap in the closing door of the micro room. I tense, waiting for the moment the other guy still in the room raises the alarm, but nothing happens. "Did the other guy in the room just not notice the drone?" I query. "I doubt he can notice anything at all." The Voice scoffs, "The codex has been located and we have scouted the defenses. The drone will stay here to provide support if necessary. Mission accomplished. Proceed to extract." "How? We are deep in the bowels of the beast. And what did you say about the other guy?" I ask. "Through the ceiling of course." The Voice explains, "Just climb one of the trees out of the guards'' sight and exit through the wooden slats like before. Then make your way towards the elevator shaft. You should have the direction to travel in down by now. We can talk about what I discovered back at the hideout." "No rest for the wicked huh?" I snark. "None at all." The Voice confirms, "Please also remember to retrieve the sex offender disguise. I put a lot of effort in it." An Unexpected Meeting After climbing back into the crawlspace at the arboretum, I had managed to squeeze and shuffle my way back to where I had placed the sex offender trench coat and accessories. Grabbing the unsightly outfit, I then continued shuffling my way back in the direction of the elevator shaft. Unfortunately, the path to the shaft was separated from the crawlspace by a solid concrete wall, turning the whole struggle into a gigantic waste of time. I was forced under The Voice''s direction to divert towards the lavatory in the outer defensive layer where I finally dropped down from the ceiling. Once on my two feet again, I changed back into my original disguise and dumped the SOPO uniform back into the crawlspace where it would likely never be found. I then made a break for the elevator with the help of The Voice keeping track of the various patrols and to my relief, found that my mental command on the two guards at the elevator was still in effect. From there, it was just a simple elevator ride back to the tower''s lobby. With everyone at the lobby avoiding me like the plague, or more accurately, like a sleazy sex offender, a short walk out of the tower''s main entrance was all it took to return me to relative safety. Which makes the person waiting for me just outside the tower''s entrance all the more a surprise. As the crowd parts before me once again, a single person stands resolutely in my path, refusing to give way. A pudgy middle aged woman with graying hair and sagging tits, she looks at me with an expression which is a combination of resignation and surprise. It takes me a moment to recognize who she is, but when a familiar annoyed expression makes its way to her wrinkled face, a light bulb goes off in my head. Its Alley, presenting in her real appearance. My guard immediately goes up. Wasn''t she arrested? What in the world is she doing here? Alley makes her way towards me, fatigue and stress oozing from her gait. She does not look like she had been ill treated in detention, but the experience was probably still no picnic for her. By the time she reaches me, the look of annoyance on her face has passed and all that''s left is weary resignation. I look into her eyes and the only thing I see there is defeat. "Call for you." Alley tells me and hands me a mobile phone together with a large sealed envelope. Cautiously accepting both items, I put the phone to my ear. "Disappointing. Really disappointing." The harsh bite of someone who smokes too much comes from the speaker, "I was expecting explosions, but all I got was a trench coat wearing weirdo walking in and out of Ascension Tower." "Who are you?" I ask the mystery caller. The habitual smoker replies, "Commander Hernandez. Don''t tell me you can''t recognize the voice of your own Commander, Officer Doe. Or is it Greer? Or maybe Gallant? You have a lot of balls to go around wearing a uniform that isn''t yours my friend." "He is calling from the black van parked by the side of the road some distance to your left." The Voice helpfully informs me, "There is also a a plainclothes ORPO officer getting into position behind you carrying an automatic pistol." I give the van in the distance a sloppy salute and reply, "Commander, sir! Officer John Doe reporting for duty. Is the man behind me my new partner?" "Smart ass." Hernandez answers, "Tell me why I shouldn''t have you taken in right now for impersonating an officer." That''s an easy one. I reply with a smile on my face, "Because I am an ORPO officer. Check your records Commander. My membership in ORPO is completely legitimate." Hernandez snorts, "Bull. The paper trail is legit, but you never were a part of ORPO. No officers have seen you coming in for work. I have never met you before today even. Now stop playing games and answer my question." The grin grows on my face as I quip, "What games? I am shocked that my Commander does not recognize me after all the work I have put in." Hernandez then puts on a theatrical sigh and says in faux distress, "Oh dear. What a tragedy indeed. Especially if that officer was mistaken as someone else and caused a disturbance while resisting arrest. ORPO is made out of mundane humans as I''m sure you know. Cases involving mages have to be forwarded to SOPO for their action. I wonder what would happen if SOPO picked up our poor officer?" I furrow my brows and curse inwardly. I should have known Hernandez would be prepared if he was willing to openly confront me like this. "What do you want?" I ask. Hernandez replies cheerfully, "You still haven''t answered your Commander''s question ''officer''." So that''s how you want to play it? Fine. "You won''t arrest me Commander," I say in as flat a tone as I can manage, "because I know where you are hiding and will break your face before SOPO gets here." Alley blanches visibly at what I am saying. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Instead of getting angry, Hernandez laughs at what I have said, "Good. The mask is finally off. You''re taking your situation seriously. As for what I want, I want you to help me. And I want to help you in return." "Oh? How are you going to help me?" I challenge. "Now''s not the time to talk about these things." Hernandez says, "This meeting is just to touch base between us. Get to know who I''m going to be working with. I hear you''ve made yourself comfortable in Six Trees? Get yourself home first, take a load off. There are friends of mine in Six Trees I would like you to meet. I''ll set a meeting up at a nice restaurant there. Consider yourself invited." "I''m honored." I say in the dourest fashion I can manage. Hernandez laughs again, "Oh, I''m the kind of Commander who takes care of his men. So no need to stand on ceremony. With your Commander in charge of the police at Six Trees, criminals have nowhere to hide." I just give an unintelligible grunt in response. Hernandez takes it as agreement and says, "Well, I have places to be. Take a look at the documents I handed over to you. Its just a gander of the help that I can give. Keep the phone as well Officer Doe. I''ll be in touch." The line goes dead and the van drives off into the distance. The ORPO officer behind me walks towards Alley and gives her a nod. Alley looks like she wants to say something to me but thinks better of it and soon the both of them disappear into the crowd. How am I going to deal with this? .... "The Council is honored by the presence of the Ambassadors from the P5, Host and Legion." The Speaker of the assembly pronounces as a trio of old men make their way to the seats specially prepared for them. Once the trio finish taking their seats, the Speaker once again announces, "The Council calls Gustav von Amsterg, Prince of Europe, to make his address to the Representatives." "Well this is it." I say to Rose who stands beside me in the alcove set aside for us. Uncle had decided that the succession would be decided through a trial by combat held in The City, and today was the day it was going to be legitimized by The City''s representatives and the great powers. I was told by Irene that everyone had already agreed in principle to the idea. What was happening now was merely a formality. Knowing that, I tuned out Uncle''s speech to the Assembly and continued my hushed conversation with Rose. Rose smiles happily at me, "Its like a dream isn''t it? Soon I will be free of Nicholas. And its all thanks to you." I scratch the back of my head and say, "Well, we have not won yet, so its not really the time to celebrate. We should concentrate on what is before us." Rose pouts, "Nicholas is no match for the both of us together right?" "Well yes." I concede. "Then there really is nothing to worry about." Rose says with finality. Rose is right. Uncle had set this whole thing up to put Nicholas in his place after all. Once Rose has her freedom, then I too will be free as well to live my life as I see fit. My face breaks into a grin, "When its all over, if I win, I will transfer everything over to you Rose. Its all yours anyway and I don''t deser-" Rose suddenly clamps her hand around my mouth and looks at me sternly. "No." a single word command from her. "Even if you gave me everything," she continues, "It wouldn''t change a thing. Its all yours Tensei. I am yours. That will never change." "... and I am pleased to state that a solution to this issue has been found ..." Uncle''s voice continues to drone in the background. Rose smiles shyly at me while blushing furiously and plants a hard kiss on my cheek. She then withdraws to herself and folds her palms together demurely. "Rose, I.." I begin to stutter incoherently. Rose blushes again and turns away from me. "... and so all claimants will agree to be bound by these conditions or forfeit their rights in perpetuity." Uncle concludes. I hear the Speaker announce, "Calling Nicholas von Amsterg to address the Representatives." Rose says softly, "Later. We can talk about this later. Its almost time." I nod. We will have to tell the Council that we agree to be bound by Uncle''s terms. Focus on the present. As for the future, well, it can wait. Nicholas''s voice rings out defiantly across the assembly, "I agree to be bound by these conditions!" The Speaker continues the ritual, "Calling Rose von Amsterg to address the Representatives." Rose leaves the alcove and my eyes follow her to the floor of the assembly. She stands without hesitation in opposition to Nicholas and with a proud and strong voice says, "I, Rose of the House of von Amsterg, accept these conditions." And finally, the Speaker summons me. I make my way to the floor and with as clear a voice as I can manage declare, "I accept." Uncle for the first time in who knows how long, looks at both Rose and myself, and a hint of warmth escapes from his eyes. He then begins to conclude the proceedings, "I, Gustav von Amsterg, Prince of Europe, hereby declare that-" "Wait!" a high pitched, childlike voice interrupts Uncle. A murmur of surprise makes it way from the dignitaries and I turn back to see who had caused this commotion. Behind us is the vampire girl that had been helping Nicholas. Despite her small size, her presence dominates the floor and she gives Uncle a challenging look. Uncle narrows his eyes and speaks icily, "If Marshal St Clair has business here, it can wait until the current proceedings are complete. Educate yourself on decorum in the meantime Marshal." St Clair sneers at Uncle replying, "My business is with you prince. Are you going to shut out a rightful claimant from her inheritance?" Confusion spreads across the gallery and Uncle''s face at the same time. He roars angrily, "Preposterous! You overstep!" St Clair answers arrogantly, pushing at Uncle''s buttons, "Prince, tell me, do you accept the legitimacy of the Legion''s historical claims over your realm? I am here not as Marshal of the Legion, but as the successor designated by the Legion for those claims." Uncle turns towards the dignitaries and all he sees is bedlam in their ranks. However, the Legion ambassador stands and addresses the assembly, "I can confirm what Marshal St Clair is saying. She is our designated successor." St Clair crows at Uncle, "Do you accept my candidacy, Prince?" Uncle begins sweating and looks at Nicholas, who graces him with a vicious smile. No help comes to Uncle from either the P5 or Host ambassadors. He regards Rose and myself with a look of genuine sorrow before turning back to St Clair and answering, "I accept the Legion''s historical claim and rule as their devoted servant." St Clair marches up and stands beside Nicholas declaring, "Then I, Yvonne St Clair, agree to the conditions of your contest, Prince." Strangers In The Monlight "I''m surprised you asked me to hold on to the phone Alley gave us." I comment while idly playing with the device. I had returned to Six Trees using The Voice''s cab and passed through border control without incident. Now I was just chilling in the hideout while The Voice compiles the information we had retrieved from our excursion to Ascension Tower. "It is to send the good Commander a message." The Voice rasps, "Commander Hernandez believes that since ORPO polices Six Trees, he holds all the cards in respect of any future negotiations with us. I merely wish to remind him that we possess resources that he does not." "And keeping the mobile with me achieves that how?" I ask, twirling the item in question about in my hand while leaning back more comfortably in the office chair that originally came free with the pit. The Voice rumbles, "A tracker has been installed on the mobile that was given to you. Hernandez no doubt thinks he can track your location and keep you on a leash. The Commander has been very unpleasantly surprised by the discovery that you are currently camping out at his private residence." I begin to snigger, "Serves him right." "Commander Hernandez immediately rushed home the moment his technicians told him that you had invaded his residence." The Voice continues, "After fruitlessly searching the grounds for your presence, he has detailed a squad of his men to guard his home day and night." I clap my hands delightedly. That guy was a complete asshole. Sending him running home in a panic would serve as a good lesson for him. "I am not done with the demonstration yet." The Voice continues, "Tomorrow, Commander Hernandez will learn from the tracker that you have followed his daughter to her school. Who knows what might happen if he does not change his attitude towards us?" Oh. That''s a pretty serious escalation. I am fine with teaching an asshole a lesson, but threatening an innocent girl seems to be taking things a step too far, isn''t it? I know that The Voice had threatened Alley''s husband, but that was for a debt that she owed. And well, he was a grown man getting the benefit of the money Alley stole. The principle between the two things may be the same, but it felt less, well, morally wrong I suppose? "You''re not actually going to hurt Hernandez''s daughter aren''t you?" I ask. "That is completely up to him." The Voice answers indifferently, "I am a god that fully respects the free will of mortals. They just need to be willing to bear the consequences of their actions." "Look, there is something I need to ask you." I say slowly, "And I need you to level with me, with one hundred percent honesty." The Voice grumbles, "Just ask your question." I nod and take a moment compose my thoughts. "That anime you screened. The one advertising the visual novel." I say, "There was a scene where you were going to kill a whole bunch of people that the monsters had captured." I leave the actual question unspoken, waiting for The Voice''s response. But The Voice does not bother to humor me and silence is all I get. "Well?" I finally ask, at my wits end. "Well what?" The Voice asks, and I can picture it rolling its eyes from the tone of its reply, "That was a statement of fact, not a question. How did you expect me to provide an answer to that?" I exasperatedly snap, "Did that bad shit really go down or not?" The Voice answers condescendingly, "Transmigrator, if your question is whether or not I have killed, then yes, I have killed. Like you, I will not brook any threat to my survival. If killing is the easiest way to resolve such a threat, then killing is what I will do. However, I suspect that your question is referring to something else entirely." Yeah. I know you don''t mind killing, Voice. You have already shown yourself capable of it in our time together. But there is a difference between killing to live and outright crazy blood sacrifice. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The Voice fires back with a question of its own, "I am a god of matter. The natives cannot hear me, at all. Do you think I could have persuaded them to genocide each other for my sake? If I had an army of monsters at my beck and call, would you need to hide out in a glorified lavatory?" "Yeah, no. It was a stupid question. Sorry." I apologize. Thinking things through, its really an outlandish accusation. No wonder The Voice was insulted. An awkward silence settles between the two of us, with only the crackling noise from the laptop''s hard disk being heard in the hideout. The silence becomes too much for me and I get up from my seat announcing, "I''m going out for a bit." The Voice grunts its acknowledgement. .... When I had guessed that the pit was located beneath an office complex or office mall, my guess was correct, though slightly off. The building I was based in, Six Trees Hills was a massive construction housing both office and retail space located on the "skeleton", the network of infrastructure that binds the various districts into the singular whole known as The City. A separate block of the development with its own parking provided residential units as well. Six Trees Hills could be described as a self-contained town that stood by itself. A self-contained town for the wealthy. I had originally intended to hit one of the pubs within Six Trees Hills before I realized that all the money I had was left behind in the apartment at the Dreaming Spires District. With that avenue unavailable, I began to wander about the commercial area of the building to window shop, but the late hour of the day meant that most of the stores were closing anyway. With boredom dangerously closing in and not wanting to go back to the pit just yet, I pull the trench coat tightly against myself and head outside into the snow. The cold air brushes against my bare face and for once I regret not putting on that stupid looking fake beard. It might be uncomfortable, but at least it would have helped in keeping me warm. The snow falls relentlessly from the dark sky. Night really does come quickly in The City during the winter months. I drift aimlessly towards a deserted park, watching the traffic pass by along the road. The Voice has not spoken a word to me yet. Who knew it could be so sensitive about things? As I walk deeper into the park, I find a discarded copy of the evening paper lying on a bench. Picking it up, I am greeted by a picture of Loli vampire grinning smugly while standing beside Nicky, the Hero and Brocon. "Surprise Challenger To The Throne!" the newspaper''s headline screams. Scanning through the article, it looks like Loli managed to turn the tables on Gustav. The Hero''s victory is looking not quite so secure after all. He better start leveling up, and fast. "Something is wrong." The Voice suddenly says. Hey, you''re talking again. No hard feelings right? "No shit." I reply, "Loli is probably too much for the Hero and Brocon to handle at the moment." The Voice rasps urgently, "Not that. I mean that something is wrong, right now. Fate''s hand is at work at the Crossroads. I sense that you are in grave danger." I quickly drop the newspaper and retrace my path back out of the park. I needed to get back to the hideout as quick as possible. Its the only place where my safety is guaranteed. Was Hernandez going for a reprisal against me already? But The Voice made no mention of him in its warning. My heart sinks at the next update from The Voice, "The park has been surrounded. You must prepare to fight." As I make my way back to the park''s entrance, I see that it has been completely blocked off by muscle. Magic wielding muscle. That automatically removed ORPO from the list. These guys are mostly human with some angels added in. Meaning SOPO and the Judecca Militia are out as well. I settle in a fighting stance and activate the core. The buzz in my head erupts almost immediately. Not good. Something about this confrontation is seriously agitating Gallant. I won''t be able to fight well if I have to keep reasserting my control over the body. A sudden weight presses against my shoulders and cracks begin to appear on the ground where I am standing. I signal the core to increase power to shake off the effects of the magical attack, but the buzz in my head erupts in volume. I quickly cut back on the core''s output and the invisible weight slams hard into me, forcing me to my knees. "What in the world?" I gasp. A single figure steps forward from the pack of muscle and strides confidently towards me. A woman, with her hair tied into a severe ponytail and a sharp, but plain face. Her spirit core blazes as her power assaults me. Its that stalker I originally met at the squat. Don''t tell me she has been stalking me all this time? "Damavand. The power to hold even a dragon fast." Stalker says. "Focus Transmigrator." The Voice urges, "Focus or all will be lost." Taking The Voice''s advise, I make a conscious effort to ignore the buzz coming from Gallant. Surging the core once again, I struggle back to my feet as my head feels like its going to explode from the strain. I nevertheless retain control over the body. As long as my senses are not overwhelmed, I should be able to keep Gallant in check. Stalker looks positively delighted to see me standing despite receiving her magical attack. Her core flares again and the pressure increases, but I keep pace with the attack and manage to straighten my gait despite the invisible weight thrown at me. Stalker smiles and says, "Its been a long time, Daffyd." War of Words As Gallant''s sister advances towards me, I shake of the initial shock and marshal my strength, preparing to mind blast her into letting me slip away. I quick scan of her body tells me that while she is spiritually strong, she has no connection with Fate. I grasp the thread of The Voice''s transmission within her and broadcast my signal. Ignore Gallant''s sister stumbles slightly as she digests my message and a confused look forms over her face for a second. But she quickly recovers and continues walking towards me. Its as if she never received my mental command at all. Grimacing, I crank up the power of my transmission and mind blast her again. IGNORE Absolutely no effect this time. Its as if Stalker never received my transmission. Damn. She must be really keen on meeting her brother to the point where she is outright ignoring my commands. Fine. Its not as if I don''t have any other means of resolving this problem. "Transmigrator," The Voice chimes in, worry evident in its tone, "Mr Gallant''s sister, Siobahn Gallant, intends to take you back to Neo-Cardiff with her. You must not allow that to happen. Once there, you will be quickly determined to be insane and detained at a mental institution for the rest of your days. Do everything you can to escape this encounter." Already working on it boss. No way this bullshit bad end is going to get the better of me. As Siobahn gets closer and closer towards me, I draw a bead on her neck and send power into my working left arm. A full powered blow to Siobahn''s neck will end her, and this encounter pretty quickly. Closer, closer. As I begin to ramp up power output from the core, a sudden blinding pain strikes me in my head and the buzzing noise rises to a crescendo. In panic I cut power from the core immediately and the pain fades away almost instantaneously. The buzzing also fades into the background. This is bad, Gallant does not want me to hurt his sister. That closes off plenty of options that I thought I had. Cold sweat begins to flow freely down my back. Siobahn grabs me in a full embrace and follows up with a fond pat on the shoulder. Feeling the wetness on my clothes, she frowns and asks, "Daffyd, is something wrong?" Crap. She senses something is wrong. "Uh, you''re still crushing me with your magic." I protest. Siobahn frowns, "And you''re still a faggot if this level of force is causing you to complain." She nevertheless eases up and the invisible pressure on me disappears. "Asshole." I mutter underneath my breath. "What was that you said?" Siobahn shoots back and I quickly shake my head in a quick denial. "I heard it, Daffyd." Siobahn continues and gives me a friendly cuff to the head, "You''ve really grown up during the past few months away from home. I always knew you had it in you." Uh, thanks? But why are you grabbing my shoulder and steering me deeper into the park? Why isn''t your muscle following you? Once Siobahn drags me back to where the benches are, she stops and stares silently at me. "Alright." She says, "Talk. What kind of foolishness have you been roped into?" "I don''t know what you''re talking about." I reply. Siobahn folds her arms glares at me critically, "Let me rephrase then. Why is my brother hiding out in Six Trees? Why is he a wanted criminal? All you had to do was stay at the bar until the time came for you to meet with the Archmage. What did you do to suddenly awaken your magic?" I cannot fight Gallant''s sister. That means I need to persuade Siobahn into letting me go. Fleeing from her is also unlikely to succeed. Her demonstration just now was probably meant to drive home the point that she could ground me the moment I decided to leg it. The Voice is completely silent, offering no advise. The buzzing in my head has stopped as well, for some reason, Gallant is also eager to hear how I handle this situation. "I got a job." I answer Siobahn vaguely. "To commit murder and terrorism?" She asks bitingly. "Well, yeah." I respond with a weak gesture, "Its payment for the magic." Siobahn rolls her eyes and says, "Uh huh. And the scars all over your body?"If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Part of the training. It wasn''t easy you know." I say while licking my lips. She merely nods again, looking at me closely. "So yeah, I got to do this job for the boss." I continue, "Especially since he has already come through for me. And not after I have seen what I have seen. I can''t go back to Neo-Cardiff just like that." Siobahn narrows her eyes and glares at me again, "Daffyd are you alright? You''re talking strange." Shit. Gallant must have a different speech pattern compared to my natural style of speaking. And I have no way of mimicking Gallant, as I have never heard him speak before. I need to do something quickly, Siobahn is obviously getting suspicious. "I don''t know what''s going with you Daffyd." Siobahn says, "You avoid me. You attack the Archmage''s lab and my staff. And now you''re telling me some story about your ''boss''. I think you need to come home Daffyd. I can get you out of The City without the police noticing and we can have a nice sit down with da. Wouldn''t that be nice?" The buzzing in my head begins to build in protest. It looks like Gallant and myself share the same opinion on one thing at least. Neither of us wants to leave The City. "You know what I think Daffyd?" Siobahn continues, looking at me closely, "I think you''re a mite touched in the head. It happens sometimes you know, when the spirit core suddenly releases its power all at once. The mage becomes a little confused. Like Uncle Tomas. Remember him? He spent an entire evening running about the garden shouting about alien pig rozzers." "I''m not crazy!" I shout while backing away from Siobahn. Then immediately regret it since that sounds exactly like what a crazy person would say. "Alien pig rozzers Daffyd." Siobahn repeats as she closes in on me again, "Those don''t exist. You and I know that. But Uncle Tomas didn''t. Until he took his medicine." I jump behind the bench, keeping it between me and Siobahn. She waves her hands to calm me down and speaks, "You need to come home Daffyd. I heard stories from the police, speculating that you have secret connections with some big man or other, being part of some kind of conspiracy. But I know that''s all baloney Daffyd. We grew up together. Tell me, who is this boss you''re talking about? Describe him for me." "I -" I quickly stop myself before I blurt out that The Voice is literally a voice on an untraceable line. But the damage is done. Siobahn sees my stuttering as proof that I am completely deluded. "See, Daffyd? You need help, before you go into another fit and pull more people into whatever fantasy you want to live out." Siobahn pushes the bench aside while saying, "I can help you Daffyd. Just come home." I hear a ringing tone coming from Siobahn''s jacket, but she turns her phone off without bothering to look at it. The Voice rasps, "I tried distracting her, but Fate has fixated Siobahn Gallant''s attention wholly on you. Hurry, the bad end is closing in." But what can I do? I want to scream in frustration. I cannot fight. I cannot flee. I am literally being railroaded to my doom. There must be a way out of this though. If there wasn''t, The Voice would have just pronounced that I was screwed. I just need to find the escape path. But how? I rack my brain. During my time hiding in Gallant''s soul at the crossroads, I was privy to some of his thoughts and history. Gallant was regarded as a failure by his family and sent to The City in disgrace. A disgrace, his father wanted to disown him unless he proved himself right? I need to make a gamble here. I don''t have all the facts, but I need to make my move now before Siobahn seizes me. "I cannot go back. You also can''t make me go back." I declare. "And why is that Daffyd?" Siobahn pauses, surprised at my sudden coherence. "Because da disowned me. I cannot go back until I master Finger of the Mountain right?" I follow up. Siobahn laughs, "Don''t be silly. You wrecked my bodyguard with Finger of the Mountain. You passed with full marks. Its time to go home." Now, to throw the dice. "But I didn''t learn it from da." I rebut, "I accepted another master while I was in The City. He taught me how to use Finger of the Mountain." "Nonsense." Siobahn snorts. "I can prove it. The boss taught me what da could not." I press on, "That''s why I cannot leave with you. My place is with the boss." Siobahn folds her arms and looks at me critically, "You do know the actual meaning of what you''re saying right? If you accepted another master without da''s permission..." She trails off dangerously. Jackpot. This is my means of escaping Fate''s trap. Gallant''s family can''t just accept him back if he has already apprenticed under a different mage without their permission. Its like a sect member suddenly upping and joining a rival organization. "Cast Finger of the Mountain on me." I tell Siobahn and raise the core''s output in readiness. "Daffyd, this is stupid. Stop being stupid." Siobahn snaps, but I impatiently gesture at her to get on with it. No objections from Gallant himself either. He must really not want to go home. Siobahn sighs in resignation and flicks her index finger at me. I feel a sudden rush of force slam against me but the core easily repulses the attack and Siobahn is sent staggering backwards from the backlash. "So its true." Siobahn murmurs, while rubbing her sore arm, "Didn''t sense any of our family magic in you during that exchange. You really did train under someone else." "So that''s that." I quip, "I cannot go back with you. Until I settle my debt with the boss. Da did not raise an ingrate, right?" "Aye." Siobahn concedes and I begin walking away from her with a sigh of relief. "But." Siobahn suddenly raises her voice and her core begins to surge menacingly, "Da would also not let his son continue disgracing himself and the family name as a common criminal." I turn back and see Siobahn settle into a fighting stance, her core output rising to combat levels. Oh come on! Didn''t I just talk my way out of being abducted? "I am your sister Daffyd." Siobahn announces, "And as the elder sibling, I am going to teach you the error of your ways. After that, you can come home with me to beg for da''s forgiveness." Way of Life Siobahn''s spirit core continues to surge as she prepares to attack. I enter into a fighting stance of my own and signal the artificial core to increase its output, but my head explodes with blinding pain once more. Your sister is out to brutalize you and you''re still not willing to fight? Come on Gallant, are you for real here? Try as I might, I attempt to power up the core so that I can at least put up some resistance, but Gallant''s opposition to me is overwhelming. Just the mere thought of fighting his sister sends yet another splitting migraine ripping through my skull. The time I spend figuratively wrestling with Gallant is all Siobahn needs to complete her own preparations and launch an attack. Her feet fly off the ground as she blazes towards me, her index finger extended towards my forehead. Its over. Without the core''s protection, Finger of the Mountain will split Gallant''s head open like a bloody melon. I try to duck aside but Siobahn is moving too quick. Before I realize it, the extended index finger is right between my eyes. Where it stops just short of striking. My heart is in my throat and I don''t trust myself so say a word. Even if Siobahn is just trolling me, it doesn''t change the fact that I am completely helpless thanks to Gallant. Siobahn clucks her tongue with disappointment as she withdraws her hand and her spirit core returns to normal, "Should have known that you would see through me." "Trying to find an excuse to fight and get your muscle involved?" I ask. Did Gallant know that Siobahn was just faking an attack? Considering Gallant''s reluctance to actually fight his sister, he must have guessed from the start that there was no real physical danger involved in this encounter. Though that did not mean I was in the clear. One wrong move and Siobahn could have me dog piled and taken back to Neo-Cardiff. Siobahn shrugs and regards me evenly, "Stop being difficult Daffyd and come home. If you explain everything to da I''m sure that he would forgive you for accepting another master. I also doubt that your boss can match our influence in Neo-Cardiff. You''ll be free of him there and all this terrorism business. Wouldn''t that be better?" I raise a disbelieving eyebrow and reply, "I doubt that. Da never treated me fairly." Based on Gallant''s own emotional baggage on this matter, I am confident that this guess of mine is right. Siobahn nods knowingly but does not relent, "I''m not saying that things were easy for you Daffyd, but da just wants what is best for us. Things were not exactly peaches and cream for me too you know? Da''s training was hard, but I sucked it up, and became better for it. Now start being a man and face your responsibilities to the family." The buzz in my minds builds again, Gallant no doubt disputing his sister''s version of events. Even I can tell the problem with what Siobahn is saying. Gallant can''t cast magic, so how can what his family be subjecting him to be in his best interest? "That''s wrong." I say, "Da was just wasting my time with his nonsense about learning magic. None of it was going to work out." Siobahn looks hurt at my response and shoots back, "You''re not being fair Daffyd. Da got the best teachers for you at Neo-Cardiff. When that didn''t work out, he got you a job and money to live on. We spent a fortune on the Archmage for him to research a cure for you. When we heard that you might have died, I dropped everything and came here. I know you are angry, but try to see things in perspective." "I was disowned." I reply flatly. "Only because you could not fulfill your role as da''s son." Siobahn replies, "But da and I still didn''t give up on you. If we did, we would not have bothered with spending all that money on the Archmage''s research. If da really didn''t care, he would not have bothered with finding you an easy job at one of his businesses. Show some gratitude." The noise in my head reaches a fever pitch and I feel Gallant''s anger begin to affect me as well. Not that its a surprise. I have said it before and I will say it again. His sister is a bona fide asshole. "My. Role." I repeat slowly, "I''m a grown man Siobahn, I make my own decisions! Not you nor da!" Siobahn scowls slightly, "Don''t shout Daffyd. Its unsightly. Do you want the men to hear us having an argument?" I snort, but quieten down. Siobahn is right on this count, there was no need for me to make a fool of myself in front of strangers. "But yes Daffyd," Siobahn takes up the thread once more, "your role as a member of our family. Something that you had failed to perform and still refuse to perform. I can''t see why you sound so upset about this when the failing is all yours in the first place." "Explain." I grind out, "The last I checked, adults are free to live their lives as they pleased. Are you telling me that I don''t have that freedom?" You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. "No. Daffyd. You don''t have that freedom." Siobahn answers patronizingly. Before I can cut in, she raises her hand to forestall any objections and continues, "You don''t have that freedom in the way that no one truly has the freedom you''re talking about. Consider this Daffyd, a son of a poor family and a son of a well-off family. The son of paupers will get a job as quickly as possible to pay back into his family and help support his siblings. The son born into wealth will leave the nest and get a job as soon as possible to stop feeding off his parents. Both have their respective obligations to fulfill. Both have to ultimately stop being a burden on their families." "Now consider yourself." Siobahn then points her finger at me, "You keep complaining that da demands the impossible from you regarding magic. Fine. Then let''s consider how well you have discharged your other responsibilities to us. You eat da''s food. You spend da''s money. Until recently, you stayed at da''s house. You have not paid back to the family in any way. You do not have an independent career of your own. You''re an adult, but don''t act like one. So don''t blame either da or myself for refusing to treat you like the adult you claim to be." The buzzing in my head subsides to a resentful slow burn. Gallant''s still mad, but I am guessing he has managed to rein in his temper. Wonderful. Flying off the handle would do neither of us any good here. I try to recall the snippets of Gallant''s past I absorbed while hiding withing his soul in order to find something useful to rebut Siobahn. "I was kept under watch at the bar. Everything I did was reported back to da." I reply, "How was I supposed to act like an adult as you put it under those circumstances?" Siobahn places her hands on her hips and looks at me squarely in the eye, "That''s because you were living like some useless young master back in Neo-Cardiff. Da needed a way to keep you working, or at least, pretend to be working." I shake my head in irritation. This discussion is going nowhere. I just don''t have enough information on Gallant to effectively debate Siobahn and she is just hammering me with talking points that she had already prepared. Its only a matter of time before she pushes the issue of leaving for Neo-Cardiff again and I would have no more ammunition to fight off her request with. Reviewing the conversation so far, I realize that after Siobahn faked that attack of hers on me, she had deliberately steered the conversation away from the issue of Gallant training under a new master. Instead she had offered a fig leaf in the form of Gallant''s dad forgiving him and began to relentlessly beat me down with talk about debts owed and gratitude. I had been thoroughly distracted by the anger Siobahn had provoked in Gallant and been playing into her hands. I needed to get the discussion back on issues that supported my case. "All that is irrelevant." I grunt, "Da disowned me. That''s a fact. I used the freedom to apprentice under a new master. That''s also a fact. No matter what you say, neither you nor da has the right to order me back. My obligations to my new master take priority." "You''re running away again." Siobahn spits out, "You never wanted to put in the work like I did." "I''m doing something that works for me." I reply, "Going back to Neo-Cardiff is not one of those things. Grinding away at useless exercises isn''t one of those things either." Siobahn now sounds genuinely angry at me, "Are you saying it was wrong of me to spend my life training under da? You saying you have a better path forward?" "Yes, Siobahn. A better path for myself." I say as I begin walking away, "Feel free to keep doing whatever you are doing though." Siobahn starts walking forward as well, keeping pace with me while demanding, "What kind of attitude do you think you are showing Daffyd? You think you can dismiss the struggle I went through just like that?" "Its the exact same attitude you have towards my struggle Siobahn." I reply, "So, yes. I can dismiss your struggle. Just like that." Siobahn grabs me by my limp right arm and quickly releases her grip with a shocked expression. "I didn''t know you were hurt. Sorry." she apologizes. I wave her apology off and continue walking towards the exit. I need to escape Siobahn as soon as possible. The longer I stay in her presence, the more likely I would be railroaded into oblivion. But Siobahn is not done with me. She grabs me by my left arm this time and holds me tight. Her eyes have a ferocious light in them, shining with determination. "You say that you have found a better path Daffyd. I want you to prove it to me." she says, "You''re injured, so I won''t seize an unfair advantage by fighting you. All you need to do tonight, is to walk out of this park under the burden of Damavand. Do that, and I''ll start taking what you say seriously." I nod. This is the best outcome that I could have hoped for. It plays to the strengths of the artificial core and does not require me to fight Siobahn. After I accept her challenge, Siobahn walks towards her gang of muscle and signals them to move aside. She then flares her core and begins to move her spirituality. The invisible weight of Damavand presses down on me once more. The ground begins to crack and I lumber resolutely towards the exit. As I begin to draw closer to Siobahn and the crowd of muscle, she moves her spirituality once more, and the weight on my shoulders increases. The ground this time begins to sag noticeably each time I take a step forward but the core counters Damavand''s effects handily. I don''t feel any buzzing in my head from drawing power from the core either. Gallant must be equally determined to pass his sister''s challenge. And so my relentless march presses forward, with the weight of Damavand growing without any noticeable effect on my progress. If anything, this has given me a good opportunity to take notes on how Siobahn moves her spirit while casting that spell of hers. With some practice, I''m confident I can shoot off a passable imitation of the spell. By the time I reach the park''s exit, the ground has been completely ruptured by Damavand''s weight and my body aches from the strain of drawing the core''s power. As promised, Siobahn lifts the spell the moment I step out of the park. I did it. I conquered the power that could hold a dragon. "I don''t agree with what you said Daffyd." Siobahn states, "I will never accept that devoting myself to da''s teachings was the wrong choice. Tonight as promised, I''ll let you go. But one day, we will have a real contest to determine which one of us is right." "Just make sure you come by yourself." I snark back before tiredly waving goodbye and disappearing between the curtain of snowfall. That''s more than enough excitement for one night. Dinner and Conversation "Thanks for inviting me over Representative!" Kira smiles happily and gives a deep bow to the man seated at the table before her. The blond, curly haired man modestly waves Kira''s greeting off before replying, "Please, its Michael. We have known each other all the way back from when you were still at the orphanage. All the way back then, I never thought that either of us would end up in The City. Don''t be shy, sit down." A waiter courteously pulls out the chair for Kira and she takes her seat at a small table meant for two. She adjusts her evening gown nervously and gives another smile at Representative Michael. "Would Sir like some wine?" The waiter asks. Michael thinks for a moment before replying, "A bottle of house wine. And two glasses." Just as the waiter gives Kira a pointed glance, Michael makes a dismissive motion with his hand, "Its fine. Two glasses." The waiter nods and leaves the private dining room. Michael makes an expansive gesture saying, "Have you eaten at a real trattoria before Kira? Not restaurants masquerading as one. You don''t order your food here. You eat whatever the chef has prepared for the day." Kira frowns, "But what if its not to my taste?" Michael flicks his eyes back to Kira and responds, "Well, the chef is that good. I''ve never had that problem before. By the way, that bodyguard of yours, Chance, was her name? You told me that she was not able to come?" "Oh!" Kira exclaims while fiddling with a napkin, "Violet''s injuries were acting up again and she has to rest at home." Her eyes narrow conspiratorially as she whispers, "Ever since you met Violet the last time you''ve been very interested in her, Mike. Did you invite me for dinner as a roundabout way to get a date with Violet?" "Already so familiar." Michael huffs, "Well, Violet reminds me, well ''remind'' is not really the right word I suppose. She gives me a sense of nostalgia, about someone I knew in the past." Kira makes a questioning noise as she sips a glass of water, "Doesn''t that just mean you are interested in her?" Michael shakes his head, "Not really. Seeing Violet gets me to reminisce about less complicated times and old companions. Its a bit selfish of me isn''t it? To see someone and not see them at the same time?" Kira looks at Michael oddly, "You knew someone like Violet when you were managing our orphanage? But I don''t seem to recall such a person." "Way before then Kira." Michael says while gulping down his own glass of water, "Before you were even born." The waiter enters the private room once again with the wine and a basket of bread. After pouring out the wine, he leaves the room once more like a ghost. Michael starts cutting a piece of bread and smearing butter on it, "Don''t look so down Kira. I invited you for dinner as an apology for what happened at Six Trees. If I had not roped you in as part of my plan to get rid of those squatters, you would never have been attacked. Thank goodness you''re alright."Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. "Yeah." Kira says somewhat despondently as her smile begins to waver. She begins sipping the wine listlessly. Michael picks up on the signal and presses, "Seriously Kira, what''s wrong? Your smile does not reach your eyes." "Its nothing." Kira mumbles. "Kira, We have known each other ever since your days at the orphanage when I was the manager." Michael sighs, "I can tell when something is wrong with you. So stop hiding whatever is bothering you and just let it out." "Its Tensei." Kira says softly. "The beau?" Michael responds with a surprised look on his face, "What''s going on with him?" Kira looks down into her lap as she speaks, "He''s training. For that big contest involving his inheritance." "And?" Michael says with a quizzical look on his face, "I was in the Council Hall that day when Gustav set his challenge. Tensei training for it is nothing unusual." Kira now looks close to tears and her voice cracks, "Tensei''s spending all his time at SOPO headquarters training with his pretend sister. Inspector Scott and Sera have been running both of them through drills and magic lessons. Sometimes Ken shows up to spar with Tensei." Michael swallows the slice of bread he had been cutting and wets his lips with a sip of wine. He silently gestures at Kira to continue. The words begin to come out in a rush from Kira''s mouth, "I don''t know anything about fighting, so I can''t help Tensei train. I thought I could ask the Host for help, but no one there takes an idol singer seriously. I had a thought, if I could persuade my employer to allow Violet to help with Tensei''s training, then I could at least not be so so useless." "But my employer is obsessed with her feud against her brother." Kira continues, "She just shot my idea down without thinking about it although Violet is fine with helping Tensei out. Tensei is getting further and further away from me, Mike. I''m losing him. He''s still nice and kind, but all his time is taken up by people who can actually help him. There''s no place for me." "If this continues, I will never get to be with Tensei. I will never experience his kindness again. And I will never be able to answer to my family when I leave this world to join them." Kira concludes with a sob. Michael silently offers a tissue to Kira for her to wipe her tears. After dabbing her tears away Kira apologizes, "I''m sorry. I didn''t intend to cause a scene. I''m a terrible person aren''t I? I can only hurt or let down the people that I love." Michael takes a moment to consider what Kira has said before answering, "I don''t think so. I''m sure your parents would be very proud of you if they were still here. And Tensei is blessed to have someone like you love him." "But, my secret vow -" Kira protests. Michael smiles gently, "When you confided in me all those years ago, I realized that love can take many forms. Not just passion, but also loyalty. And I think that your loyalty to Tensei is no less than your loyalty to your parents. You would not betray Tensei''s memory after fulfilling your vow, would you?" "Never!" Kira protests, "I would never love another. My life would be dedicated to our child. There would be no one else in my heart." "But I''m disappointed Kira." Michael admonishes, "When you went to the Host for support, you never approached me. I might not be much, but I would like to think that a Representative''s word still means something in The City. Anyway, me helping would be better than Tensei associating with that Matsui boy. His family have been attacking Host territory and clashing with SOPO for the past few days. Its causing a lot of headache." Kira''s eyes immediately light up, "You''ll help Tensei? Seriously?" "Seriously." Michael smiles indulgently, "In fact, I''ll do more than that. Not only will I help with Tensei''s training, I will ensure that your vow will not interfere with your love for him. You will not need to hurt anyone to reach your golden ending." Kira grips the tablecloth tightly, her breath short, "How? How can you do that?" "I may be based behind a desk most of the time," Michael explains, "but in my younger days, I was quite the mage. I know techniques that can solve your conundrum rather easily." "Tell me!" Kira reaches forward and grabs Michael''s hands desperately. Michael gently shakes Kira off with laugh, "Let''s eat first yes? Then I''ll go into the details. But trust me when I say this, when I''m done with Tensei, he will be yours and yours alone." "Forever." The Way Forward Ugly. That''s the only way I can describe what the drone''s surveillance footage is showing on the laptop. An angel, at least I think its an angel from the feeble halo, lies on a bed. The angel''s body is emaciated and wrinkled to the extreme, resembling a giant raisin wrapped up in a cheerless hospital gown. Tubing is stuck into the angel''s parchment like skin, providing it with a steady flow of blood and other substances that I cannot identify. The angel''s hands are curled inwards impotently and its eyes are covered with a thick opaque film. A thin line of drool escapes from the angel''s toothless mouth, which is quickly wiped away by a SOPO officer using a paper napkin. The officer then gently pries the angel''s mouth open and brings out a bowl filled to the brim with a thick slurry. The slurry is slowly poured down the hatch and the officer occasionally lifts the angel''s back to help it swallow. Once the bowl has been emptied, the officer cleans the angel''s mouth again with the napkin. The SOPO officer then frowns and begins to roll up the angel''s hospital gown, revealing a pair of soiled adult diapers. "Yeah, I don''t need to see that. Thanks." I quickly tell The Voice. The Voice obligingly freezes the video and skips forward to the point where the camera is focusing on a shelf somewhere in the room. On the shelf, is a small box completely wrapped in a piece canvas bearing a blazing scarlet rune. "Just like in the sarcophagus." I muse, "So the codex has been stored with whatever that is, at the 50th floor black site." "Correct." The Voice confirms, "I have had the drone scout further and a number of complications have emerged." Oh? The Voice rasps without hesitation, "Based on the intelligence that we have gathered, I have concluded that you are not capable of retrieving or destroying the codex. Any attempt on our part to proceed with this mission will have only one outcome. Failure." "Hey." I grumble, "Show a little faith here. I sneaked in with none of the guards the wiser right? So what''s the big deal?" The Voice rumbles, "Fate''s seal on the container holding the codex is the first complication. You can only physically access the codex in one of my places of power. It is impossible to destroy the codex in the black site itself." "So I''ll snatch the codex and bring it to a suitable spot where we can smash it." I point out, "Or are you saying that fossil in adult diapers is capable of wiping the floor with me?" "No." The Voice explains, "From my observations, that ''fossil'' as you put it, shows all the symptoms of being brain dead. He is only being kept alive by the ministrations of the SOPO officers. The other complication I am referring to are the officers stationed in the arboretum." The Voice dismisses the window playing the surveillance footage and brings up a series of photographs showing the SOPO officers guarding the micro room in the arboretum. The Voice continues, "In the best case scenario, where you manage to infiltrate the black site and access the arboretum without opposition, you will still need to subdue the SOPO officers guarding the room inside it as they simply do not move from their posts. Based on your estimation of their individual strength being a match for Inspector Scott, defeating them quickly or quietly is not possible." "The moment you engage the SOPO officers, an alarm will be inevitably triggered." The Voice concludes, "Guards throughout the Tower will be dispatched to your location while you are tied down fighting the officers. If you succeed in seizing the codex, you will then be forced to fight off multiple waves of enemies during your escape attempt. Coupled with Fate loading the dice against you in any way that it can, failure is simply a natural consequence." "No way." I reply, "But from the evidence we gathered, the black site was originally meant to protect that old fossil in the room. Just who, or what, is it?" "I have no idea." The Voice concedes, "That issue is also something that does not concern us at the present. Everything points to the fossil and the codex being unrelated to each other. They were just conveniently stowed together." I idly rub my chin while considering the matter, "Is that so? There may be a connection between the two we are not seeing. Anyway, let''s say your assessment is correct. How do we move forward from here?"If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "By introducing more instability into the Crossroads of course." The Voice replies, "We actually do not need to secure or destroy the codex to prevent our doom from catching up to us. Damaging the flags set up by Fate is an equally legitimate strategy. However, I suspect that once a critical amount of instability has been injected into the route, the codex will become vulnerable as a matter of course." "Yeah. I remember you talking about that way back at the Sarcophagus." I say, "So you''ve identified other ways to hit back at Fate?" The photos are now cleared from the laptop''s screen and a map of The City replaces it. The image is zoomed out, allowing The City as a whole to be displayed. "I have in fact identified several means of hurting Fate." The Voice answers as the Hero''s picture appears on the map over the area representing the Academy, "The first is to prevent Fate from diverting the Hero from his proper destiny. As Fate has to expend a fair amount of its power to create divergence points, destroying these divergence points will harm Fate''s ability to maintain the death route we have been forced on." "But I am guessing that just making sure the Hero gets the throne and the girls is not enough to save us?" I ask. The Voice replies, "Correct. A passive defense will not avail us here. We have to take the fight to Fate in order to prevail." The map now highlights a large building painted entirely in white with its back facing the sea in a district marked as Marine Beach. The photo of a brown skinned, mustachioed man with a lean face is placed just above the highlighted building. "Commander Hernandez asserts that we can help each other." The Voice says, "I agree. The Commander''s plans were never part of Fate''s grand design and have only come this far thanks to your interference in Heroine Majima''s concert at the Squat. By helping to bring his schemes to fruition, a large amount of instability can be generated." "What are those schemes exactly?" I query. The Voice responds, "Commander Hernandez has been working with the Matsui family to attack sites under the control of the Host''s Urban Redevelopment Initiative. I suspect that he originally wanted you to join the Matsui enforcers in tackling the better protected compounds. Unfortunately for the good Commander, SOPO has begun assisting the Host in protecting the URI, and it will not be long until the Matsuis simply run out of enforcers to send into the fray." "Hernandez? The guy you''re threatening?" I raise an eyebrow, "Is it wise to cooperate with him after the posturing we have been doing?" The Voice laughs, "Most certainly. The Commander has actually tried to contact you on the mobile several times during the last few days you were lying low in the hideout, but I blocked the calls. His plans are not going too well you see. The Matsuis are in a panic and will break soon. I have opted to let the Commander stew a bit and let the situation deteriorate further so that we have a stronger negotiating position. That combined with the intimidation against his family, will ensure that we will obtain the best terms from him." "Cool. But why all this focus on Hernandez? Its like you have a grudge against him or something." I shoot back. "Did you read the documents Hernandez had passed to us?" The Voice rasps. I think back, "Sure. Didn''t understand anything though. It was a bunch of medical reports right?" The Voice says grimly, "Medical reports of the SOPO officers stationed at the arboretum. The Commander knew we would be there at the black site. He also knew about the abnormalities surrounding those officers." "Damn." I exclaim, "Hernandez must have spies of his own in SOPO. He probably figured out that we would be at the black site from tracking SOPO''s handling of the codex. So that''s what his offer of help was about. He guessed that I couldn''t crack the black site by myself." The map now highlights Unity College and the picture of Hobo Beard, the guy I saw at the lab, pops up on the screen. The Voice continues, "Thanks to the lead from the Commander, I have concluded that the SOPO officers in question had experienced core growth in a manner similar to Heroine Naiberg. Further investigation on my part revealed that the officers had also been receiving medical treatments at the university under a classified project headed by Archmage Naiberg. Given your suspicions about Heroine Naiberg and the coincidences we keep finding the Archmage involved in, it would be prudent to at least detain him for questioning. If Archmage Naiberg is an ally of Fate, dealing with him will damage all of Fate''s plans." That''s a good point. Hobo Beard is involved with the codex, the guards at the black site and possibly tampering with a Heroine. I don''t know how tight he is with Fate, but he is almost certainly involved somehow. The map now highlights a ritzy hotel located in Red Perch Cape District and a picture of Gallant''s sister pops up on the screen. "Finally," The Voice continues, "Siobahn Gallant has retreated to her hotel and has contacted her father with regards to the prodigal son. Her father was overjoyed upon hearing Mr Gallant is still alive, elated at news that his son''s magic had awakened and infuriated by the said son''s refusal to return home. He is currently arranging for more men to be flown to The City to assist Siobahn Gallant in bringing her brother home." "Shit." I mumble, "Its all hands on deck then?" The Voice says, "Most certainly. Your performance against Master Chance made quite an impression on Siobahn Gallant and she is not inclined to do things by half measures at any rate. As Siobahn Gallant is Fate''s chosen weapon against you, removing her from play, one way or the other, will both weaken Fate and introduce a great deal of instability into the death route." "That''s certainly a full plate we have before us." I remark. "Indeed." The Voice agrees, "There is much to do." An Unusual Assignment "Tell me more about Hobo Beard first." I say, "You told me that it was impossible for souls to grow further once someone reached maturity. And now there''s a medical report proving the opposite." The Voice responds, "Alleging, not proving. We have no way at present to ascertain whether or not what the medical report claims is true. Nevertheless, I repeat my earlier statement. To the best of my knowledge, it is impossible for a soul to grow once its bearer has reached maturity." I ponder for a moment before saying, "But what you are saying would not hold up if those SOPO officers got a sudden increase in spirit strength as shown by the inconsistency in their gold braid. All of them are adults so such a boost should not be possible." "Agreed." The Voice concedes, "That means one of two things has happened. First possibility, the SOPO officers you encountered at the arboretum were deliberately hiding their strength. They were an elite unit that had opted to masquerade as a group of regulars." "And the second possibility?" I ask. The Voice rasps, "Archmage Naiberg has managed to find a way to achieve what I had thought impossible. If this is indeed the case, regardless of whether or not he is working with Fate, we must get our hands on the research, or preferably, the man himself." I raise an eyebrow, "Why this interest? Sore at being proven wrong?" "Hardly." The Voice scoffs, "I am merely considering your interests, Transmigrator. I have examined your spirit core several times and have come no closer to reaching a solution as to how to separate Mr Gallant from you. If Archmage Naiberg can achieve what the medical report claims, he at the very least has a better understanding of souls than myself. His research could contain the data I need to crack the puzzle that you have posed to me." I see. Moving against Naiberg would be in my best interests. In fact, given the lack of progress on The Voice''s part on resolving the problem of Gallant''s soul shard within me, sooner or later I would be compelled to take action in that direction. I am sorely tempted to tell The Voice that we should work on the Naiberg mission first, but there is another mission that''s on a tighter time limit. "Hernandez''s job for us, that one has an expiry date, right?" I query. ''Yes." The Voice concurs, "The Matsui family are very close to total defeat at the hands of SOPO. The Commander does not have the political capital to survive such a debacle and he will be hung out to dry by his backers if matters degenerate to that level. I suggest aiding the Commander first so that he can provide us with support later." I tap the laptop with my fingers contemplatively, "Did Hernandez get the Matsui to attack the URI as part of a P5 plot? An attempt by them to expand the interim administration zone?" "Close." The Voice says, "Both the P5 and the Host were thrown off guard when Marshal St Clair successfully staked the Legion''s claim to the von Amsterg territory. With their investment in the Hero looking increasingly less secure, the P5 is hungry for any gains they can seize in order to keep their place at the table for the great powers." "So that means sending in the Matsui and ORPO as cat''s paws to soften the URI up." I conclude, "But is ORPO really that reliable? I remember hearing talk sometime back about them being less than professional."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The Voice explains, "ORPO is a piranha swimming in a sea filled with sharks. They have no mages in their ranks and little favor with the Council. ORPO is regarded as a second rate force that is assigned duties that are not worthy of the more capable and glamorous SOPO. That does not mean ORPO is not dangerous. Their pervasive presence and overwhelming numbers in The City makes them at the very least, a formidable nuisance and an ally worth cultivating." "So ORPO tags along with any shark that throws scraps their way then?" I remark. "Yes." The Voice confirms, "As SOPO''s prominence increased and ORPO was left in the cold, the Commander began to accept assistance from the Legion, and later the P5, to keep his force afloat. He had correctly suspected that the Council intended to disband ORPO in favor of the RAU, a force directly subordinated to SOPO." RAU. Those riot cops I saw busting heads at the Squat. No wonder Hernandez jumped at the chance to discredit the Council and SOPO when he received The Voice''s package of evidence regarding the money being siphoned out from the redevelopment project. Anything that puts SOPO and the Council in a spot is good news for ORPO. Given their circumstances, I doubt ORPO cares about the further ramifications of their antics. If Hernandez is willing to help with dealing with the black site though, it made it worthwhile to at least hear the man out, ORPO''s poor reputation not withstanding. If the price Hernandez demanded for his support was reasonable, there was no reason why we could not cooperate. There was also the added benefit of dumping a load of instability into the death route. Can''t overlook the intangibles here. "Alright. How do we go about contacting Hernandez then?" I ask. "By calling his private residence of course." The Voice says smugly, "I believe the Commander is home right now. Please hold." .... "Goddammit. You know what time it is now? This better be good." the tobacco ravaged voice snaps hoarsely over the earpiece. "Commander sir." I say brightly, "Officer Doe reporting for duty." A long awkward silence is all that greets me. Hernandez finally gathers his wits and answers, "Smart ass. Was looking for you the past few days. Had your fun? Ready to talk business?" "Yeah." I drop the faux cheer and begin speaking seriously, "I was talking to the boss about the documents you gave me. You know what we want from you, but it all depends on what your price is." Hernandez responds in a calm , calculating tone, "Funny. And I thought for a moment there that I was your boss. My price is simple. Number one, don''t threaten my family again. Ever. You got that?" "Fair enough." I grunt. "Number two, I need you to do work for me. Violent work that''s right up your alley." Hernandez continues, "Do enough to make me satisfied, and I will help you with floor 50 and let Alley go." Hernandez laughs at his bad pun and The Voice snorts derisively. "One job for one favor." I respond. "You joking?" Hernandez says, "Or have you forgotten that poor Alley is sitting in a cell waiting in vain for someone to rescue her?" I roll my eyes at Hernandez''s ridiculous threat, "I remember. The boss just doesn''t care. I''m not sure that I do either. One job." Alley got into this trouble because of her own stupidity. I am not going to waste my time bailing her out or giving Hernandez any leverage because of this. Hernandez simply grumbles slightly at my response, as if he was expecting me to cut Alley loose. He speaks again after a while, "Alright. One job it is. I got just the thing for you. Something that will really shake things up here. Are you free at 8 pm tomorrow night?" "Wide open, Commander." I quip. "Good. I''m going to be sending you a message on the phone I gave you. You still have it right?" Hernandez says, "Its an address for a restaurant in Six Trees. You''re going to be meeting your co-star for the big event over dinner. I''ll go over the plan then as well. Be there." "Co-star?" I repeat dumbly. "Did I stutter?" Hernandez grumbles again, "Yes, co-star. The three of us are going to be putting on a show for The City and everybody is going to tune in." Hernandez laughs slightly before concluding, "Whether they like it or not." Master and Apprentice Hard knuckles smash across the demon''s face and he goes down on the mat. His partner nails their opponent with a knee to the gut which merely elicits an angry grunt from the target. The target flares his spirit core and with a smooth grapple, lifts the demon over his head in a military press. The demon is then dropped mercilessly on to his groaning partner with a savage crunch. A third demon enters their opponent''s blind spot and delivers a blow to the head, sending the target stumbling. A follow up backhand sends the now helpless man crashing into the mat himself. The man struggles to get up but his legs give out from under him and he unceremoniously face plants back on the sweat stained mat. A whistle is blown, and the demon steps back from his prone opponent. "No, I can still continue." The man whispers tiredly through swollen lips as he staggers back to his feet. The three demons who had shared the mat with him turn to the young girl in a gothic dress that had been watching the fight from the sidelines, awaiting her orders. "Your sparring partners need to be healed young master." Marshal St Clair says, "And you cannot absorb any more instruction in your current state. This will be all for tonight." The trio of demons respectfully bow to both the Marshal and the young master of the House of von Amsterg before leaving the training room set up on the Standart. The young master''s personal maid then steps forward and begins to dry off the sweat on Nicholas''s body with a towel. "Meet me up on the deck when you have changed your clothes, young master." St Clair says before leaving the training room herself, "There is something that I want to discuss with you." .... The night wind blows across the deck and the snow falls gently. St Clair stares soundlessly into the distance, at the lights of The City that paint the horizon. Nicholas, now snugly wrapped in a fine coat, with the maid at his side, walks up to the Marshal and lowers his head, waiting for her to speak. St Clair turns and addresses the maid, "Leave us." The maid silently bows and withdraws at this command, but not without first throwing a flirtatious glance at Nicholas. Nicholas on his part does not respond, his attention wholly focused on the Marshal. "She is beautiful." St Clair offhandedly comments, "Are you sleeping with her?" Nicholas raises his head at being addressed and answers, "I used to Marshal. Though with everything going on now, my attention is required elsewhere." "That never stopped you in the past." St Clair points out. Nicholas ponders for a moment before responding, "I enjoy life and the pleasure that it can provide. I just need to prove something to myself though, before I can get back to all of that." St Clair tilts her head slightly and gestures at Nicholas to continue. Nicholas pauses again, and a look of consternation crosses his face, as if he is having difficulty getting his thoughts in order. He finally speaks, "Things were straight forward when I was younger. My place in the world was clear. My future path was set. It was easy in those days to indulge, especially since I had a clear heart. Then, when I became a man, the goddess showed me the truth."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "A dream. I think you told me this before. It was what guided you to us, was it not?" St Clair remarks. Nicholas''s eyes take on a faraway look as he explains, "Yes. The goddess showed me the truth of my position and the destiny that the Tyrant had planned for me. I was nothing more than a stepping stone for Tensei to bring about the ruin of my House. The truth hurts Marshal, and the goddess''s revelation almost broke me." "Was that why you continued to indulge even after knowing the truth?" St Clair asks. "Partly." Nicholas sighs, "I never liked Tensei, Marshal. Between the two of us, I don''t mind admitting that. I just could not accept an outsider as part of my family. It was a blow to me when papa and especially Rose began to see him as more than a distant relative. Then there was Master Chance and her blatant favoritism of Tensei. By indulging, I could reassure myself that my position in the family was secure, no matter what my eyes were telling me." "You were just acting in the way the Tyrant had planned." St Clair points out, "You were setting yourself up to be Tensei''s stepping stone." Nicholas folds his arms and replies, "Hate blinded me during that time. I accepted the goddess''s revelation, but reckoned that the root of the problem lay with the people around me. I hated Master Chance for favoring Tensei over me. I hated Rose for seeing Tensei as the brother and possible lover she wanted. And I hated Tensei the most for bearing the blessing of the Tyrant, who made his life so easy for him." "But something changed." St Clair prompts. "Yes. Tensei left Berlin and came to The City." Nicholas agrees, "Distance lends perspective, and I realized that all this while, I had been mistaken. Master Chance may have favored Tensei over me, but at the end of the day, she taught both of us the exact same thing. Rose may desire Tensei, but I can tell that Tensei will never love her in the way she wants. And Tensei was not blessed by the Tyrant, but turned into a mindless pawn. It was at this time I finally opened my eyes." "The truth is," Nicholas continues, "the fault lay with me. The goddess had warned me, but I continued to go down the road of self-destruction. We were already in contact back then Marshal, but I did not fully appreciate the help you were giving me. When I realized all this, I resolved that I would not waste this second chance the goddess had given me. I would not let the Tyrant dictate my destiny." Nicholas''s eyes harden for a moment as he concludes, "I would fight for my freedom." St Clair gives Nicholas a dubious look, "You truly do not hate Tensei after all that has happened?" Nicholas shakes his head firmly, "No. I will fight Tensei, Marshal, but out of necessity, not hate. If he had allowed Rose to leave with us back then, I would have arranged for him to live out his life somewhere in peace and comfort. But the time for that has passed. Thanks to papa, the only option left open to us is to fight." St Clair stares at Nicholas for a long time before saying, "I envy you." "Why?" Nicholas asks, dumbfounded. St Clair smiles gently, "You change. You grow. The goddess may have been the one who gave you the opportunity, but you seized it for all its worth. You''re not the boy I met all those years ago." Nicholas waves his hand and demurs, "Its really nothing quite so impressive." St Clair spreads her arms and rebuts, "No? Look at me Nicholas. I am more than a thousand years old, but I will never change. This girl is all I will ever be. No matter how hard I try, I will always be shackled to my past self. What you have achieved is a wonderful thing Nicholas, don''t ever devalue it." "Uh." Nicholas grunts in slight bewilderment, "Well anyway, what was it you wanted to talk about Marshal?" "Its not important." St Clair shakes her head, "It can wait until tomorrow. You are excused Nicholas. I wish to enjoy the breeze for a bit longer." Nicholas salutes and begins to head back inside, but as he departs, St Clair has one more thing to say. The final word that is carried away on the night wind, never to be heard. "I''m proud that you are my apprentice Nicholas. The day the goddess allowed us to meet was truly blessed." Dinner Date "You were lost." I blandly state to The Voice as the black cab cruises down a long street with large trees planted on each side, towards my dinner date with Hernandez and whomever my "co-star" is. "I was not lost." The Voice protests, "The Commander gave the wrong GPS coordinates for the meeting point. I was merely following defective instructions." "You should have just checked the address in the message." I state. The Voice stubbornly digs in, "Then why bother having GPS coordinates in the first place? That is what the cab uses to navigate after all." "You could have seen that we were at the wrong place just now." I point out. "The LED lights strung throughout the trees by the side of the road interfered with the cab''s sensors." The Voice rebuts. "But those sensors are working now, while the cab is driving on the same road, surrounded by the same trees, bearing the same LED lights." I comment in a deadpan tone. "Yes." The Voice confirms. "Really?" I ask while holding back giggles. "Really." The Voice says waspishly, "Now stop bothering me about it. We are at your destination." I check the revolver securely fastened in its concealed carry holster and button the brown blazer over it as the cab stops before a roast chicken restaurant. My stomach starts to rumble as I climb out of the cab. I hope Hernandez ordered plenty to eat, I was once again getting tired of The Voice''s bland cooking. "You really like the whole brown blazer and trousers combo huh? You prepared the exact same clothes for me while I was at the Academy as well." I comment to The Voice as I make my way to the restaurant''s entrance. "It makes you look professional and inoffensive." The Voice explains, "Also, I had already readied the templates for those clothes. It makes the outfit easier and less tiring to spawn." Templates eh? So that was why The Voice is so stingy with the equipment it had been providing me. Crafting atomic death ray pistols or blazing swords of justice for me was out of its budget. Still, I can''t believe that a revolver was the only thing within its price range. "Are things really that tight for you?" I ask, slightly concerned. The Voice is either not doing as well as it had been claiming or it just doesn''t want to invest too much in me. Both possibilities mean nothing good. "Most of my power is reserved for emergencies." The Voice rasps, "For example, interfering in your battle with Master Chance for instance, or preventing Fate from creating new places of power. By deploying my strength in this fashion, I can accomplish what you cannot and provide you with a decisive edge whenever necessary." I shrug, accepting The Voice''s answer. It makes sense at the very least. As I push open the door to the restaurant, the smell of grease, meat and spices hits me. A waiter approaches me and I tell him that I am here on the invitation of Hernandez. As the waiter leads me to the back of the restaurant, I struggle to keep my mouth from watering or my stomach from embarrassing me. Hernandez has good taste in food at the very least. The waiter takes me to a corner table for three right at the rear of the dining room where two men are seated there engaged in deep conversation. One of them matches the photo of Hernandez that The Voice had shown me. Dark skinned and sporting an anachronistic looking mustache, Hernandez looks like he''s an bit part actor in some old timey movie. I got the impression that he was lean from the photo, but Hernandez is positively wiry. He either does not eat enough or has a body that does not put on weight easily. The man is also out and about in casual wear. So this is probably an off the books meeting.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Hernandez restlessly puffs on a cigar while speaking to his companion, a wrinkly old man whose shaved head reflects light like a mirror. Blemishes caused by age dot his entire face and his expression is weighed down by a constant look of fatigue and consternation. Wrinkles wears an expensive suit with a pin on the lapel. Initially impressive, I however quickly notice that the suit has not been ironed lately, with creases on it marring Wrinkles''s appearance. Not bothered with appearances perhaps? Or is Wrinkles no longer able to afford being bothered about such things? Squinting, I notice that the pattern on the lapel matches the one worn by Delinquent back at the Academy. So my "co-star" is from the Matsui family. Figures, going from what The Voice had told me previously. Hernandez waves the cigar about while urging his companion, "Look. You''ve got to stick with the program. Both of us are are in too deep to stop now. The only way out of the shit we are both in is going right through it." Wrinkles frowns as he replies, "I''m running out of enforcers from the raids we mounted. The P5 taking over Six Trees and cutting us off from the rest of The City has also badly impacted our revenues. The family is on its last legs. You said bringing in the P5 would save us Hernandez. I''m not seeing it." Hernandez quickly says, "The P5 is the only reason why you''re not sitting in a jail cell right now. So when the P5 says jump, we ask how high. You get me? Or do you want your old ass to be snatched from your mansion by P5 commandos and dumped in front of SOPO HQ?" "There you are!" Hernandez exclaims as he spots me approaching the table, "About time you got here. Waiter, you can start serving the food." "And this is?" Wrinkles asks as he casts a thoroughly unimpressed glance at me as I am taking my seat at the table. "Godfather Matsui, meet Daffyd Gallant. And vice versa." Hernandez lazily introduces. "Gallant." Matsui muses, "My son told me about you. Said something about you hurting some of our family." Before I can answer, Hernandez cuts in, "Hurt? This guy can do way more than just hurt someone. He''s got serial killer credentials. Bona fide terrorist too." "Hmm. And why is this man sitting here with us?" Matsui says as he narrows his eyes at Hernandez''s colorful description of me. "Should we even be talking about stuff like this in public?" I protest, "Not that any of it is true of course." Hernandez laughs dismissively, "Relax. The other diners are all my people. Here as security. The owner of this place is also a friend of mine. He and his staff are discreet. As to why you''re here, you are the external consultant I''ve been telling the Godfather about." "External consultant." I repeat slowly. "Yes. External consultant." Hernandez nods, "I''ll go over the details of the job soon enough, but let''s eat first. I''m hungry." .... Hernandez is one of those guys that just don''t put on weight easily. As he finishes off the roast chicken while Matsui and I look on with amazement at his appetite, the waiter passes me a sealed folder. Opening it, I see that it is a brochure for an upscale housing project called "Heaven on Earth". Phase two of the housing project to be precise. Going by the brochure, phase one had completely sold out, no small feat considering the prices being asked for those admittedly very nice looking bungalows. "You familiar with the URI?" Hernandez asks me once he finishes wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Yeah." I answer, "Host property development project, buying up City land, chasing people away. What about it?" Hernandez takes a sip from his glass of water before continuing, "Its more than just some property development project. Its the Host''s round about way of building their City of God without getting their faces smashed in by either the P5 or the Legion. Once the URI is complete, its supposed to form a rune or glyph or something like that with Ascension Tower at the center." Matsui makes a dismissive noise, "Urban myth. The URI is just the end result of The City allowing itself to be corrupted by Host money and promises. And the Host on its part is feeding off all the money sloshing about the URI. There is no need to attribute far fetched reasoning to an event when the obvious answer is staring at us right in the face." Hernandez pounces on Matsui''s response, "Then tell us about the promises the Host has been using to get their way." Matsui hesitates at this challenge before saying, "Ascension. But that is most likely another urban myth surrounding the URI." "That''s a lot of urban myths." I comment, "What is ascension referring to anyway?" Hernandez gives a mocking smile as he speaks in a sonorous voice, "That whoever believes in the Host shall not perish, but have eternal life." "Immortality? Seriously?" I ask with my mouth agape. Is that even possible? "Oh yeah." Hernandez agrees, "The Host has promised to take the Council on a trip to pierce the heavens." "And we," he gestures at the three of us while continuing, "are going to bring all of them back down to earth." The Director Immortality? Are you for real? Have you been reading too many conspiracy theory websites Commander? "That''s a crock of bull." I reply to Hernandez, "If the Host could provide immortality, they would not have gotten nuked at the end of the Millennium War." Matsui grunts in agreement, "Precisely. You are looking for complexity where there is none Commander. People die when they are killed. That''s a fundamental law of nature. No amount of magic can change that." Hernandez scowls at Matsui''s sarcasm and shoots back at us, "Look, the P5 and the Legion are taking this business about the URI seriously. They want the City of God put in the ground. Isn''t that proof of at least some part of the rumors being true?" Matsui drums his fingers on the table and responds, "No, its proof that the P5 is having second thoughts about leaving The City to be managed by The Council and that the Legion can''t say anything about it since they have set the precedent with their historical territorial claim business." "Yeah." I agree, "I''m with the Godfather. I don''t see any connection with immortals or ascension here." Hernandez makes an annoyed motion with his hand and says, "Oh hush. Its a job and the two of you are going to do it, alright? Any objections?" I shrug and begin flipping through the brochure once more. I didn''t give a shit about Hernandez''s delusions, he could believe that Nazi Moon Rabbits were preparing to invade earth for all I cared. A job''s a job, and as long Hernandez kept his end of the bargain, I had no problem with working for him. "What was once divided must come together again, United in The City." the blurb on the front page of the brochure reads. Below the blurb is a picture of a bustling future metropolis playing home to humans, angels and demons. Huh, the Host is really banking hard on this unity thing as part of their advertising and propaganda. "Does anyone actually buy this?" I ask both Hernandez and Matsui, pointing at the blurb and the accompanying picture. Matsui snorts, "I definitely don''t. The Host had been plastering that Unity garbage all over Six Trees while we were being evicted once the petition to add the district to the URI passed. There was that Representative which kept talking about it as well." "That guy? I remember him, called Michael, like that famous singer." Hernandez pipes in, "He was babbling about the URI bringing Unity to the world when Council was in session. Or was it three worlds being United? It was the worst kind of nonsense, the boring kind." "Transmigrator," The Voice suddenly rasps, "I want to know more about this subject. Pursue this line of questioning." Uh, OK boss. Though I don''t see why you are so interested in the ramblings of a random politician. "Three worlds united. What''s was that guy talking about?" I ask Hernandez. Hernandez scoffs, "Earth, Heaven and Hell. Three worlds. Michael was claiming that the URI was the first step in bringing the three worlds together as one. Makes no sense to me. Maybe he was referring to rich guys from the three worlds buying property there and staying together? I dunno." "Trying to play on the sentiments stirred up by memories of the truce, most likely." Matsui says. "The City is made up of parts from several cities bolted together." I reply, "Couldn''t the URI in the future include parts of Heaven and Hell that have been added in a similar way?" "Nah." Hernandez dismisses, "You know how difficult it is to cross the spatial rifts separating Earth from those two places? Its the big reason why the P5 is still alive and kicking. No way something the size of a district is going to make it through a rift." The Voice rumbles in satisfaction at the information received, "I will need to talk to you later about this matter, Transmigrator. Continue with your business in the meantime."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. "So this job," I inquire, "I''m assuming you need me to disrupt or smash something with a connection with the URI?" "Not just anything." Hernandez says with his attention is back on the subject at hand, "You''re going to help Godfather here wreck Phase one of the Heaven on Earth housing project." "Are you crazy?" Matsui hisses angrily, "Phase one is already completed. There''s a staffed SOPO station there as well. Do you want all of us to be arrested?" Hernandez answers, "Its because Phase one is completed that I am sending you guys there. As far as The Council is concerned, the URI has to go ahead. Too much money rides on it. The only way to sink the project is to put on a big show on just why anybody who sunk money into the URI is going to lose their shirts." "You''re getting us to wreck the properties already bought by private investors." I point out. "Bingo." Hernandez congratulates with a thumbs up, "Thrash that place and millions of nu-credits would go down the proverbial drain. Then you guys retreat to Six Trees where you will be safe from prosecution. Once the private investors realize that the Host cannot protect the money that has been sunk in, the investors are all going to pull out, sinking the URI once and for all." "How is that different from the raids you had me mount?" Matsui says, "The URI is still being pushed along despite the damage my family has done." Hernandez shakes his head, "Those attacks you did were small scale and hit parts of the URI that were not open to private investors yet. The Host could simply absorb the loss. This time, we''re going right for the jugular. No more faffing about and playing safe. People are going to see millions, no billions worth of already sold property go up in smoke on live TV." "Live TV?" I exclaim. Hernandez laughs, "You''re going to love this. I''ve got a helicopter prepped at ORPO HQ with one of those HD cameras. I''m going to stream the action live as you guys rampage through Phase one. Its going to be magnificent." Matsui slams his fist down on the table, "No! You''re mad Hernandez. ''Playing it safe'' as you call it has already cost me most of my family. They are now rotting in SOPO lockup. How in the world do you expect me to pull this insanity off?" Hernandez''s grin becomes even broader, "By sending everyone left of course. And I mean everyone. We''re going all in on this. We pull this off, Godfather, and the URI is dead. The P5 would also be very grateful." Dumbfounded silence from Matsui and me is all that greets Hernandez''s bold pronouncement. You could hear a pin drop. Hernandez coughs awkwardly and tries to rally us, "Its going to be difficult, but not impossible. Its like an army on its last legs performing a secret attack, turning the tables on the enemy. Like that American guy fighting the British. His army crossed the river and kicked ass. That''s what we''re going to do here." I perform an awkward cough of my own and rebut, "First, it was the Hessians, not the British. Second, that attack took place using fog as cover. You''re expecting us to ''rampage'' in open sight of everyone while also being live on television." "Fine, bad example." Hernandez waves my protest off, "But there is one big difference you guys are overlooking." Matsui snorts, "And that is?" "SOPO is not actually out to kill you guys." Hernandez explains, "Arrest sure. Brutalize probably. But kill no. That evens the odds quite a bit. They''re going to be using riot control gear rather than live ammo or magic swords. That will provide the time you need to wreck the place before SOPO retakes the site." I roll my eyes and fold my arms, "Meaning you don''t care if we get arrested, only that we smash Phase one up. And what will you be doing while we are rampaging about?" "Making sure you guys don''t get arrested." Hernandez smirks, "Once the riot reaches its climax, I''ll send in the cavalry to take control of the situation. SOPO will be forced to let you lot retreat back to Six Trees in the midst of all the chaos. And everyone lives happily ever after." "Somehow I doubt that." I mutter. "Fine. We live happily ever after." Hernandez says, "Screw the Council and the Host. Besides, neither of you have a choice in the matter. If you guys haven''t noticed yet, I''m the one calling the shots here." "If the family survives this," Matsui says tiredly, "its the last favor we do for you. Understood?" I look Hernandez straight in the eye, "Just make sure you can deliver on the payment." "Crystal." Hernandez signals the waiter and a file his handed to both Matsui and myself, "The details of the operation are in the files. Read up and get yourselves prepared on the designated day. Got it?" I get up from my seat and wave goodbye to Matsui and Hernandez. Matsui quickly joins me and the two of us leave the restaurant together. As I wait by the side of the road for The Voice to bring the cab over, an eye catching white stretch limo pulls up in front of Matsui. He does not bother to wait for the driver to open the passenger door for him and just boards the vehicle after giving me a curt nod. Insanity. Complete insanity. I knew Hernandez was getting desperate, but this is something else. A last ditch play to turn the situation around before he is dropped like a hot potato. Matsui is also probably feeling the pressure, that''s why he ultimately went along with this bonkers plan. "What do you think?" I ask The Voice. "Work hard, Transmigrator." comes the amused response. Our Proper Place I climb into the black cab and it begins the journey back to the hideout. I rub my temples in a vain attempt at dispelling my frustration and ask The Voice, "Hernandez''s plan is clearly nuts. And you''re down with it?" The Voice concedes, "The plan certainly could be better, but we do not have much in the way of options presently. Based on what I have learnt from the conversation between the three of you, it is imperative that we disrupt the URI." I idly look out of the cab''s window as it passes through the night streets of Six Trees, "Because of instability it will cause. Still, I think there are better ways to go about this. I''m got a very bad vibe from Hernandez and Matsui at the meeting just now. As if both of them were at the end of their rope." "The scent of desperation." The Voice confirms, "Both Hernandez and Matsui fight against the current unleashed by Fate. Neither of them were ever meant to get so far in their scheme and soon, the tidal wave of destiny will sweep both of them aside." I frown, "And knowing this, you want us to tie our fortunes to a sinking ship?" "The ship was floated by you in the first place, Transmigrator." The Voice rasps, "Your interference at the Squat was the trigger for all of this. Ensuring that Hernandez and Matsui succeed in their plot is in our best interest." I tut to myself as I watch a group of flashily dressed young men and women head into a nightclub. Looks like a popular joint too. Most of the women queuing at the entrance could pass as supermodels or wealthy heiresses. A beefy looking bouncer doing face control selects only the hottest or wealthiest looking club kids to enter. I had already gotten over my hangups over not getting the ''proper'' transmigration experience, but the stress from the constant danger as well as the ever present evidence of the luxury this world could provide was slowly but surely getting to me. "You''ve became oddly interested in the URI though." I comment as I turn my attention back to the matter at hand. Being resentful was no use. I had to deal with the problem in front of me no matter how upset I was feeling. "That is because I have a suspicion as to how Fate intends to use the codex against us." The Voice rasps, "The key was in the URI''s advertising. Unity. Breaking down the barriers between worlds." "The codex can do that?" I quiz, "Drop the barriers between earth and the other two worlds?" The Voice rumbles as it overtakes a sports car driven by some young bugger, "Not directly. Though it certainly can provide the means to do so. Allowing the three worlds to merge into a singular one would immediately turn the P5 into a geopolitical minnow as both the Host and the Legion bring their full strength to bear. Even if the Host only allowed heaven and earth to perform the merge, leaving hell trapped behind the dimensional barrier, the truce would be immediately be torn up, as the Host would have no reason to honor it." "Meaning nuclear war. Again." I say. "Yes." The Voice confirms, "Both the Host and the Legion underestimate the lethality of the P5''s nuclear arsenal and next generation missiles. The P5 has worked out a way to send their nukes through unstable spatial rifts opened at the missile launch sites, allowing a near instantaneous nuclear strike against any target, regardless of any dimensional barrier. Of course, humanity would not survive the subsequent retribution." "Then why bother with the Hero?" I ask, "If the codex can accomplish Armageddon, shouldn''t Fate be concentrating on that avenue of attack?" The Voice rumbles, "Out of self-interest. The codex is the equivalent of a sledgehammer, not a scalpel. Unleashing it in this way would drop all dimensional barriers that are being maintained in this world, including the barriers that both of us have erected around ourselves." "Yeah. I have never actually met you. Not in person." I remark as the sports car The Voice overtook begins tailgating us, "So both of you have been hiding in some kind of divine realm then?" The annoyance begins building up in me again as I realize that The Voice has been giving orders from its cushy pad while I have been out here risking my life. "In simple terms, yes." The Voice admits, "Fate and I transmit our orders and influence from our respective realms. That is the reason why you could not beat back Fate at the Crossroads. Fate''s actual body was simply not there. Using the codex to lift the barriers would render both of us vulnerable. Even if Fate succeeded in causing Armageddon, there is no guarantee that it could survive a direct attack from me before I lost my power."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. "So much safer to keep the actual fighting between pawns huh?" I mutter angrily. This talk is really driving home my actual place in this world. Not just my place, but the Hero''s, the Heroines'' and Fate''s Incarnates. We are all just here so The Voice and Fate don''t get too badly hurt in a scrap. Both of them wanted power, but neither wanted to die over it. And that''s what really annoys me about my situation. I could deal with being disposable. After all, The Voice is not my lover, wife, mother or father. Any employee is ultimately disposable to their boss. So yes, I was fine with being disposable. The annoying part is that everyone in this world, and by extension myself, could not escape the influence of either of these gods. You could leave a job you were unhappy with. You could even leave society if you felt so inclined. Go live in the wilderness like a survivalist or if that''s not your thing, become a NEET jacking it to galge everyday. There is always an option to bow out. Not with The Voice and Fate though. Fate pulled at your soul 24/7. The Voice addled your mind whenever you ate anything and manipulated the entire environment. There was no escape from either of them. Not happy? Good luck getting either of them to take you seriously. Not with the strength they possess. You just had to grin and bear it. The Voice, unaware of my inner turmoil, continues talking, "I had tracked the infrastructure laid as part of the URI while you were having your discussion with Hernandez and Matsui. The Host has created a series of artificial ley lines throughout the URI, with the focal point being Ascension Tower. The ley lines serve as a conduit for spiritual energy once they are activated. There is no other reason for Ascension Tower to need so much spiritual energy unless it is meant to serve as the activation point for the codex." As I try to focus on what The Voice is saying, a luxury sedan overtakes the cab and slows, deliberately blocking my path. Hooting noise comes from the sedan. More young men and women, probably friends of the sports car''s driver. One of the girls, most likely drunk, leans out from an open window and gives me the finger. Thanks to these assholes, the black cab is forced to slow to a crawl. Thoroughly irritated by just about everything, I wind down the cab''s window and give her the finger right back. "Transmigrator, control yourself." The Voice says, but that reminder just gets me even more heated. Yes, tell me to control myself. Just like you tell me to do anything you want me to do. The car in front abruptly brakes and The Voice stops the cab. The gaggle of guys and girls disembark from the car, jeering at me. Rich kids, the lot of them. The sports car behind the cab stops as well, and the driver swaggers out in his ostentatious getup. He walks up to the cab''s passenger door and begins banging on the window, sneering at me all the while. "Time to teach you a lesson." The driver says, "You think is ok to be rude to a lady?" Enough. Enough. I get shit from The Voice everyday. I almost get killed on a regular basis. I get roped into a stupid plan fueled by desperation. Now rich kids want to piss on me. Enough! I disembark and the crowd goes quiet as they spazz out. I draw the revolver and activate the core. I know my place in this world. Its time to teach the locals their place in the food chain. The driver comes to and blanches when he sees the revolver pointing straight at him. I press the gun against the man and force him backwards. "Hey, what do you think you''re doing?" one of the other guys shouts as the group from the other car begins to advance on me. Idiots. You lot must be tired of living. I casually turn and fire the revolver straight into the gut of one of the punks. The impact sends him flying backwards like a rag doll. People scream. "Shut up!" I roar, "Nobody moves!" That''s right, nobody moves, just like Gallant''s asshole sister tried to stop me from moving the other night. I''ve had it! I''ve had it with everything! The driver says, "You''re dead. You know who I am? You know who we-" Before the driver can complete the sentence, I backhand him hard, breaking his jaw. "I said shut up!" I shout. The girl who gave me the finger pleads, "Just let us go. We''re sorry. You won''t see us again. Our friends, we need to bring them to a hospital. Just let us go." I nod and throw the driver to the ground. "Ten seconds. You have ten seconds." I tell him. The driver quickly gets to his feet to escape but I lash out with a kick, breaking his right leg. Finger girl cries in horror. "Eight seconds." I say. "Six seconds." I continue as a stomp from me shatters the driver''s arm. Everyone else is silent. "Four." I say as I level the revolver at the driver''s head. Just as I am preparing to pull the trigger, I feel someone squeezing my shoulder hard. I turn around and see Matsui, his eyes blazing with fury. Did the cab overtake his limo sometime back? "Stop this." Matsui says. Another instruction. Another order. Go to hell. I stomp on the driver again breaking his other leg and press the revolver against Matsui''s throat. "Make me." I whisper. "My son was right about you." Matsui says without fear, "You''re a small man hiding behind your magic." "Say that again." I threaten, "You have a death wish old man?" "You attacked my family at the Academy when you knew they couldn''t beat you." Matsui says, "Just like what you are doing now. Is that anything to be proud of?" "I like winning. I''m tired of being the one at the bottom." I snap, "I''m just putting someone in his proper place." "And that''s why you will always be at the bottom, doing dirty work for others." Matsui says calmly, "A real man rises above provocations. A real man bears his struggles with pride. He does not lash out just to feel good about himself." I push Matsui away and he does not resist. "Get off my back." I say and holster the revolver. Matsui looks at me impassively without saying anything further. I climb back into the cab and The Voice drives off without further comment. Face slapping was never meant to leave such a bad taste in the mouth. The Comrades Everyone applauds as Sera takes her seat at the table. Celeste brings out the hot pot that she had been cooking in the dorm''s kitchen while I start laying the plates and utensils. Its nice to have everyone together for dinner, but couldn''t we have gone to a restaurant instead? With everyone here, my dorm room feels packed. "Amazing!" Celeste exclaims, "Another length of golf braid on your uniform Sera. Soon, you will be recognized as SOPO''s most powerful mage ever." Sera shakes her head and demurs, "I''m still far from Inspector Scott''s level. Its only thanks to the training that we have been putting Tensei through that I have managed to advance so quickly." Ken massages his sore shoulders and agrees, "Yeah. All of you have been improving real quick. I''ve been sparring with Tensei for the past few days and can no longer keep up with him. I''m feeling a bit jealous here." I squeeze Kira''s hand discreetly as I pass her while laying out the plates and she gives me a thankful smile. I know that Kira has been feeling left out during the past few days. She has no knowledge or interest in fighting and has not attended the sparring sessions. I don''t want her to become a third wheel though. All of my friends are important to me. "You moved into the dorms as well, right Ken?" Rose asks as she begins clumsily doling the hot pot out, clearly not used to menial chores. Ken rubs his chin worriedly, "Yeah. The hassle of passing border control became too troublesome, especially since I needed to do it everyday. The old man agreed that I should stay at the Academy temporarily. I don''t agree though, especially when trouble has shown up at our doorstep." "What trouble?" I ask as I take over ladling out the hot pot from Rose. Celeste brings a cloth and starts cleaning up the small spill Rose had caused on the table. "That fake teacher, Gallant." Ken says with a frown, "He showed up at Six Trees recently. Decided to stay there apparently." Sera looks up from her food and answers, "Makes sense. He can''t be touched by SOPO across the border." Ken continues with worry on his face, "Gallant is completely crazy. Just the other night, I heard that he started shooting people in the street. The old man managed to calm Gallant down and get him to stop, but I have a bad feeling about the whole thing. The old man is scared of him and is treating the nutcase with kid gloves. The family also told me that ORPO came down on the people that Gallant was messing with, telling them not to start any trouble." "What?" I say in surprise, "Why isn''t ORPO bringing him in?" Sera replies while savoring the hot pot, "We suspected for a long time that Gallant has ORPO connections. That''s the reason why Mrs Alley, his accomplice, remains in custody to keep her from talking while he walks around free. ORPO is not going to arrest Gallant."This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Kira suddenly pipes up, "Tensei, I''ve talked to a friend in the Host, and he says that they are willing to help you in your fight against Nicholas." "That''s wonderful." I smile, "Thanks Kira. I know you''ve put a lot of effort into this." Rose scowls slightly, "Just helping Tensei? Its a battle between teams of two you know. What kind of help is the Host going to give?" Kira smiles sweetly back at Rose, but her face oozes with transparent insincerity, "Its confidential. Tensei will be contacted once the arrangements are ready. After all, Tensei is the one that will be doing all the hard work in the contest itself." Rose looks like she is about to bite Kira''s head off and clenches her fist reflexively. Its true that I''ve been improving faster than Rose throughout the training, but there is no need to rub it in her face like that. Ken quickly nudges me in the ribs and whispers, "Cat fight incoming. Do something fast." Before I can say anything, Celeste doles out another share of the food for both Kira and Rose. "Its great that the Host is willing to help both of you." she says cheerfully, "We''re all in this together right?" Rose and Kira glare one more time at each other before reluctantly continuing to eat. I give a grateful smile to Celeste and she flashes a playful wink at me. Disaster averted. Really, tensions have been high the last few days during training, and without Celeste regularly visiting us, some sort of quarrel would have eventually broken out. Ken has been on tenterhooks about his family and conflict has been growing between him and Sera. Apparently Ken''s family has been tussling with SOPO and trashing private property during the last few days. Ken''s been upset about the arrests made by SOPO and Sera sees Ken as a bad influence to be around with. Rose and Sera have not really been getting along well too. Rose is resentful of Sera''s role as our instructor and says that Sera is taking the opportunity to monopolize me. I mean, Sera does need to interact with me during training right? Its not as if I''m complaining about Rose having Irene''s full attention during the training sessions. Its just that both Sera and Irene felt that Rose would benefit more from Irene''s lectures on battle magic theory while I was sent to spar with Sera and Ken. Throw Kira into this volatile mix with her own issues and we could very well have had a huge friendship wrecking blow up. Thank goodness for Celeste though. Her friendly calming presence kept everything from boiling over and into something we would all regret. Everyone is playing a part in helping me here. I don''t want to lose them as friends, especially not before I am in the position to repay all the kindness I have received. If anything the last few days have taught me, its that we are stronger together than we are apart. All of us have made great improvements in our skills. Sera has just received a promotion thanks to her increased power. Rose''s understanding of battle magic now is on par with most of the Academy''s teachers. Kira has worked on her singing and when she sang for us after practice last night, all of us could feel the increased strength of her spirit. Ken lags behind, but even he is trying hard, both for me and himself. My attention is drawn to the sound of laughter coming from everyone as they laugh at a joke told by Celeste. None of this would be possible without her. This precious feeling that I have, I owe it entirely to her. She really is the glue that binds all of us together. Celeste notices me looking at her and gives me a warm smile. The kind of smile made between friends. My heart hurts at this sight. Why? As I cast my eyes across the table, seeing the happy faces, the wonderful food and the hope we all have in the future, I come to a realization. I want these days to go on forever. I want all of us to be together, to face the future with courage, no matter what the outcome may be. I will pay whatever price that needs to be paid to see this dream come through. So don''t lose heart in me everyone. I will never leave any of you behind. Pay and Benefits "I''m fine." I say as I leaf through the file Hernandez had given me the other night while cross-referencing the live satellite reconnaissance footage I had asked The Voice to pull up on the laptop. The Voice rasps with a hint of concern, "Are you sure? You almost suffered a psychotic break a few nights ago." "When I say I''m fine, it means I''m fine alright?" I snap, "I have been under a great deal of stress lately." The Voice merely grunts in vague agreement with me. After my so-called psychotic break in streets of Six Trees, I had spent the time holed up in the hideout alternately sleeping and preparing for the attack on the URI. Hernandez had given me a call some time later, saying that he had gotten those club kids to shut up about my antics, but strongly implied that this was yet another favor I owed him and that I had better deliver on my part of the deal. When I told Hernandez my amendments to the plan that he had put forward in the file that was given me, Hernandez did not object and quickly signaled his approval. Hernandez''s original plan required me to meet up with Matsui at the entrance of the Heaven on Earth site. Then I would lead the family on a merry rampage up and down Phase One of the development. Ever since the night I shot that club kid though, I suspect that Matsui wants as little to do with me as possible. That was probably one of the reasons why Hernandez agreed so readily to my suggestion that I operate independently of Matsui. He did not want to risk another confrontation if Matsui and I were directly teamed up with each other. The additional sleep I had gotten over the last few days had done wonders for my temper and although I was not exactly happy, I now feel much calmer than a few days before. I have the clarity of mind to understand that there was no point in needlessly provoking Matsui and if such a confrontation can be avoided, then avoided it shall be. No need to prove a point when none needed to be proven. The more substantive reason why I want to work on my own is because The Voice had intercepted several SOPO internal communications which indicated that they were aware of Hernandez''s scheme. SOPO knew when Hernandez and Matsui would be showing up at Phase One, and had begun to put together a task force to bury the mismatched duo for good. Not only had the SOPO station at Phase One been alerted, additional reinforcements from SOPO HQ and RAU were being prepped for the upcoming rumble. SOPO intended this operation to be the final blow against the Matsui Family and the end of Hernandez''s career as ORPO Commander. Clearly Hernandez needed to do something about his information security in the future, if there was even a future for him after this. The good news was that Hernandez was not bullshitting when he said that SOPO did not want to kill us. The task force being prepped is being loaded up with riot control gear, not lethal arms. The other piece of good news is that SOPO is unaware that Hernandez had roped me in as part of his scheme. I had to take advantage of the element of surprise in order to turn the tables on the task force since Hernandez was not willing to delay the operation even after I had told him that SOPO knew that we were coming. Hernandez was not terribly surprised that I apparently had connections in SOPO or that SOPO had their moles deep within his organization. He nevertheless insisted that the operation go ahead, saying that things had gone too far to pull back now. So that meant not showing up together with the Matsui Family at Phase One. The SOPO task force would be there ready for a fight and the more time we spent fighting cops, the less time we had to raze the place to the ground. The Voice had confirmed that in order for Hernandez''s plan to create the desired amount of instability, either a certain level of property damage had to be inflicted on Phase One or SOPO had to be defeated publicly. Since the former option was far more achievable, I made the decision to use Matsui''s people as a diversion while I get down to the work at hand. Based on the footage that The Voice had acquired for me, Phase One is pretty much adjacent to the Phase Two site of the Heaven on Earth building project that was still under construction. The night before the operation, I would sneak into Phase Two and hide myself there, lying in wait until Matsui and his family show up the next day. I did not expect getting into Phase Two to be a problem. Based on the surveillance footage that I had observed for the past few days, Phase Two was protected at night by nothing more that a few security guards. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Can I hijack the heavy vehicles at the Phase Two site?" I ask The Voice while the surveillance footage shows several large dump trucks carrying sand scurrying around the site like overgrown ants. "With me assisting you, it will not be a problem." The Voice answers easily. "Get me molotovs as well. Or at least something that burns good." I say. I would have preferred to wire Phase One up with explosives, but with an actual police presence there at high alert, the risk of discovery was simply too high. Setting the place on fire while Matsui''s keeping the police busy is really the better option. "Molotovs cocktails filled with pyroil." The Voice rumbles, "Easy enough." Is it just me or has The Voice become far more accommodating ever since I lost it the other night? I tap my chin as I consider what else needs to be prepared, "Get me some non-lethal weapons too. I don''t want to give SOPO a reason to escalate against me." The Voice rumbles, "The stun baton is available. I can repair the grenade launcher you had picked up earlier during the attack on the Academy and supply you with flash bang and bean bag rounds. Is that acceptable?" I fold my arms and reply, "Great. That''s great. Now tell me why you''re being so nice out of the blue." "What do you mean?" The Voice asks in a thoroughly fake mystified tone. "Stop playing games." I shoot back, "You''ve said it before. Acting coy works only if you''re a cute girl. You''re not a cute girl, so spill." The Voice sighs and speaks in its familiar, patronizing manner, "I do not wish to hurt your delicate maiden''s heart, Transmigrator. If putting on a show is all it takes to stop you from experiencing another psychotic break, then that is a price I am more than willing to pay." There we go. That''s The Voice I know so well. "Your act did not last very long." I point out flatly. "Only because you called me out on it." The Voice replies, "It takes two to tango after all." "I don''t want that bullshit." I answer, "If I can''t get the one hundred percent transmigration experience, that''s fine. I''ve gotten over it. But I can''t shake the feeling that I''m being underpaid for my work here." The Voice rumbles in a satisfied tone, "Excellent, we are finally discussing the root of your dissatisfaction. Then let us talk about rewards and benefits. Is freeing yourself from Mr Gallant''s soul and being sent home an inadequate payoff for our adventure?" I snort derisively, "That''s minimum wage. I''m doing far more than minimum wage work here." "If you consent to staying in this world after Fate is defeated, I could set you up as a king." The Voice offers. "Pass." I answer, "I want something that I can take home with me." The Voice hums to itself for a moment before speaking, "A bit more difficult, but not impossible to arrange. A pension perhaps? I will need to clear it with your world''s administrator though." I raise an eyebrow, "Is my world''s administrator going to be a problem? And how much of a pension are you talking about here?" The Voice rasps, "If its something as mundane as money, I do not see your world''s administrator having much of an objection. As for the amount, in return for asking you to risk your life for me, I guarantee you will never need to work ever again." "This better not be a monkey''s paw type of deal." I say with a furrowed brow. "Then let me be more precise." The Voice clarifies, "If we succeed in our quest and you return to your world, as long as your world''s administrator does not object, I will provide you with an annual income in precious metals that will place you in the top 20% of earners in your world. This income will be paid until the day you pass on. Is that acceptable?" "There''s still a caveat to that offer though." I note sourly. The Voice responds indifferently, "Your world''s administrator is a factor I cannot control, though as I have said before, I do not see any objections on its part for a blessing so mundane. However, if you want a guaranteed reward from me, you will need to stay on here in this world." Huh. So if I want a big payout after all this, I will either need to roll the dice or give up on going home and stay here with The Voice. "Can I think about this?" I ask. "Certainly." The Voice says, "As a show of goodwill, I will say right now that both of these offers are firm ones and I will not retract either of them. Nevertheless, it goes without saying that your reward is dependent on the success of our quest." Well then, I had better start working hard. No rest for the wicked indeed. The Power of Friendship "I refuse to be believe it." Ken says with a stony face, "My family would never do anything like that." Sera responds in a slightly smug tone, "Just like they did not attack those other building sites? So I suppose those jokers we arrested were all impersonators?" Celeste looks close to tears as she apologizes, "I''m sorry! This is all my fault! I never intended to leak news of the upcoming operation. Can we just forget about it and eat the cake?" I stare at the scene dumbfounded. Its just after yet another training session, this time held at the Academy''s gymnasium. I had just finished my after practice shower when I walked into an argument unfolding in front of me. To think this altercation between my friends started all because of some cake. While I am still trying to get my head around this turn of events, Irene tries to get the situation under the control. "Thank you for the cake, Celeste." Irene says gently, "Its delicious. And I appreciate your gesture as well. But how did you know that I would be involved in an operation against the Matsuis?" "So its true?" Ken exclaims and glares venomously at Irene. Sera frowns and lightly punches Ken in the gut causing him to grunt softly in pain. Celeste twiddles her index fingers together and looks down sadly, "I live in Six Trees you know, and Ken''s family is based there. The rumor on the street is that everyone is going off to fight SOPO soon. The buses to take them out of Six Trees have already been rented. That''s how I knew where and when Ken''s family was going to be fighting. Then Ms Scott told us the other day that she would not be free to help with the training on that exact same date." Irene nods, "So you put two and two together. You''re quite the little detective Celeste. And a wonderful cook. Your husband will be very lucky to have such a talented wife." Irene fondly ruffles Celeste''s hair and Celeste blushes shyly. Celeste smiles again and responds, "I just wanted to wish you well Inspector. You''re fighting for all of us in Six Trees." I give Ken a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as the veins in his head begin to bulge from anger. "Could someone back things up a little?" Rose asks, "I''ve no idea what is going on here. Why is there cake by the way?" Having just come out from the shower, Rose has no clue as to what in the world is going on right now. The contradictory presence of cake and a brewing quarrel must have gotten her pretty confused. Sera answers, "Ken''s just not happy that more of his family is about to be arrested soon." I have to restrain Ken from trying to hit Sera because of that verbal jab. Sera just smirks haughtily at Ken, relishing in his discomfort. Celeste looks crestfallen that the argument had been stirred up once again while I desperately turn to Irene for support. "Sera, please." Irene delivers a reprimand, "You are not helping matters. Eat some cake." Sera frowns at this dismissal but obligingly starts nibbling on a slice of the cake Celeste brought. Ken looks a little mollified at this display and directly asks Irene, "What''s the deal then? What is really going on?" Irene folds her arms and states, "Celeste guessed correctly Ken. Your family is planning a big move against a Host linked housing project. I don''t know who put your family up to it, but it doesn''t matter at the end of the day. Security for that project was handed over to SOPO, and we are not going to roll over for the Matsuis." "The old man never told me anything about this." Ken protests. I take the opportunity to speak, "Is SOPO sending you as well, Irene?" Irene affirms grimly, "Yup. We heard that the Matsuis are going all in on this raid, so SOPO cannot afford to hold back. SOPO HQ have called in almost all available officers for this operation. RAU troops are going to be dispatched as well. I have been ordered to lead the joint task force during the attack itself."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Ken abruptly breaks free from my grip and charges straight at Irene. We all feel the sudden change in pressure as Ken surges his spirit core and his fist flies forward towards Irene''s face like a bullet. Irene does not flinch and calmly raises her own hand, easily catching Ken''s fist with her open palm. With a quick twist of her wrist, Irene then sends Ken sprawling on to the floor. "I am going to ignore that," Irene tells Ken, "because I know what you are going through right now. You are not helping your family''s case though." Amazing. I may be getting stronger quickly, but there is no way I could beat Ken so easily and quickly. Irene really does live up to all the gold braid on her uniform. Ken flushes with embarrassment and looks down, completely despondent. I hurriedly move to help Ken up. Ken may have been wrong to attack Irene, but his heart is in the right place. He just needs to cooperate with rather than antagonize Sera and Irene. "Let Ken and I come with you then." I suggest to Irene. Sera immediately protests, "How does that make sense? What do you think the two of you will accomplish? Are the two of you going to talk down the entire Matsui family?" Irene regards me calmly, "Sera is right, Tensei. There is not much you can do under these circumstances. Just focus on your training and let SOPO do its job." Rose pipes up, "Tensei, if you get hurt, who will be with me then? Don''t do this. Stop acting recklessly." "We can help." I insist, "Ken, you said that your family would never do anything like this, right?" "Yes." Ken confirms without hesitation, "We would never do something so dishonorable, hurting people who had done us no wrong." "That means an external force is compelling your family to act this way." I say, "Your position as heir to the family means something right?" Ken smiles and clenches his fist, "Yeah, my word still means something to those guys. Between me and the outsider that is pulling the strings, the boys would respect whatever I''m saying far more. I am confident that I can get a large proportion of the enforcers to back off." "Is that so?" Rose asks doubtfully. "I don''t know whether you noticed," Ken answers, "but I did get lots of my family over to protect the Academy on the night you were kidnapped, princess. So yeah, pretty sure I still got sway in the family." Irene mumbles to herself, conflicted, "Getting people to stand down without fighting would certainly be helpful." Sera immediately protests, "Madam! You cannot be serious. There is no guarantee that this half-baked idea will work." Celeste raises her hand and speaks in her demure voice, "I think its a good idea. Ken and Tensei should go with Ms Scott." Sera barks in surprise, "What? Why? I thought you hated Ken. Why are you speaking up for him?" Celeste plays with the bow of her uniform as she replies, "I hate the Matsuis. They bullied the people living in Six Trees just because they are strong. But Ken kept his word not to hurt me. I think underneath all his macho posturing, Ken is trying to be a good person. Just like I''m sure there are good people in his family as well. If we gave them a chance to do the right thing, I''m sure that they will do it! Right, Tensei?" "Yes. That''s right." I reply to Celeste, "We were wrong about Ken at first, and now he''s our friend." Irene thinks for a moment and says, "Alright. Ken can come with me, but Tensei, you will be staying here with Rose. Sera will be protecting both of you while I am away." Celeste raises her hand again and we hear the demure voice, "Tensei has to go with Ken. Ken is going to stand against his own family. He needs the support of his best friend, otherwise he may be pressured to give up on the plan." Ken scowls slightly but nods, "I''m no coward, but I''d appreciate it if you came with me Tensei. Its not going to be emotionally easy for me to tell the guys to back off just like that. Especially if I show up on SOPO''s side of the line. I just need you to have my back. You don''t need to do anything else." "Behind you all the way." I pat Ken on the back. Rose then asks, "What about Kira? Doesn''t Tensei need to meet up with her for whatever help the Host is going to provide?" "I already spoke to Kira." I say, "She told me that preparations will take some time and that she will contact me once she is ready. That''s the reason why Kira has not been coming over recently." "Well, I suppose I can''t object based on that." Rose mutters sulkily as she withdraws from the argument. Irene takes one more look at all of us and says, "Then its decided. Sera, you stay here at the Academy and protect Rose. Tensei and Ken are with me. I''ll give you two the details of when to meet up with me at SOPO HQ later. We will ride to the building site together and join up with the task force there." "When is the fight going to take place?" I ask. "Two days time." Irene says, "So get yourselves rested up." Celeste begins to hand out slices of the cake with a smile, "Now everyone, lets dig in!" I raise my slice of cake in faux toast and Ken joins me. Two days time. We can stop this madness, I''m sure of it. The Beast Darkness still shrouds the Phase Two site in the early morning and I had easily slipped past the security guards posted at the site''s entrance. With The Voice''s guidance, I quickly made my way towards the site''s vehicle pool. Dump trucks, excavators and cement mixers a lined up in a neat row, waiting for their operators. I was not interested in any of those vehicles. There was one vehicle in particular that caught my eye from the surveillance footage that The Voice had screened for me, and my plan revolved around seizing control of that piece of kit. A bulldozer, but not just any vanilla rubble pusher. This one was built as an absolute monster, and the slumbering beast lies resting at the end of the row, ripe for the taking. I run my hand appreciatively across the steel "cage" that protects the exterior of the bulldozer''s cabin. The bulldozer''s chassis has also been reinforced with a layer of armor that by my estimation, would make it impervious to small arms fire. The dozer blade appears to be upsized from what you would usually see on a construction vehicle, giving the contraption an overall impression of brutishness. "Demolition is really serious business here." I offhandedly comment as I continue my inspection of the bulldozer. The Voice rumbles, "Corrie Class Armored Mechanical Engineering Vehicle. Originally developed to clear out armed and recalcitrant refugees from their hovels during the global reconstruction. It made its name during a notorious event where a protester declared that her hovel would only be demolished over her dead body. Her hovel was subsequently demolished over her dead body by a Corrie." "No shit." I mutter, "There''s an empty mount located on the dozer''s rear. Is that for a weapon?" "Yes." The Voice confirms, "Corries in their military configuration are equipped with a remote controlled heavy machine gun. Unfortunately, the civilian variant you see before you has been defanged." "The Host must have rented this piece of hardware when the opposition to demolishing the old neighborhoods began to grow." I muse, "This monster still works right?" The Voice rasps, "A Corrie requires a crew of two to operate. Thankfully, I can fill in for the driver. You will play the role of the vehicle commander, identifying targets for me and plotting our course through Phase One." "Can''t you do both?" I ask. The Voice replies, "Unlike the cab, Corries do not possess sensors for navigation, relying entirely on the natural sight of its crew. I can use an aerial drone to assist in directing the bulldozer, but the lag in extracting the footage would put us at a disadvantage. Direct guidance from you would be far more beneficial." "I don''t think bulldozers go fast enough for my direct feedback to be that useful." I comment. "That is where you are wrong." The Voice corrects, "Corries are powered not by an engine, but by a turbine. Once I bring the turbine to full power, the Corrie will charge forward like a rocket. On the spot guidance is needed to take full advantage of the Corrie''s speed." A turbine. Sounds like these monsters were originally meant to charge straight into the fray and mow down both buildings and squatters. If The Voice''s account of the Corrie''s history is true, these beasts have plenty of blood on their hands. Not that they have hands. Dozer blades I suppose. I hear The Voice unlocking the Corrie''s cabin and climb up to it, stowing the sling bag full of molotovs and the grenade launcher securely within. If this monster is really as impressive as it sounds, I probably wouldn''t need the extra firepower, though it doesn''t hurt to be prepared. I feel up the bandoleer of grenade launcher ammo and the stun baton hidden underneath the sex offender trench coat and gently rap the stab vest that I am wearing. Everything seems to be in order. I cradle the motorcycle helmet underneath my armpit as I settle into the cabin. The Corrie''s door locks behind me and keeping out the winter chill. "How much longer?" I ask. The Voice considers for a moment, "The Matsuis are on their way to Phase One in a procession of chartered buses. Considering the traffic, they will reach the site as morning breaks. However, a complication has arisen." I knew it. Fate wouldn''t let us trash this place without a fight. The Voice continues, "I have detected Inspector Scott bringing both the Hero and Mr Matsui Junior to the site with her. Transmigrator, be cautious when we commence our attack later. Fate may be attempting to kill with a borrowed knife."The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Borrowed knife?" I repeat in confusion. "A saying from your world." The Voice elaborates, "Remember, you are a fugitive and we are currently outside of Six Trees. The Hero may have been lured here by Fate to fight you. Defeating the Hero will set our plan to save the world back. In the alternative, your defeat might very well result in your capture or death. Either outcome from the fight will be detrimental to us." I frown. Getting closer to the Hero would have solved this issue, but the problem lay in the fact that Fate knew that I ultimately wanted the Hero dead. That made getting closer to him hazardous for my health. Nothing for it then. I need way to keep the Hero from interfering while I do my job. "We will deal with it when the time comes." I say while shutting my eyes for a quick nap. "Agreed." The Voice responds, "Anything could happen in between." .... "Tensei, Ken, we''re here." Irene tells us, breaking her silence. After Ken and I met up with Irene earlier at SOPO HQ when the sky was still dark, a chauffeured squad car took us directly to the building site where everyone else participating in the operation was waiting. Ken had been coiled up as tense as a spring throughout the entire journey here but I managed to calm him down somewhat at least. Confronting his family over something that he personally feels is wrong is not an easy thing to do. But that doesn''t change the fact that it still is the right thing that needs to be done. The early morning sun shines down on the assembled SOPO and RAU officers standing before us. Behind the officers are a pair of riot control APCs standing by. Irene nods briefly at the officers and the three of us walk towards the neatly arranged ranks to take our place. In the distance, we hear the noise of an advancing mob. Ken''s family must have just arrived as well. Things are about to start. "Both of you know what to do?" Irene asks us. I nod saying, "When Ken''s family shows up, he will use a bullhorn to get them to stand down. I''ll be right behind him to make sure nobody tries anything. If things look like they''re not working out, both of us will retreat behind the SOPO line." "I can do this. I can do this." Ken repeats to himself, his eyes completely focused. Irene looks at both of us and says, "Alright. Both of you don''t take any unnecessary risks. Any sign of danger and you pull back, is that clear?" We can see the mob forming at the site''s entrance. Its huge, far larger than I thought was possible. Irene was right when she said that Ken''s family is serious about wrecking this place. The mob crosses over the boundary of the site and cautiously edges towards the SOPO lines. The officers tense and ready themselves for action. Weapons are raised on both sides. The APCs swivel their turrets in the direction of the mob. A helicopter buzzes aimlessly overhead. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Ken grabs a bull horn that was handed to him and both of us head to the front of the SOPO line together. The mob hesitates the moment it catches sight of Ken. Its already working, we can do this! Ken raises the bull horn and speaks, "Who put you guys up to this? Is this how the family does things?" The mob stops in its tracks, confusion over the collective faces of its members. Ken strikes again while the iron is hot, "Have you forgotten that the Matsui name means something? We''re not simple thugs for hire!" Murmurs now begin to erupt from the mob, it looks like they are discussing something urgently. "If you want to wreck this place, you all have to go through me." Ken declares, staking his prestige as the Matsui heir on the line. That should be enough. No one in the family would hurt its heir apparent. The mob parts, revealing a bald old man who walks forward and stops at the no man''s land that has formed between the two sides. The old man gestures at Ken to join him there. Ken with an aghast expression on his face quickly drops the bull horn and rushes forward before I can stop him. Isn''t that Ken''s father? This is bad, Ken''s prestige as the heir is nothing compared to the actual head of the family. The two of them begin whispering to each other, but from the old man''s furious expression, I can tell its not a pleasant discussion. The expression on Ken''s face becomes determined and it looks like he is not going to back down either. As the two of them argue, I hear a crashing sound somewhere in the distance and the helicopter overhead drifts away. The old man slaps Ken hard on the face before anyone can react. As Ken is nursing his cheek, the old man then grabs Ken by the arm and begins to drag. Ken struggles and in the tussle, shoves his father hard, causing the old man to tumble into the dirt. As everyone looks on at the family quarrel going on in front of them, I once again hear a series of crashing sounds, this time coming from much closer. A shout of surprise comes from the Matsui side and I turn around to see what they are gawking at. Just in time to bear witness to an armored bulldozer plowing into a bungalow, obliterating the building utterly. The bulldozer does not stop and scrambles towards the next house in line, leveling the house with a single pass. The bulldozer''s cabin then opens and a lighted molotov cocktail is thrown out towards a nearby landscaped park. The cocktail explodes on impact and fire spreads outwards, consuming the trees and shrubbery. Dust clouds the horizon, rising from the many houses that the bulldozer has already destroyed. Irene shouts in alarm, dispatching men to stop whomever is driving the bulldozer before it is too late. On seeing this sight, Ken''s father gestures urgently at his men, ordering them to charge the SOPO line. Ken just stands dumbly on the spot, unable to comprehend what is going on around him. I run towards Ken and try to pull him back to safety, but the tidal wave of men engulfs us, cutting us off from Irene and the rest. As the chaos around us surges, I hear Irene''s desperate shouting in the distance. But I can''t get back to her now. Ken is being dragged away by his father''s men. I have to save him. No, I must save him. What kind of friend would I be otherwise? Demolition Man I watch in satisfaction as the flames from the molotov cocktail spreads throughout the private park built for the future residents of Phase One. I quickly retreat back into the Corrie''s cabin and slam the door closed as a fusillade of rubber bullets are pelted against the vehicle''s armored hide. "Full speed ahead." I tell The Voice, "Plenty of mansions that still need smashing." The Corrie''s turbine roars as The Voice does not spare the gas and the entire contraption lunges forward like a starving animal right into another row of bungalows. As the bulldozer smashes into each building in rapid succession, The Voice swings the dozer blade vigorously up and down, sending masonry flying everywhere. Yet another gaping wound is ripped into the body of Phase One as the Corrie successfully performs its attack run. "The Hero is currently embroiled in a fight with the Matsui family." The Voice observes, "Was that your doing?" "Yeah." I answer as I open the cabin door to throw another lighted up cocktail, "When you told me that Delinquent was making a fool of himself back there, I mind blasted him. I told Delinquent to ignore everything that was happening around the site. I figured that once Delinquent became dead on his feet in the middle of a riot, it would compel the Hero to do hero things." The Voice rasps, "Well done. Using the Hero''s integrated programming against him. Though I fear that the Matsuis will keep his attention for only so long." The another gout of liquid flame erupts from where I threw the cocktail, setting a terrace house aflame. Hernandez had told me that he was going to have this event live streamed. Since the Commander was going through all this trouble, I might as well put on a spectacular show for the audiences hopefully tuning in. Just as I am ruminating, my head is snapped backwards as a rubber bullet impacts against the motorcycle helmet I am wearing. I hurriedly scramble back into the cab and The Voice helpfully slams the cabin''s door shut. "Take a turn to the right at full speed, more high value homes to wreck there." I say, "As long as we keep moving, the troopers can''t hope to catch up and swarm us." The Corrie peels off in the direction I indicated as a RAU trooper launches a tear gas grenade at it. The grenade is easily deflected by the Corrie''s slat armor and ineffectually sprays its payload some distance away from the vehicle. Grabbing the grenade launcher, I open the cabin door again and fire a flash bang straight into the advancing group of officers. The retina searing explosion from the flash bang forces the RAU troopers to disperse and halt their pursuit. And so the Corrie is sent on yet another blitz against a row of mansions. These ones fare no better than the others and the air is filled with dust and flying rubble. In the safety of the cabin, I struggle clumsily to reload the grenade launcher with just one working arm. "When will my right arm be fixed?" I complain. "At an indeterminate time." The Voice says, "Mr Gallant did use it to channel a massive amount of my power after all." Before I can grumble any further, my heart leaps into my throat as an APC begins barreling towards the Corrie through the cloud of dust The Voice had stirred up. Shit. Things are getting serious here. "Faster! We must outrun that APC!" I urgently tell The Voice. "Impossible." The Voice rumbles as the Corrie powers forward, "That Armored Personnel Carrier has a higher top speed than the Corrie. It will catch up with us eventually." As the APC closes in on us, several SOPO officers begin climbing up to the APCs roof brandishing their sabers. Am I going to need to have to repel boarders here? "What happened to non-lethal only?" I exclaim. The Voice answers, "SOPO is making an exception for you. We have already caused several million nu-credits worth of damage to Phase One. They cannot allow us to continue." "Keep driving straight along the road." I command, "I need a clear field of view." I lean out of the cabin and level the grenade launcher at the incoming APC. With a pull of the trigger, a flash bang is sent flying towards the APC''s roof where it erupts like a blazing star. A pair of SOPO officers on the roof are sent reeling from the attack and they fall haphazardly off the roof on to the road. I am rewarded for my effort by the APC''s cannon blasting me backwards with chemical laced water before the cabin closes up. Good thing I have got the helmet on. The sex offender trench coat also prevented any of the water from actually getting on my skin as well. As I fumble about loading the launcher with a bean bag round, the APC pulls alongside the Corrie and the remaining SOPO officers leap from their vehicle and sink their claws into the bulldozer. Their sabers blaze with magical power as the officers begin hacking at the joints holding the slat armor on to the cabin. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "Right turn!" I shout, "Into that transformer building!" The Voice obligingly makes a lazy turn with the Corrie, veering into the building I indicated. As I am jolted backwards into my seat from the impact, a SOPO officer loses his grip on the Corrie as his body slams against a piece of heavy machinery. But there are still probably three officers left hanging on the bulldozer. Things look even worse when the slat armor protecting the left door of the cabin is sliced off its mounting with a shower of sparks. The officers redouble their efforts and the banging noises against the cabin intensify. The APC pulls ahead of us and performs a hard turn before stopping, allowing its bulk to block the road. The Voice guns the turbine and lowers the dozer blade, sending the Corrie charging forward like an armored knight. "I will remove the obstacle in front of us." The Voice says, "Kindly deal with the nuisances vandalizing the machine." Before I can reply, a saber blade erupts through the seam between the cabin door and the vehicle chassis, almost skewering my head. The blade begins to twist, its wielder trying to pry the door of its hinges. I signal the core and kick at the door hard, sending both the door and a pair of SOPO goons flying off into the distance. The third officer drops from the Corrie''s roof and tries to invade my private space from the now clear opening into the cabin, but is greeted by the barrel of the grenade launcher. The bean bag round smacks solidly into the officer''s mouth, sending blood and teeth flying. Another kick from me sends this new guy rolling senselessly off the bulldozer. With a crunch of metal, the Corrie makes contact with the APC and the dozer blade slides underneath the APC''s undercarriage. The Corrie groans with effort as the dozer blade rises, slowly lifting the APC up. The Voice then pushes the bulldozer forward, causing the APC to flip over to its side. "Alright!" I cheer. "Now is not the time to celebrate." The Voice dourly states, "Fate is not done interfering with this scenario. The real danger is up ahead." "No shit." I shoot back, "Scenario as elaborate as this would not be complete without a boss fight. In fact, I think its about to start just about now. Another APC is closing in on us from the rear." I squint as I take a gander at the incoming threat. A similar APC to the one we had just wrecked, but there is only one SOPO officer standing on the roof this time. An officer with an extremely well endowed chest. "Its Big Tits. She''s the boss?" I mutter. The Voice rasps, "Its possible. Strictly speaking, Inspector Scott is currently the most powerful combatant present on the SOPO side." Big Tits summons her spirit sword and her nimbus explodes outwards with raw power. With a powerful swing of the spirit sword, Big Tits sends a shock wave of energy slashing out towards the Corrie. Forewarned, I manage to duck and cover in time to see the upper half of the cabin sheered cleanly off, exposing me completely. "No way!" I shout in alarm, "Can you dodge her attacks?" The Voice snorts, "With this bulldozer? No." Big Tit''s spirit begins to focus and build up in strength again. Thinking fast, I light a cocktail and throw it at her. Big Tits''s eyes snap towards the incoming fuel bomb and she fires the shock wave to intercept my attack rather than to total the Corrie. Globs of liquid fire splash all over the road as Big Tits dusts off her uniform with an irritated look on her face. I reach into the sling bag and ready another molotov as Big Tits flares her spirit core again. I can keep Big Tits from attacking me this way, but sooner or later, my supply of cocktails will run dry. All I am doing is buying myself some extra time. I need to find a solution to Big Tits now. "At the roundabout, take the third right." I hastily instruct. "That will take us deeper into Phase One." The Voice observes. "Right to the SOPO station." I confirm as another cocktail is shot out of the air by Big Tits, "We can''t wreck Phase One as long as Big Tits is on our tail. We need to settle for the next best thing, trashing SOPO''s station here in full view of everyone." "Very well. Given the circumstances, I will push the Corrie''s turbine beyond its safe limits." The Voice agrees, "Hold on to something." The Corrie abruptly begins to increase in speed and an unhealthy sound starts to emit from somewhere within its frame. The APC Big Tits is riding on is no longer able to catch up to us and starts to very slowly fall behind. Big Tits''s swings of her spirit sword grow wilder and more desperate as I keep her busy with the cocktails I have left on hand. Soon, the SOPO station looms ahead of us and The Voice readies the dozer blade once more for an attack run. Big Tits surges her core and I fling yet another cocktail at her. But this time instead of firing off one of her shock waves, she takes a flying leap then sends her soaring over the Corrie. The cocktail hits the APC, setting it on fire, just as Big Tits lands in front of the rampaging bulldozer with both arms outstretched and her body surging with spirit power. The Voice does not bother braking for Big Tits and the Corrie continues its headlong charge. With a single step, Big Tits throws her entire weight at the mechanical beast, causing the Corrie to buck upwards at this obstruction. The Corrie''s turbine howls angrily but to my amazement, the bulldozer''s progress is completely stopped by Big Tits who is straining against the dozer blade. Big Tits surges her core again and the pressure forces me back to the floor of the cabin as I feel the Corrie being lifted from the ground. No way. No way. Isn''t this way too overpowered? "Transmigrator, do something." The Voice rumbles with barely concealed concern. All of a sudden, I am pitched forward and the world goes upside down from Big Tits suplexing the bulldozer. I manage to activate the core just before I am buried under the metal hulk, saving me from injury. Just as I am wondering how in the world Big Tits managed that feat, I hear a tearing noise as Big Tits rips the bulldozer apart to get at me. She grabs me by the trench coat and drags me out into the daylight. "Its over." Big Tits says, "You are under arrest on suspicion of -." My leg snaps up at a right angle and kicks Big Tits in the head before she can continue with her canned speech, forcing her to release me as she staggers backwards. I get back up to my feet and both of us regard each other. Big Tits summons her spirit sword threatening, "Preventing an officer of the law from performing her duties. Give in now before things get harder for you." I draw the stun baton from under the trench coat and extend it to full length with a pumping motion. "I like it hard." Police Brutality Big Tits''s spirit sword swings low towards my legs and I easily jump over the attack. She follows up with an overhead chop which I sidestep. Carefully watching the spirit sword''s blade, my left hand lashes out with the stun baton before Big Tits can withdraw her arms. The baton delivers a solid blow against one of Big Tits''s elbows, and her concentration suffers a momentary lapse as she shakes off the burst of debilitating magic fired into her body. Big Tits drops her arms for that tiny moment, leaving herself wide open to attack. My instincts take over and guides the baton unerringly towards the head of Big Tits. I pump as much power from the artificial core into my left arm as I safely can and I am rewarded with the stun baton striking Big Tits in the head with a resounding crack. Big Tits''s eyes go blank from receiving the blow and her spirit sword dissipates harmlessly into the ether. She staggers drunkenly backwards, struggling to keep the lights in her head turned on. I draw my left arm back, ready to drop Big Tits with my next attack. Under the guidance of the powers, my left arm blurs towards Big Tits once more and this time the baton meets with her jaw. Blood flies from Big Tits''s mouth, but to my surprise, I feel the baton begin to give way from the impact. The force of the blow causes the baton to splinter and I am left holding what is left of the baton''s handle. And Big Tits is still standing after what should have been my finisher. She nurses her bloody lips as her eyes slowly regain focus and lock on to me. Wasting no time, I discard the destroyed baton and drive my fist in a straight hook towards Big Tits. Big Tits manages to abruptly jerk to one side, throwing my aim off and causing my fist to sink into one of her mammoth breasts. The incredible bounciness of the breast pushes back against my fist and I find my attack deflected. Just as I am trying to regain my balance, Big Tits grabs my outstretched arm and pulls me towards her. Her other hand seizes the trench coat and she lifts me over her head, sending me flying away from the SOPO station with an overhead throw. I perform a roll as I hit the ground hard, breaking my fall as far as possible. As I get back to my feet, I am met with the sight of Big Tits plunging down towards me with her spirit sword raised high. I barely manage to dive to the side just as the sword comes down, releasing a blast of energy which rips a long furrow into the ground where I had been standing. Desperately looking for any weapon that I can use, I seize a damaged metal rebar lying on the ground, no doubt knocked loose from a building by the Corrie''s earlier rampage. I charge forwards and swing the rebar at Big Tits. She counters with a slash from her blazing sword, which easily slices the rebar into two. A bolt of pain lances through my entire body as Big Tits swings her sword into my midriff. The blade strikes and with a loud bang, shatters against my indestructible body, causing the sword to dissipate again. As the buzzing in my head begins to creep up on me once more, my hand clamps on to Big Tits''s face and I savagely push downwards, sending Big Tits head first into the ground. A spiderweb of cracks bloom where Big Tits''s head makes landfall and her struggling slackens the barest amount. This isn''t going to be enough though. From what I have observed so far, Big Tits is absurdly strong and tough. I am going to have to bring out the big guns against her. I close my eyes and recall how Gallant''s sister moved her spirit that night she confronted me. Damavand, the force that can subdue a dragon. I don''t believe that Big Tits is stronger than a dragon. As I channel Damavand, the pressure exerted against Big Tits increases exponentially. The ground begins to sag and Big Tits flares her spirit in an attempt to resist. She grabs at my wrist and battles mightily against my spell, all the while trying in vain to pry my hand off her face. I could crush Big Tits in an instant with the infinite power of the artificial core, but I slowly ramp up the core output instead, keeping just slightly ahead of the amount of power Big Tits is unleashing. The buzzing in my head is still present, but since I am not experiencing the rush of euphoria that comes with freely using the core, I retain enough of my senses to stay in control of the body. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Big Tits continues to sink into the ground as the pressure against her body grows and grows. Her core blazes with defiance, but I can tell that she is tiring. Big Tits will not be able to keep this up much longer. I can win this. I am going to win this. "Irene! Let go off her!" Someone shouts and I am suddenly thrown backwards, the distraction disrupting my casting of Damavand. As I roll across the ground from the sneak attack, eventually coming to rest on my back, a figure straddles me and claws rip through the helmet I am wearing. In panic, I draw freely from the artificial core and my strength surges. I easily throw off whomever is attacking me and remove the trashed helmet. As my attacker picks himself up, I bring the helmet down as hard as I can into his back, sending that guy back down on to his knees. A vicious kick sends my attacker tumbling into Big Tits like a bowling ball. Big Tits catches my attacker handily and steadies him with a look of concern. "Tensei!" she exclaims, "I told you not to do anything stupid. Get away from here." Shit. I just laid hands on the Hero. The realization pours cold water on the building euphoria and I am shaken back to my senses. What was it that The Voice had said about borrowed knives? "I can help." Tensei says, "Please, let me help. You don''t have to fight alone." Taking a quick look about, I realize that the riot has caught up with us. The two rival camps have surrounded the three of us, forming a rough arena for the boss fight to take place. Everyone''s eyes are on us. Delinquent stands together with Matsui, rubbing a swollen cheek, while Matsui himself looks at me impassively. Both sides have been badly hurt and look fairly evenly matched, the Matsuis have numbers on their side, while SOPO has better training and equipment. My fight with Big Tits is probably something symbolic for all the combatants present. Both Big Tits and myself have taken on the role of champions and a loss by either of us would result in our side routing from the field. Except that Big Tits has help from the bloody Hero. No pressure. "Tensei, I can''t ask this of you." Big Tits responds with tears in her eyes, "I am your teacher. You should not need to protect me." Shit. Shit. Shit. I know this scene. The Hero is going to swoop in to save the warrior maiden in distress. I have to stop this scene from playing to completion right now. Mind blast. Have faith in your mentor. Believe in the one who believes in you. The Hero''s eyes dilate as he receives my mental command. He nods slowly and agrees with Big Tits, "You''re right Irene. I believe in you. I believe that you can do it." "Thank you." Big Tits smiles and kisses the Hero on the forehead. I roll my eyes at the sight as the Hero steps back into the crowd to spectate. "You done? We fighting or what?" I challenge. Big Tits squares her shoulders and replies, "Gallant. I should have known. Do you actually think you can get away with this?" I point to the helicopter hovering high in the sky above us. Big Tits looks at the helicopter and back at me questioningly. "That helicopter is streaming this entire riot live, courtesy of Commander Hernandez." I explain, "Everyone is going to see me smash this joint, and everyone is going to see SOPO fail at doing their jobs. And yes, everyone is going to see me getting away with it as well." "Dream on." Big Tits snaps as she summons her spirit sword. I flex my left arm and taunt with a confidence I don''t feel, "I''ve already caused several million nu-credits worth of damage to this place. Everyone has seen me kicking your ass until a schoolboy came to your rescue. ORPO is waiting in the wings to finish you sorry lot off. Dreams can come true you know?" "So you are working for ORPO." Big Tits snarls. "Bingo." I affirm, "Guess how long I''ll be held in their custody for what happened today?" "Not if I arrest you first." Big Tits shoots back. "Really?" I raise an eyebrow, "You''ve not been doing a very good job of it so far." "Why are you doing this?" Big Tits asks, "Why are you working with that rat Hernandez?" I shrug, "For benefits of course. Why else?" "Enough talk!" Big Tits shouts, completely enraged, as she charges at me, sword ablaze. Indeed. The time for words is over. Hernandez better show up soon though. The Jaws of Disaster With a command to the artificial core, I up my speed and reflexes another notch and perform a flawless dodge from another of Big Tits''s attacks. Before Big Tits can strike again, my foot lashes out and connects with her gut with thunderous force, sending her skidding backwards. A trickle of blood drips from Big Tits''s mouth as she regains her footing by wedging her spirit sword into the ground, the blade serving as both a makeshift brake and crutch. Big Tits flares her spirituality and the sword swung upwards vigorously, releasing another one of those shock waves. This time however, not only am I wise to Big Tits''s move set, my reflexes by now exceed hers by a generous margin. With a graceful leap, I pirouette over the incoming blast and land a spinning elbow on Big Tits''s face. Its not enough to down her, but she is going to be suffering from fat lip for quite a while thanks to that blow. All things considered, fighting Big Tits isn''t really as difficult as I had originally feared. She''s strong and tough, but after the first couple of exchanges against her, I quickly realized that she lacks any means of exotic attack or other unusual abilities. Big Tits at her core, is a tank. An incredibly high leveled tank to be sure, but ultimately that was all she was. Her game plan revolved around dishing out raw physical damage and resisting counterattacks with her absurdly prodigious toughness. There were no tricks, no super secret hidden techniques that she would pull out of her ass to turn the tables on me. The only thing she has been doing is pumping more magic into her spirit sword and buffing herself physically. That was not to say Big Tits is weak. Against almost any other opponent, Big Tits would be a truly fearsome opponent. Her strength and toughness meant that she could both dish it out and take it in return. Big Tits was the equivalent of an overpowered starter character some games supply the player with for the first few stages. No advanced skills, but ridiculously high stats that allowed such a character to crush enemies with brute force alone. Come to think about it, isn''t being the opening chapter crutch basically Big Tits''s role in the greater scheme of things? Someone who is impressively strong, yet not powerful enough to steal the Hero''s future thunder. Just as I am idly musing on the mysteries of the universe, Big Tits''s sword comes close to clipping me as I perform a sloppy, distracted dodge. Damn, can''t afford to get careless here. I swiftly retaliate with a quick jab which misses, but nevertheless forces Big Tits to retreat. Big Tits''s problem now is that she is playing a game that The Voice had effectively rigged. In terms of raw stats, mine can be raised to the power of infinity as long as I kept the stress building up under control. My body is impervious to physical damage. I can score critical hits with far more reliability than Big Tits as well. I am both the better tank and damage dealer. Its only a matter of time before I wear Big Tits down and finish this fight. And Big Tits knows it. There is a look of worry and desperation emerging on her face. Sweat soaks her silly dirt stained uniform through and her hair flows down her shoulders in long tresses, the original neat bun undone when I grabbed her by the head for yet another throw. Big Tits had originally hoped that her stamina would allow her to outlast me, but I am never going to tire. In fact, I get faster and stronger the longer this fight drags on. Her strategy was doomed from the start. "Transmigrator." The Voice cuts in, "Fate has created a divergence point in the middle of this scenario. Be cautious." "What''s this divergence point supposed to do?" I whisper urgently while wiping my face with the sleeve of the trench coat. Wouldn''t want people seeing me talking to myself in the middle of a fight. The last thing I need is to be regarded as cray cray. "Its odd." The Voice rumbles, clearly confused, "The divergence point has no relevance to this scenario itself. What it does is that once an unknown condition is met, the Hero will abandon his quest for the von Amsterg territory. Before you ask, your success or failure in this mission does not seem to be the trigger for the divergence point. Stay alert." Shit. Its one of Fate''s bogus choices dangled in front of the Hero. Except now Fate has gotten better at hiding the flags that need to be tripped. Needless to say, I am skirting very close to a bad end here. The real threat in front of me is not Big Tits. Its the metaphorical bomb Fate has buried under my feet. If the episode at the von Amsterg manor taught me anything, allowing matters to drift to their natural conclusion would inevitably trigger the divergence point. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. So should I complete the mission, or flee right now? Which is the opposite of this scenario''s natural conclusion? My mind races, trying to make sense of the puzzle before me as I duck under another of Big Tits''s swings. Then I remember that fleeing is simply unacceptable as long as The Voice and I are on the death route. We need the instability to wreck the dead end we are being forced towards. That means this mission has to be completed, no matter what. The Voice and myself simply cannot afford failure. I need to seek out the flag that Fate has hidden and break it. But where could it be? What could it be? I knee Big Tits in the stomach and follow up with a hard chop which contains all my frustration, sending her flying backwards. In front of me is the death route. At my back is this trap Fate has laid for me. The candle of my life is literally being burned away at both ends. Don''t blame me for getting all tense and uptight. "When is Hernandez getting here?" I hiss quietly while Big Tits gets back to her feet. The Voice rasps, "The Commander is leading a large ORPO force towards Phase One. His men have also managed to gather an enormous crowd of homeless to join in on the fun. Unfortunately, a nasty traffic accident has caused an intractable snarl on the roads, severely slowing down the Commander''s progress. The Commander is moving as fast as he is able, but he will not reach Phase One anytime soon." So that means that Hernandez reaching Phase One is my win condition. That has to be it if Fate is actively delaying his arrival. By the process of elimination, I can safely conclude that the flag I need to look out for is something that will happen before Hernandez gets here. As Big Tits charges impotently at me again, I knock her backwards with a backhand, sending blood flying into the air. With a bit of breathing room, I cast my eyes about, hoping to spot some kind of clue that will point me in the right direction. The Hero is sandwiched between Delinquent and Matsui, cheering for Big Tits loudly. Delinquent looks thoroughly conflicted with what is going on while Matsui himself just keeps looking at me with that slightly disapproving expression of his. The other men gathered around the impromptu arena occasionally shout encouragement or jeers at both Big Tits and myself. The site itself has nothing unusual about it, just rubble and dust. I dart forwards and land another series of blows into Big Tits''s torso. Her spiritual nimbus begins to waver as she staggers backwards but nevertheless manages to retain its cohesion. She performs a weak slash at me which misses by a mile. Big Tits is tiring, she can''t keep up with me for much longer. Its rather embarrassing frankly, that the Hero would have such a disappointing mentor. Shouldn''t the Hero''s mentor be some kind of powerful ancient master or something? Isn''t that how things are supposed to work in these kinds of settings? Hold up. The Hero does have an ancient master, or the closest thing to someone like that. Chance. She''s a direct descendant of a legendary master. She knows a unique one of a kind technique. She taught the Hero the fundamentals of his magic style. She even has ''Master'' as one of her titles. By all reasoning, the Hero should be training under Chance, not Big Tits. Then why isn''t Chance the Hero''s mentor now? Because I wrecked Chance''s shit back at the lab. That allowed Big Tits to step into the void and assume a role that was never meant to be hers. Then I survived the encounter with Gallant''s sister, causing his old man to demand that the family go all out in bringing me back to Neo-Cardiff. Chance works for Gallant''s family, so they would have ordered her to concentrate on preparing for the final battle against me, rather than fraternizing with the Hero. The pieces click into place and my mind''s eye opens. Big Tits is the Hero''s mentor because of the instability that I caused. Nothing else. She is the only line of defense the Hero has against Chance''s influence. She is what keeps an Incarnate at arm''s length from the Hero. Despite all appearances to the contrary, Big Tits is my ally in The Voice''s grand design. The Voice was right about a borrowed knife being Fate''s chosen tool in this scenario. But the borrowed knife is not the Hero as The Voice suspected. Its me. I''m being set up by Fate to remove The Voice''s pieces from the board. Killing Big Tits would enrage the Hero and with Chance egging him on, he would likely engage in a bloody vendetta against me. Badly injuring Big Tits would force her to bow out from the stage, allowing Chance to resign from Siobahn''s employment and take the place of the Hero''s mentor. Since the Hero has no real interest in his inheritance, it is likely that Chance in either scenario could talk him into throwing the contest out of some high minded ideal. Its the exact type of garbage someone as one dimensional as the Hero would eat up without a second thought. Subverting expectations. Wasn''t that what The Voice said was our main weapon? It looks like Fate has learnt the same lesson as well. I now know what the flag Fate planted actually is. I also know what will trigger it. Now all I need to do is break it. Stoking The Flames So how to break the flag that Fate had set up? My first thought is to just keep defending against Big Tits''s attacks until Hernandez finally makes his entrance. I can''t hurt Big Tits if I don''t attack her in the first place. On closer examination though, that idea simply wouldn''t work. The Voice had told me that Hernandez would take a while to get here. Dodging Big Tits the entire time would put her ineptitude on display for everyone to see and simply discredit her as the Hero''s master. Then there is the other problem I am facing. My mission is not yet complete. Putting on that farce with Big Tits guarantees that I fail the mission and lose out on all that sweet instability. So I need a way to both complete the mission and not hurt Big Tits too badly. Annoying, since Big Tits even now is still trying to run me through with that sword of hers. Looking at how her spiritual nimbus is flickering like crazy, Big Tits is unlikely to be able to take much more punishment from me. I am going to need to move very carefully from this point onwards. Quickly backing up, I reach into the trench coat and draw a flash bang round from the bandoleer. With an exaggerated flourish, I fling the flash bang round at Big Tits''s feet, where it rolls into the dirt. Big Tits hurriedly jumps away and raises her sword in a guard stance, but absolutely nothing happens. The flash bang round just lies there completely inert. I feel the stares from everyone around me and can''t help but feel that I have let my side down. I loudly announce, "That was meant to explode by the way." The Voice responds, "It was? Apologies Transmigrator." With that said, the flash bang erupts in a blaze of light and sound, stunning everyone around me. I take the opportunity to break out of the enclosure formed for the purpose of this boss fight and race towards the overturned bulldozer. If there are no ready solutions for my problem, I need to act outside of the box, or in this case outside of the arena. The Voice rasps, "Where are you going? My readings from the Crossroads indicate that defeating Inspector Scott will complete the mission." "Its a trap." I reply, "I suspect that the trigger for the divergence point is Big Tits herself. Fate wants us to defeat her. Are the molotovs still available?" The Voice rumbles as I reach the bulldozer, "Yes, I managed to save the molotovs. What do you plan on doing with them though?" I reach into the wreckage of the Corrie and pull out the sling bag with the remaining cocktails rattling merrily about inside. Securing the bag on my shoulder, I continue my head long dash towards the SOPO station. "The station is the key to all this." I explain, "Once everyone sees it being demolished, no one will have any faith in the URI being a viable project. That makes the station our ticket to completing the mission safely." "The molotovs will not be enough to destroy the station." The Voice objects, "Also, Inspector Scott has recovered and is in pursuit of you." I click my tongue and discreetly drop another flash bang round on the ground as I am running towards the SOPO station. I hear the sound of battle rising from where the two sides had originally ringed us in. Looks like once both Big Tits and I made ourselves scarce, everyone else started going at each other again. "The City has a winter season, that means all large buildings have centralized heating. Just like the Academy" I say, "Guess what such buildings use to generate heat?" The Voice muses as I hear the flash bang go off and Big Tits curse in surprise, "Gas fired boilers. Its the most economical way to generate heat on a large scale. Not a bad plan Transmigrator, but an explosion in the boiler room will still not do enough damage to the station."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. The Voice continues as I kick open the main door of the station and storm inside, "You will need to knock down a number of weight bearing structures before sabotaging the boiler room. See the big pillar in front of you? Destroy that and head further inside. I will guide you along the way." I nod and make my way to the pillar in the reception area that The Voice had indicated. Focusing the core, I deliver a series of kicks and punches on the pillar, wrecking it in no time flat. "Good." The Voice congratulates, "You also need to destroy a wall located close to the staff washroom. Head through the door at the end of reception and keep to your left. You will eventually pass a wall covered with a SOPO pennant. Destroy it." I advance further into the station and enter what looks like a bog standard cubicle farm. No one''s in sight, meaning that everyone is probably taking part in the scrum outside. Good, one less problem to worry about. This place is so new that there is still that fresh paint smell hanging over everything. The furniture is just the regular stuff you can find in any office, but some of the furniture still has the protective plastic on. Just ordered from the warehouse? Too bad this place is not going to see much use if I have my way. I finally manage to reach the wall The Voice had indicated and begin channeling Damavand. As I unleash the spell against the wall, causing it to shake, I unload with a single hard punch. The wall completely gives way and collapses into rubble. As I am about to move on, a sudden bolt of pain runs through my gut, causing me to double over briefly. The stress must be catching up with me. I don''t know how much more Gallant''s body can take, but I need to wrap things up quickly. "Now head to the basement." The Voice says, "Unfortunately, Inspector Scott has managed to catch up with you and has correctly guessed what the plan is. She has situated herself just outside the boiler room, waiting for your arrival." "No worries." I quip, "I expected something like this to happen. Tell me where I would need to go if I wanted to stand directly above the boiler room." I pause for a moment before asking, "Can you protect Big Tits from the explosion though? Something like what you did for me at the lab?" "Head back to reception and take the corridor to your left." The Voice informs, "Follow it all the way to the end. The place you are referring to is right at the foot of the staircase. As for Inspector Scott, I can limit her injuries to superficial burns, nothing that should seriously trouble her well being, other than her sense of vanity." Great. Time to get to work then. I make my way forward as guided by The Voice and at the prescribed location, slam my fist downwards against the floor causing cracks to form in a haphazard pattern. I then climb to the top of the staircase and gather my strength, before leaping down towards the cracks. As I close in on the damaged floor, my legs piston downwards powerfully, smashing a path through the concrete. The floor gives way with a rain of debris and I smoothly plunge through a rapidly widening gap. I land on my feet with a thump, and see a complicated network of pipes that snake around the room that I fell into. The pipes surround a large rectangular contraption with some of the pipes attached to various ports of the device. This is it, this must be the boiler. But where do I start? "The pipes painted in green." The Voice helpfully instructs, "Tearing them apart will allow the natural gas to escape. Then all you need to do is use the molotovs. Be quick though. The Hero has managed to break free from the melee outside of the station and is making his way here as well." Didn''t I mind blast the Hero into staying out of this? He must have suspected that Big Tits is in danger, causing his fundamental nature to override my mental command. All the more reason to make haste, I don''t want to contend with both the Hero and Big Tits together. This whole thing reeks of Big Tits becoming the heroic sacrifice mentor and dying in the Hero''s arms. That scene is going to lead to a bad end all the way. I rip open the green pipes and the pungent smell of gas fills the room. Now I just need to jump back up to the floor above, light the molotovs and bombs away, mission accomplished. Big Tits might get a few scars from the explosion, but hey, this just adds to her credibility as a hardcore fighter. No one would doubt her place as the Hero''s mentor after this little adventure. As I am about to leap back upstairs, Big Tits barges through the boiler room''s door and we come face to face with each other. Damn, she must have heard me breaking through the ceiling in order to get around her. Big Tits''s eyes widen in alarm as the pungent smell hits her and she notices the torn up pipes. "I won''t let you win!" Big Tits shouts fiercely and rushes towards me. Time to go. Senior and Junior Faster, I have to run faster. Irene had taken off after Gallant once we all managed to regain our sight and both of them have disappeared into the SOPO station. Normally I would not be worried about this, since Irene is really strong, but something Ken''s father said while she and Gallant were fighting really caught my attention. Ken''s father said that Gallant was just toying with Irene and could have finished her off whenever he wanted. The old man wrote the event off as Gallant being needlessly cruel, but I have a suspicion that its more than that. I think Gallant has plans for Irene and that was the reason why he suddenly broke away from the fight and fled into the station. He wanted to lure Irene away from the rest of us. I believe in Irene, I really do. But I think this is something she cannot deal with on her own. The memory of Gallant tearing apart Ken''s men at the Academy surfaces in my mind and I pick up the pace. Was that why Gallant wanted private time with Irene? So that he could let loose without anyone watching and interfering? I then recall the story of Gallant just shooting people in the street. Gallant at the very least is extraordinarily violent, holding back in a fight is something that is totally inconsistent with his MO. I swallow hard and enter through the busted main door of the station. I hope I''m not too late. The sound of fighting in the distance encourages me. Good, Gallant has not won yet. I still have time to make a difference. Irene is still doing her best. I cannot let her down after all she has done for me. When Master got herself badly hurt, Irene stepped up and continued my training. As my body guard, she did not need to do that. There was no reason for her to go so far to help me. I was nothing to her, we had no personal connection with each other. But Irene helped me anyway. Taught me, guided me, when there was no one else. I will probably never recognize her as my master, that role has already been taken, but my heart is not blind to all the effort and kindness Irene has lavished on me. I cannot repay Irene as her student, but I can protect her as a friend. I rush down a corridor and the sound of fighting gets louder. I stop at a bend in the corridor and cautiously peek around the corner. The sound of fighting is close, and my ears do not lie. Just around the bend is Irene swinging her sword at Gallant, carving out chunks of the wall as Gallant dodges out of the way. Irene looks exhausted but her eyes are bright with determination. Gallant on the other hand has a frustrated and annoyed expression on his face. He tears out a railing from the wall next to him and swings it at Irene in a wide arc. Irene easily shuffles backward, avoiding the makeshift club and counters with a powerful slash of her own, cleaving the railing into two. Gallant dives backwards, gripping the sling bag he has with him. I hear rattling coming from the bag. Gallant probably does not want whatever is inside the bag to be damaged from moving around too quickly. I didn''t see that bag on Gallant while he was fighting Irene outside the station. Is that the real reason why Gallant ran? He wants to do something in the station with whatever is inside the bag? I unconsciously breathe out a sigh of relief. I had been over imagining things. Irene may still be in danger, but its not as horrific as I had guessed. Gallant abruptly tilts his head to the side as if he is listening to something and nods to himself. He then adopts a silly pose, something you would see in a superhero cartoon, while reaching into that trench coat that makes him look like a pervert. I recognize this move from just now, Gallant is about to throw one of his flash bombs. Irene gets the same idea and quickly averts her eyes from whatever Gallant is doing. I get the hint as well and press myself against the wall with my eyes shut tight. Instead of the flash bomb''s explosion, I hear a solid thump and a groan rising from Irene. Gallant''s smug, obnoxious voice fills the corridor, "That''s just a bean bag by the way. Don''t know why you''re closing your eyes because of something like that."This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I hear Irene drawing in a deep breath as Gallant keeps talking, "Now this, this is a flash bang. Enjoy." An earsplitting noise tears through the corridor and my mind goes white. As the noise dies down, leaving a ringing behind in my ears, I peek around the wall again and see Irene stumbling blindly about. Gallant stands where he is, taunting her, "Its over. Time to wrap things up, eh?" No. Not if I have anything to say about it. I focus my spirit and flare my core. Claws grow from my hands and I sprint out from where I am hiding, straight towards Gallant''s back. And the wind is knocked right out of me as Gallant whirls about and punches me in the stomach. I am slammed against the wall and Gallant''s fist pins me there, leaving me unable to move. Black spots begin to form behind my eyes. "Didn''t you hear me Hero?" Gallant asks, "I said its over." He knew. He knew all along that I have been here. But Gallant''s wrong. Its not over. Not while I still breathe. My core burns and molten strength flows throughout my body. Its happening again, my core is strengthening on its own accord, allowing me to perform another breakthrough. I just need a moment to gather my newfound strength and - The sole of Gallant''s shoe drives into my face, forcing my entire head through the wall. Even though my strength keeps increasing, I can''t use it as my vision starts to blur. My thoughts become muddy as Gallant removes his foot from my face and I slump to the floor. Help. Someone, please help. "Amazing, I slapped Hero man about for just a bit and he''s already gotten stronger." Gallant comments as my consciousness fades. Laughing at the vanquished? You''re low. "Those enhancements you supplied the Hero with are really quite something." Gallant continues as he turns away from me, "His core output shot up just like that." What? What are you talking about? Are you saying you know something about my spirit core? I try to focus on Gallant but my mind remains painfully slow. The only thing I notice is an earpiece plugged into Gallant''s right ear. He''s not taunting me. Gallant is talking to someone else through the earpiece. Someone who knows about my condition. "Don''t start with that senpai bullying kouhai bullshit." Gallant complains as he walks away, "If anything, Hero man is the senpai here. He got his enhancements first, remember?" You know. You know about my condition, why my spirit core gets stronger without warning. And we have some kind of connection. Do we share the same problem? So come back. Tell me everything. I beg you. Please. Its useless though, no sound escapes from my lips, and darkness overtakes me. .... "Tensei, wake up." a voice urgently pulls me from my stupor. I groggily open my eyes and see Irene cradling me in her arms. She gently shakes me to get the cobwebs out of my eyes, but that kick from Gallant really messed me up good. I just can''t seem to focus. Irene frowns, "You can''t walk in this condition. Its alright, I''ll take things from here." Irene holds me in a princess carry and begins running down the corridor back towards the station''s entrance. I hear a loud explosion coming from somewhere beneath us and the entire building begins to shake. Irene grits her teeth and runs for all she is worth. Sunlight, I see sunlight. That means we are close to the building''s entrance. Irene takes a deep breath for the final sprint but part of the ceiling collapses, blocking our path. The corridor behind us erupts into flame, leaving us with no way to backtrack. Trapped. We are completely trapped. The building begins to shake again and masonry falls all around us. Irene kneels on the ground and holds me tight. "Its alright" she says, as she channels the last remnants of her magic, augmenting her physical resilience. She then embraces me fulsomely, covering every inch of my body with hers, as the flames edge closer. My head is pressed against her chest, and I smell the sweet scent of womanhood alongside the acrid stench of the fire. Stop this. I am not worth it. I want to scream and shake Irene back to her senses, but she just holds on to me tighter as the flames hungrily lap towards us. My hand blindly quests about looking for a tiny bit of reassurance. Irene grabs it and squeezes, and as our fingers and bodies interlock, the sky falls, ending everything. ... "Something happened that was not supposed to happen." The Voice rasps in alarm. "Uh, ok?" I say while dusting myself off. Soot just gets everywhere, I am going to need a shower later. "Does it generate instability at least?" I ask. "More than both Fate and myself can handle." The Voice sighs resignedly. What The Future Holds I finish dusting myself off in the side alley and head towards the black cab which is parked right at the opening to the main street. After I had blown the SOPO station at Phase One up, I elected to escape on my own immediately since The Voice had confirmed that the mission had been completed. I could talk to Hernandez later once I was back in the safety of the hideout. It was a good day overall, we had managed to reap a bounty of instability from the mission itself and bloody Fate''s nose at the same time by breaking that divergence point it had prepared. The only thing marring our victory was The Voice''s pronouncement that I had to hide in the cab''s boot again in order to evade the lock down and be smuggled back into Six Trees. Maybe this time I really should urinate in the boot just to teach The Voice a lesson. Give it some incentive to work out a better way for me to move about. "So what is this thing that was not supposed to happen?" I ask while squeezing myself into the boot. "The Hero and Inspector Scott are currently engaging in sexual intercourse." The Voice states in a worried tone. I bump my head painfully against the walls of the boot and curse. "Say again?" I grumble. The Voice reiterates, "The Hero and ''Big Tits'', as you call her, are having sex right now." Uh. I don''t really know how to respond to that. Though just thinking about it gets me a little pissed off. I risk my life and receive the privilege of stuffing myself in the boot of a cab. The Hero gets kicked in the face and receives a round of sexy time. I should have kicked that little shit harder. "They are having sex, in a burning building, while buried under a mound of rubble." I query, "Are they for real?" The Voice rasps, "Most certainly. They are currently on their fifth round of intercourse. This is troubling to say the least." Troubling? Oh, its troubling alright. Big Tits had her face thoroughly smashed in by me and she''s still able to do the dirty five times? She''s got insane stamina to say the least. Sour grapes aside, I don''t really see what''s the big deal about this whole thing. The Hero sticking it into Big Tits would mean that her position as the Hero''s mentor is secure. Chance''s, chances, to worm her way back as the Hero''s mentor are just about nil. Turning the matter over in my mind while I try to close the boot, I really can''t see any downside from this liaison. Its natural for the Hero to have many women, and this affair keeps an Incarnate away from him. Big Tits is effectively serving as a sub-heroine, someone with no route of her own, but still eminently available for, uh, release. "I don''t see the problem." I reply while struggling with the boot, "Big Tits is welcome to join the big happy harem. The operative word being ''harem''. Why can''t this bloody thing close by the way?" "The trench coat is getting in the way. Tuck it inwards." The Voice explains, "Also, I get the impression you are selling Inspector Scott dangerously short." Oh. That''s right. I quickly pull the trench coat in and the boot shuts without any further problem. I feel the gentle movement of the cab setting off as the hot, sweaty darkness envelopes me. "How so?" I say while trying to get comfortable, "The Hero is still on track for the harem end isn''t he? Big Tits going down on the Hero is not inconsistent with that. Besides, the Heroines are way hotter. Between them and Big Tits, its really no contest. My guess is that the Hero will end up using Big Tits as a side piece." "Ah." The Voice rumbles, "The sub-heroine. A common sight in your world''s pornography." "There you go." I confirm, "That''s exactly what Big Tits is. So there is nothing to worry about." The Voice rasps disapprovingly, "Wrong. You underestimate Inspector Scott, Transmigrator. While she may not be able to match the beauty of the Heroines, Inspector Scott is by any measure an attractive woman. More importantly, her cunning and feminine charm have been honed through experience. That makes her more than a match for the Heroines. The Hero is inexperienced in love, and is weak to the kind of emotional appeals Inspector Scott can muster, especially after a bond has been formed between them through sex."This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "Furthermore," The Voice continues after taking a breath, "Inspector Scott will not be satisfied being just a member of a harem. Remember that Inspector Scott has more in terms of social prestige and accomplishments than all the Heroines combined. She is certainly capable of sidelining the Heroines if given the chance." I tut and rebut, "You''re looking at it from the wrong angle. After doing the hot and heavy with the Hero, would you say that Big Tits is committed to the Hero''s success?" "Yes." The Voice confirms. I grin and continue my argument, "And once the Hero succeeds, he''s going to be prince of Europe. A cop can''t hold a candle to that. If the Hero wants a harem, he''s going to get it, no matter what Big Tits says. The Hero and the Heroines are hardwired to physically desire one another right?" "That is correct." The Voice muses. "So its only a matter of time before the Hero decides to expand his horizons, so to speak." I assert, "All we need to do is make sure the Hero stays in regular contact with the Heroines and Fate does not mess up his progress. Nature will deal with the rest. When the time comes, Big Tits will have to settle for being a concubine or minor consort or whatever and like it. The end." "In fact," I press on as an idea comes to me, "If Big Tits births a kid for the Hero, wouldn''t it be beneficial for your plan? More claimants for the throne means more chaos, right?" The Voice is silent for awhile, turning the idea over in its head. It finally responds, "There is still a problem though, that being the termination of the Hero. Inspector Scott introduces a variable that I cannot control. You saw how committed she is to the Hero''s safety today. Her presence would inevitably make Heroine Majima''s mission much harder." "Would you rather Chance get close to the Hero instead?" I challenge, "Because that is what''s waiting in the wings if we get rid of Big Tits. Can you trust the Hero not to stick his little brother into Chance?" "Unfortunately no." The Voice sighs, "The Hero was constructed to be irresistible to women and to ultimately impregnate them. A nascent romantic relationship was already forming between the Hero and Master Chance before you even entered into the picture. Thanks to the injuries Master Chance suffered at your hands, she has been unable to pursue this relationship any further." "So really, you lucked out here." I say while squirming about in an attempt to scratch my back, "Big Tits is pretty much the lesser of the two evils." "Mhm. If you say so." The Voice concedes unhappily, "Nevertheless, I fear that Inspector Scott''s presence will cause unforeseen complications in the future. Its similar to how the brick you threw at the Squat was the ultimate cause of this current scenario. Inspector Scott brings with her a huge amount of instability. While she will undoubtedly speed the destruction of the death route we are on, the real problems regarding her will only surface much later. Perhaps even affecting the harem route the Hero needs to walk to completion." "Then enjoy the benefits while you can." I suggest, "Its not as if either Fate or you can control the future right? Big Tits will usher in whatever future that will be. Que sera, as they say." "What will be, will be." The Voice mumbles, "I dislike that sentiment. It is an admission that our destiny is beyond our control." "Its true though." I shoot back, "Look at the locals, you think they are in control of anything? You and Fate have got fingers in every pie." "An oversimplification." The Voice denies, "The locals control their lives on a day to day basis. Most of their decisions are made based on their own free will. My influence may be pervasive, but it is distant. You could go an entire lifetime without ever interacting with me." "What about the guys who lost their money in the URI thanks to today''s rampage?" I query, "Isn''t that something beyond their control?" The Voice remains silent, considering my words. "Fate messing with you is also something beyond your control." I say, "Our entire plan revolves around generating instability, causing destiny itself to spiral out of control. You still want to deny the sentiment?" "You are oddly philosophical today." The Voice finally responds. I shrug, "I''m in a good mood." "A man of letters indeed." The Voice rumbles, "Then why do you act the way you do? When I researched your background, I imagined someone more urbane." An uncomfortable feeling creeps over my heart as I reply, "Life happened." The Voice presses on, "You are not a stupid man, Transmigrator. Our time together has proved that. Why play the fool? Someone brought up in your environment would not talk as crassly as you do." "People change." I say vaguely, "You''re telling me that there was never any change in your life?" "No, Transmigrator." The Voice responds, "Change is inevitable, and I have experienced the kind of change that you could never even imagine." "Just remember this," The Voice concludes, "Change is not an excuse to run away." An Unexpected Guest The pub''s television blares a music video starring the Idol as I look out of the window nursing a beer. In the not so far distance, Ascension Tower stands all lighted up against the night sky, casting its dramatic, phallic shadow over the rest of The City. Tonight however, drones buzz around the pinnacle of the tower like flies, carrying containers. A simple landing has been built near the top of Ascension Tower for the drones to unload their cargo. Scaffolding overlays the upper floors of the tower as well, with workers crawling all over the place like ants. From the distance, I can see the sparks fly as the welders do their work, expanding the building. "Working through the night." I observe, "The Host must be eager to get this new extension to the tower done." The Voice rasps, "Those workers are preparing to install the mechanisms and electronics needed to activate the codex. Fate knows that with each day that passes, we draw closer to slipping from the noose. It has upped its schedule accordingly." "Who''s the lackey this time?" I ask, "I don''t think that the work orders being sent out to the contractors have Fate''s signature on them." "Representative Michael." The Voice rumbles, "The same one who was going on and on about the three worlds uniting. We can safely assume that Fate has entrusted all matters concerning the codex to him." "That''s a pretty big shot Fate has got in her pocket." I grunt. The Voice replies, "Which explains why Fate has got SOPO as her running dogs. The discrepancy in the sarcophagus''s schematics that foiled us previously might also be due to his meddling. Not that it matters now." "Hey, I got a question regarding the codex. Mind answering?" I query. "Ask." The Voice rasps distractedly, clearly still concentrating on the construction work going on at Ascension Tower. "The codex came from some ancient civilization right?" I say, "How is it compatible with modern technology? I can''t even change my PC''s processor without throwing the entire motherboard out." The Voice grunts, "Do you remember the systems regulation unit that we retrieved at the sarcophagus?" "That pile of junk?" I raise an eyebrow, "It was trashed in the warehouse explosion if I remember correctly." "Correct." The Voice elaborates, "The systems regulation unit and the codex are a pair. With both in its possession, all Fate would have needed to do would be to hook up a monitor and keyboard to the SRU to acquire full access to all the codex''s functions. The artificial ley lines laid across the URI would supply the codex with sufficient power to activate. Troublesome, but far from impossible." "But the systems regulator thingy was damaged and is in our hands now." I point out. "Which is why all this construction is going on." The Voice answers, "Representative Michael has placed an order for several supercomputers to serve as a replacement for the SRU. That is the reason for the tower''s expansion and renovation. Once the construction works are done, the supercomputers will be delivered and installed. Even so, Fate will be unable to fully control the codex with this setup. That is the reason why it cannot selectively only remove the dimensional barriers that protect myself." "What about the ley lines then? We stopped the URI, didn''t we?" I say while frowning. "The ley lines already laid are not going anywhere else soon." The Voice rumbles, "While the power they supply is inadequate, making good on the deficit is something that is again inconvenient and not impossible. At the worst, Fate can simply burn an enormous amount of pyroil or spirit crystal to get the energy yield needed to run the codex." I feel a headache coming on as I reply, "Sounds like we did not do all that much damage after all." "It only seems that way because we are on the death route, Transmigrator." The Voice consoles, "Fate will naturally do all it can to limit the damage caused by us. Nevertheless, the impact of the instability we have caused is already being felt. The activation of the codex has been badly delayed and Fate has been put to enormous expense in trying to restore its position. We must keep pressing forward. After all, death by a thousand cuts is certainly a thing."This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. I down the last of my beer and signal the waiter to bring me a fresh pint. One foot after the other. That''s the most either The Voice or yours truly can do at the moment. Should I order food as well? Yeah, lets eat. It beats those shitty sandwiches waiting at the hideout. As I wait for my order to arrive, I watch the music video playing on the TV with a morbid kind of fascination. I could never hear what the Idol was actually singing about whenever I was subjected to her spirit field. Everything she said was translated into a form of deranged shrieking. The difference now is that since I am watching a recording, I can actually understand what she is saying. - Kiss Kiss Fall In Love - Well it sounds like fairly normal teeny bop pop at least. Nothing too weird. - When you saw me from the corner of your eye, a minute later I became pregnant - Uh. A bit suggestive but OK, kids grow up quickly these days. The Idol may be trying to market to an older crowd anyway. That''s what most idols do, if what I read about the industry is correct. - You injected fresh life into me, all over me - I cough awkwardly. Is there a ratings board in this world? Why don''t you just scream ''Sex, sex, sex'' at the top of your voice Idol? It would be more direct. - and its mine all mine, now and forever more! - "Is she singing about murder or castration?" I ask The Voice. Someone''s projecting hard. As hard as she wants the Hero''s hardness inside her. The Voice responds with a metaphorical shrug as my order arrives, "Why not both?" ... I hear a ringing sound come from the trench coat while I chew on the fried chicken I had ordered. It tastes good, notwithstanding the fact that the waiter who brought it to me was a hawk man. A bird serving up another bird as a meal. Mother nature really shows no mercy in this world. I fish out the mobile Hernandez gave me and accept the call, "Yeah, hello." "Smart ass." The familiar hoarse voice barks in my ear, "Was looking forward to seeing you at the station today after you put on such a show. Then my men tell me you''re eating fried chicken while I am here buried in paperwork." The Voice snorts, "The Commander is hiding in the black sedan parked just outside the pub." I waive at the black sedan and say, "Its good. Care to join me?" The line immediately goes dead and Hernandez dismounts from the sedan and heads into the pub. "Not in uniform today either? What happened to paperwork?" I ask as Hernandez takes a seat at my table. "I dropped my daughter off at the Six Trees EV Theater just now. That idol girl, whatshername, is having a mini concert there and my daughter kept bugging me to take her." Hernandez says while lighting up one of his cigars, "Decided to drop in to look you up since I had some time to spare." "You here to discuss how you''re going to help me then?" I quip. "Not so fast." Hernandez holds his hand up, "These things take time, especially the kind of help you want. I need to talk to people, set things up. I''ll let you know when I am done preparing." Just as I am about to protest, The Voice cuts in, "This is acceptable. The time is not right at any rate. More instability is needed before we initiate that confrontation." "Well, don''t take too long." I huff at Hernandez, "I''m working on a schedule here." "I''ll be ready when I''m ready." Hernandez waves my complaint off, "I came here to tell you that we''re releasing your buddy Alley." I just nod while tearing into a drumstick. Hernandez leans back in his chair and comments, "You don''t seem surprised." "What is there to be surprised about?" I ask, "Alley has no value to you locked up." Hernandez laughs harshly, "We could charge her with embezzlement of Academy funds. Show some gratitude." "What embezzlement?" I say with the most innocent tone I can manage. I know The Voice had cleaned up the evidence of Alley''s wrong doing. That threat means less than nothing to me. Hernandez just shrugs and accepts my rebuttal, "What embezzlement indeed. Well, you did your job at any rate. So, here''s a reward for you." Hernandez hands me a letter written under ORPO''s letterhead. Scrutinizing the letter, I realize that it is an official notice that ORPO has taken over investigation of all my crimes committed in The City and that I have been released from remand after questioning. There is an addendum and counter signature from a Delegate Ramakrishnan stating that the P5 as the final arbiter on all matters regarding The City authorizes ORPO as the investigative and arresting authority for any of the existing cases against me. "How in the world is this a reward?" I ask completely bewildered. "It means that only ORPO can arrest you." Hernandez smirks, "You can now walk freely around The City and SOPO can do absolutely jack shit. If they try, feel free to resist arrest, we can''t have police abusing their powers, can we?" "You got the P5 to sign off on this?" I ask for confirmation. Hernandez nabs a piece of fried chicken from my plate with a smile, "Some people still understand gratitude." "And how long will your investigation into me take?" I question while folding my arms. "If you stay on my good side," Hernandez says between mouthfuls of chicken, "Until the end of the world." Let''s hope it doesn''t come to that. Literally. The Immortal "Give it up for Kirarin!" the emcee shouts over the PA system. I fold my arms and lean against the wall backstage while waiting for the concert to be over. The staff milling about backstage quickly recognize who I am and give me a wide berth, all the while casting sly glances at me. Its annoying being a public figure, or rather a public figure that actually matters. Everyone knows who you are, but no one really wants to approach you, unless they want something. Or unless they want to kill you. I am taking a big risk, travelling to Six Trees with only a minimum escort, especially when it is public knowledge that he is based here. The Tyrant''s blackguard could come barging through the backstage entrance at any moment to take my life. From the records I have of the blackguard''s activities, I know that regular guards would just delay him, and I would inevitably have to face him down with the gifts provided by milady. Still I am not being completely foolish, since where Kira goes, Enma is close by. Between my old comrade and I, the blackguard would still be hard pressed. The risk of attack is minimal. Should be minimal. But then again, the blackguard has the habit of showing up like a bad penny. First the attack at the warehouse. Then the massacre at the cathedral. The raid on the Archmage''s laboratory. And now the assault on the Urban Redevelopment Initiative. One by one the pillars supporting milady''s design are being kicked away. If the blackguard''s pattern holds, the next target will likely be the Archmage himself. I need to warn that annoying man to take the proper precautions and not leave everything to the threads of milady. I always regretted making the Archmage a part of our plans, but it had become a matter of necessity. No one in any of the three worlds knew more about souls than he did, and that knowledge was crucial in passing the test of the All-Father once Salvation was reactivated. It was not that I did not know how to pass the test, that part was easy, but the real issue lay in the fact that none of milady''s faithful including myself had the qualifications to even begin the test. The Archmage was needed to prepare the proper credentials that Salvation would recognize. Unfortunately, the Archmage had not been guided to milady through faith or revelation. When he came to know of milady''s existence, it broke him. His worldview was twisted upside down and a void opened in his heart. The Archmage is unstable and dangerous, but I must keep him compliant until Salvation has been revived. Frustration builds in my heart at the conundrum that I have been forced into. All this problems should never have occurred. The worst part is, we brought on ourselves. We seized defeat from the jaws of victory all those years ago. ... Our quest was at an end. The three of us, comrades led by Milady, had stormed the Tyrant''s fortress and put his servants to flight. The self-proclaimed True Emperor lay bloody and beaten at our feet, and we had ordered that the monster be carried out from the castle and paraded before the common folk, so that they knew that the time of justice had arrived. The holy crusade was over, and all the sacrifices that we had made were not for nothing. It was a joyous day indeed, where the common folk lost their fear of the Tyrant and pelted its heaving bloodied bulk with stones as our footmen dragged it up to the execution square. From this day onwards, there would be no more sacrifices, no more demands from this monster. And it was a sweet sight when milady sliced the Tyrant''s tongue out, so that it could no longer dirty our ears with its threats of vengeance and retribution. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. I held the Tyrant''s head down while Enma readied the executioner''s ax. That was the moment that should have ended everything. When the three worlds should have finally received their freedom. But the Tyrant had one final trick up its sleeve, a grand deception, that would destroy everything we had fought for. Blood spurted from the stump of the Tyrant''s tongue as it screamed incoherently in rage at us. Before Enma could bring his ax down, a tidal wave of blood exploded from the Tyrant''s mouth sweeping the assembled crowd away. The earth trembled in the Tyrant''s death throes as its body began to tear apart. And for seven days and seven nights, the blood flowed and flowed and flowed. A crimson tide drowned all three worlds, and millions died in what we thought was the Tyrant''s final act of destruction. It was a cataclysm, the shock of which broke the barriers keeping the three worlds apart. When it was all over, the survivors of the three worlds gathered with us around what was left of the Tyrant''s carcass, fearful of whatever would come next. What we saw took our breath away. The Tyrant''s skeleton was composed entirely of valuable metals and its organs were fleshy bags filled with precious gems. It was more wealth than any of us had seen in our lives. Even milady, born into royalty, could only dream of possessing a fraction of such incredible wealth. We were all starving and close to death, our nations having being ruined in the Tyrant''s last gasp at revenge, but eating a mouthful of the Tyrant''s flesh restored us completely. The soil of the three worlds, now one, drank deeply on the Tyrant''s blood, and the land became rich and fertile. We were saved, and received our just reparations from the Tyrant. And the people rejoiced and proclaimed milady their goddess. The gold and silver from the Tyrant''s corpse were used to build a great city, a holy land, where milady would lead all the people as their immortal empress. The future was bright and held limitless promise. Then the horror started. Children, born dead in the womb. Food that would poison the most faithful of milady''s believers. And worst of all, the world began to split apart into three again. The Tyrant had never died. It had escaped and continued the war against us from the shadows. The hearts of the people turned from milady and their eyes only saw the riches that the Tyrant provided. Revolts and uprisings broke out throughout the holy kingdom. We could not fight an enemy that only existed in the shadows. Slowly but surely, the Tyrant''s grasp began to tighten over the three worlds once more. In the quiet moments of the night, I thought that I could hear the incoherent, mocking laughter of the Tyrant, coming from my supper, my furniture, my clothes. In desperation, milady led my companions and I back to the north, where Salvation lay, in the hope that a solution could be found. But there we received the heaviest blow yet. We had eaten the Tyrant''s flesh and drank its blood. Our bodies had been polluted to the extent where Salvation refused to acknowledge us as children of the All-Father. Only milady still retained the purity to be granted access and there a terrible bargain was struck. Salvation could not defeat the Tyrant outright, but it could allow milady to ascend to a new state of existence, where she could combat our old foe directly. But the price was that milady had to leave us, her friends, her companions, her lovers, forever. .... "Mike!" Kira''s happy greeting stirs me from my reverie. Seeing Kira''s youthful beauty makes me feel old. Its difficult, being an immortal soul anchored to a mortal body. Unlike the others, I can remember what the old times were like, I am burdened by the responsibility to remember. I can never tell my dearest friends who I really am. No one can ever know my true name. And I must bear the agony of dying, again and again and again. Each time reviving in one of my descendants, stealing their futures away. If the Council knew what immortality was really like, they would have not have agreed to the proposal I offered. I gaze enviously at Enma, who leans heavily on a walking stick from her injuries suffered at the hands of the blackguard. Every start is a fresh start with him. Or is it her now? She still views the world with enthusiasm and commitment to her code. Whereas I keep doing what I do because it is the only thing I know. I wonder where that serving boy is presently. It would be nice to have one final gathering with all of us here. But duty calls. The fight continues. "Kira." I say with a smile I don''t feel, "I''ve got good news for you." The Transmigrators Worries I toss about restlessly on the mattress trying to get some sleep. With all the lights turned off in the hideout and The Voice completely silent, my only companion is the utter darkness. Which makes for a pretty lousy companion, all things considered. I cannot not sleep because there is plenty on my mind, and I am not going to start talking to myself in the dark. There lies the way to madness. What is bothering me also could not be discussed with The Voice. Its something personal, and The Voice and I are far from friends. Our relationship is not close enough for me to open up like that. The only option left to me was to basically stew in my own thoughts. And I''ve been thinking really hard on the future. My future, if I manage to survive this whole adventure. Where I am supposed to go from here. Don''t get me wrong, I''m not being eaten up by some sense of guilt over what I have done so far in this dimension. I am not about to keel over wailing hysterically and getting all tortured emotionally over the fact that I killed a few people. I shudder while reflecting what a pathetic outcome that would be. There''s nothing worse than someone who did something and refuses to take ownership of it. As The Voice had explained several times before, anyone is free to do whatever they want, as long as they can bear the consequences for it. And its true. Not just in this dimension, but in my world as well. Think about it. Murder, the biggest taboo, plenty of people have gotten away with it. And when I mean ''gotten away with it'', I mean that everyone knows that these people have killed, yet they live openly and freely in society, leading fulfilling and productive lives. Don''t believe me? Take the greatest generation for instance. I don''t see what''s so great about them, though everyone treats them like they''re the best thing since sliced bread. I am willing to bet a sizable number of those old relics had shed blood. Yet those guys are honored and treated like VIPs. Before anyone objects to this comparison, on the ground that those old duffers killed for a good cause, lets look at another case. Communism. Everyone back home says it came from the devil, with all the death camps, labor camps, reeducation camps and what have you. Kill counts in the millions, as some people would say. What about the killers then? The last I checked, plenty of them lived perfectly happy and prosperous lives, dying peacefully in their sleep. What separated these two examples from all the other murderers in history who were brought low? Its simple, these guys were Winners, with a capital W. I will say it again. Winners. I no longer wanted to just survive. I wanted to become a winner. No, I needed to become a winner. And that''s the reason why I had my freak out a few nights back involving those club kids. This quest The Voice had sent me on was my best chance at securing a future for myself, and I am not going to let that opportunity slip out of my hands. That and the creeping fear of my actions finally catching up to me before I secure any guarantees regarding my safety from The Voice. Murder. Terrorism. Those are not small things to bear. If The Voice had been able to confirm that I could safely leave this place once our quest is done, I would have cared less about those charges. But until now, The Voice is no closer to separating me from Gallant''s soul. The only possibilities still open are a rare synchronicity event occurring or Hobo Beard''s research holding the answer. But possibilities don''t mean anything by themselves. The synchronicity event may never happen in my lifetime. Hobo Beard might not know anything useful. I don''t dare gamble on my world''s Administrator being an understanding sort. If termination is on the cards for bringing Gallant''s soul fragment back home with me, I may very well have to consider staying in this dimension for good. That was the reason why being a Winner, rather than just a survivor became so important. I may need the power and influence to ensure my safety from any would be avengers. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. At least The Voice offered to back my ascension as a king, if I stayed on after the whole thing was over. Such a position would be able to provide a suitable amount of protection and a comfortable living to boot. The only problem with that offer is time. While The Voice had not gone into any details, I had a fairly good guess as to how it intended to deliver on its promise. Since there was no empty land lying about for me to plant my proverbial flag, the only kingdom, or rather princedom, up for grabs would be the von Amsterg territory. I had no doubt that The Voice could arrange for me to take control over the Hero''s realm, but I had to wait for the dust to settle from the civil war between the Heroines before that happened. I would also have to wait until The Voice broke Fate''s metaphorical legs in their pissing match. And while I am doing all this waiting, the knives in the dark would be readied for me. Fate''s not the kind to be shy about assassinating nuisances or using its influence to ruin them. I would know, having plenty of first hand experience of how Fate operates. How long did I need to survive in this world before The Voice allows me to cash out with my big payday? Years? Decades? Knowing The Voice, it would conscript me into this extended conflict, holding my reward as a carrot to ensure my obedience. I would have no way of resisting such a request, since my future would hinge on clearing the Heroines and their brats out from my promised kingdom. I remember the promise The Voice had made, that I would be made king after Fate was defeated. Not after our quest was over. Those were two completely different things. The Voice had agreed not to give me a monkey''s paw reward, but it was already rules lawyering itself into a better position. That''s also not mentioning The Voice''s refusal to guarantee that I could receive a reward if I chose to leave. It had been deliberately using uncertainty to bait me into going for the kingdom. It was a good thing that I did not agree to anything then. The Voice was already thinking of ways to extend my contract of service so to speak. I need to be wary with what I discuss with it, not to show any weakness that it can take advantage of. Then there was Gallant. As long as I stayed here in this dimension, I would always be subject to him contesting control over this body. While I am the dominant soul now, I cannot be assured that this situation will last forever. During the confrontation with Siobahn, Gallant had proven that if he really wants something that''s against my wishes, I could not override him. At best the two of us would be locked in a fruitless conflict, while the body is paralyzed during the unending duel between us. As long as I stay in this world, I may one day be free of Fate, but I would never be free of Gallant. What a bloody headache all this is. I get up from the mattress and grope about blindly for the bottle of water. "A little to your left." The Voice rasps. Following the instruction, I hand closes in on the bottle and I take a few gulps from it. "You''re still awake." I note. The Voice answers, "The City does not sleep, and neither do I. Matters proceed apace no matter what time it is." "What matters?" I ask while lying back down on the mattress. "The relationship between the Hero and Inspector Scott for one." The Voice rumbles, "I hope we do not regret this in the future." "When you say relationship, do you mean..." I trail off meaningfully. "I mean sexual intercourse. Yes." The Voice confirms, "They are engaging in it presently." I grunt in acknowledgement at this piece of information. The Hero must be executing his programming to impregnate a woman. The time has almost come then. The contest for the von Amsterg territory is quickly approaching and we need the Heroines ready to give birth to prevent a clear heir from emerging. "Why isn''t the Hero getting frisky with the Heroines?" I ask, "He is clearly attempting to move to the next stage of the operation, knowingly or not." "There is no rush." The Voice replies, "There will be time enough for that once the Hero succeeds in the contest." "Unless something happens to the Hero in between." I point out, "Wouldn''t it be safer to have the Heroines impregnated before the actual fight against Nicky? Fate is not going to magically disappear once Nicky is beaten." "A good point." The Voice says after pondering for a moment, "I will send a transmission to the Heroines, increasing their libido accordingly. Now that the Hero is sexually active, he should be open to propositions from the Heroines, barring Fate''s interference." I nod in satisfaction. We need to lock the Hero into the harem route before he decides on a monogamous relationship with Big Tits. "I''m going after Hobo Beard next." I announce to The Voice. "Understood." The Voice confirms, "I will compile all the information I have on him. We shall begin our preparations tomorrow." And with that, my eyes close, and I fall into a fitful sleep. Breaking and Entering For the first time in several weeks, my feet tread across the ground of the Dreaming Spires District. The black cab had dropped me off at the entrance of Unity College''s in campus hospital and was now driving off to hide somewhere in the darkness of the late evening. Both The Voice and I had hoped that making our move on the Archmage''s office after hours would be the safer bet, since most the students and staff would have already left for home. Unfortunately, Hobo Beard''s office shared the same building as the hospital and that meant that no matter the time of the day, there would be people around. Nevertheless, almost everyone with legitimate business here would be concentrated in the hospital itself, in theory giving me free passage to Hobo Beard''s office. I avoid the brightly lit main doors of the hospital proper and begin skirting along the side of the building, looking for the direct entrance to the staff annex. With the artificial core shut off, the few people still out and about simply turn away from the nondescript office drone dressed in a brown blazer and slacks making his way to the staff offices. The image is completed by a large empty leather briefcase that I am carrying. Unity College looks to be just as well funded as the Academy, with its impressively large and luxurious campus. The buildings may be old, red brick construction, but it had all been refurbished. The hospital itself is a huge building constructed in the gothic style, with carved walls bearing intricate patterns and coupled with a substantial modern extension. Patients and treatment areas are housed in the original historical building itself, while the staff have their offices in the new extension. Makes sense, you want to impress your clients after all. If you got it, flaunt it. "You sure you could not get anything out of the computer in Hobo Beard''s office?" I ask The Voice as I approach the locked door on the extension''s side leading to the staff annex and unlock it with the universal security pass. "Nothing of importance." The Voice confirms, "That is why I need you to perform this break in. It should not be a terribly difficult mission, since the university is hardly a high security area." Entering the staff annex, I am met with a staircase leading up to the higher levels of the building. I begin climbing up towards the floor Hobo Beard''s office is on. Sixth floor, if I remember correctly from the staff directory I saw online. "If I am going to cart off anything of importance in this briefcase right here," I query while making my way up the stairs, "wouldn''t Hobo Beard notice that his place had been burgled the moment he steps in tomorrow morning?" "Unfortunate but unavoidable." The Voice rasps, "Its the only way we can get our hands on Archmage Naiberg''s research. The important point is to ensure that Archmage Naiberg is unable to trace this burglary back to us." Grunting in acknowledgement, I open the door to the sixth floor of the staff annex and peek outside. A security guard is patrolling the darkened corridor before me, sweeping his flashlight around in a careless fashion. Bored and careless. That''s the best way I can describe it. "Why does Hobo Beard have his office in the hospital?" I whisper, "Its not as if he is a doctor here." The Voice rumbles as the security guard walks further down the corridor away from my position, "Access to the hospital facilities. From what I gathered from the files in Archmage Naiberg''s computer, his research involves a number of patients being treated here." "But this is not an actual research facility." I press on, "We wrecked Hobo Beard''s lab earlier. Where would he do his actual research when he is not busy poking and prodding the patients?"Stolen novel; please report. "I have no idea." The Voice admits, "Perhaps in the hospital as well? The medical reports Commander Hernandez gave us do confirm that the SOPO guards at the black site did receive treatment here after all." As the guard wanders off, I make my move and head down the corridor. From The Voice''s earlier surveillance of the building, patrols are really lax, the guards relying more heavily on security cameras instead of physical presence to keep out intruders. Good thing for me. With The Voice running interference, security cameras are not going to be a problem. And the less actual patrols there are, the less chance there is for me to be caught. The long corridor is flanked on both sides by personal offices, likely for the doctors that work here. I draw the maglite from my coat and snap it on, scrutinizing the name plates on each of the office doors. "Did you need to bring the revolver and baton as well?" The Voice asks, "It is not as if you are going to be fighting anyone here." "Just being prepared." I murmur, making my way slowly down the corridor, my ears tracking the sound of the guard''s footsteps. The rentacop is still moving away from me, great. I finally come to a door bearing a name plate that simply declares its occupant as "Archmage". Looking up, I note that Hobo Beard''s office looks no different from any of the other offices here. Its not even a corner unit, having been nestled between two neighboring offices that look exactly the same as the one allotted to Hobo Beard, at least based on the exterior. Hobo Beard''s office certainly does not look like the lair of a VIP. It makes sense though, especially if Hobo Beard is not based here most of the time. My heart sinks at this realization. If this place is not Hobo Beard''s main office, that meant the chances of something really valuable being stored here are slim. But this address was the only work place lead The Voice could dig up. If we failed to retrieve anything of interest here, we may need to consider either abducting Hobo Beard for a chat or performing a home invasion. The office''s door unlocks under The Voice''s influence and I slip in, closing it behind me. While I would still need to be cautious, none of the offices have any windows or openings to the corridor, allowing me to freely use the maglite without fear of detection. Casting the maglite about, I see that the entire work space has been buried in clutter. Files and piles of loose paper are all over the place, covering the table, shelves and chairs, as well as spreading to the floor. The table has a computer on it that had been placed on standby mode. Nothing of worth to be gained from there, according to The Voice. In addition to the junk strewn about, the shelves heave under the weight of various books. A quick check of the spines confirms my suspicion that those books were written by Hobo Beard himself. The only free space in the office is a shabby high backed chair in front of the computer. "I hope you don''t expect me to carry off all this paper with me." I say. The Voice rasps, "There is a safe under the table. Its contents would be the better choice." I hear the clunking noise of the safe unlocking and bend down in order to investigate. The safe is a simple cast iron affair with a mechanical lock, no fancy electronics here. Swinging the safe''s door open, I find several slim folders and a number of disconnected SSD drives secured within. With a single motion, I sweep the lot up into the briefcase and close the safe back up. I then try examining some of the papers left lying about, but its no use, either its about some mundane shit like patient arrivals or its super technical to the point where I cannot understand the document. It would take me forever to make sense of the clutter strewn about. "What about the books? Do you need them?" I ask The Voice. "No." The Voice demurs, "What we are looking for is more than the common knowledge held within those publications." Well I suppose that''s it then. I doubt we can get anything else out of this office, short of actually spending several hours here going through the clutter. The Voice appears to have come to the same conclusion and announces, "Exit the building and extract. I will go through what you have retrieved back at the hideout." "No." I say as a sudden inspiration strikes, "There''s something else I want to check." "Which is?" The Voice asks in surprise. I drift down the corridor like a ghost as I respond, "Hobo Beard did work on some of the patients here didn''t he?" "Lets do a meet and greet." Intensive Care "You know which ward they''re keeping all of Hobo Beard''s test subjects?" I ask The Voice while backtracking out of the staff annex. The Voice rumbles as it considers my question, "From the hospital records, it is ward B5, in the second floor of the hospital''s treatment wing. It is a restricted access ward, but other than a locked door, there does not appear to be any security guarding it." Seems like a low risk diversion, even though it might not turn up anything useful. There''s no harm in paying the place a visit since I am already here. After arriving back at the hospital''s exterior, I openly stride through the main entrance this time, since it is the fastest way to reach the treatment wing. Just beyond the entrance, I am met with a reception counter with a few people milling about it listlessly. The receptionist does not bother looking up from the glossy celebrity magazine she is reading and I make my way to the lifts completely unnoticed. "Great service. Much impressed." I comment while entering the lift and punching in the button for the second floor. "The rumored love affair between the Hero and his adoptive sister have set the printing presses afire." The Voice notes, "The story has all the ingredients bored women eat up, a good looking couple, a taboo relationship and a noble inheritance at stake." "But the Hero and Brocon haven''t gotten busy yet." I point out. "No." The Voice rasps, "Nevertheless, the people gathering around the pair are not blind. The relationship building up between the Hero and Heroine von Amsterg has nothing in common with regular sibling love." "Cool. Hero man''s making progress on one front at least." I reply, "But what about his actual training? Loli vampire is going to be a handful." The Voice hesitates for a moment before answering, "So far so good. The Hero makes rapid progress under the tutelage of Inspector Scott. Unfortunately, Inspector Scott is not powerful enough to truly prepare the Hero to face Marshal St Clair. The Hero''s progress will soon plateau and we may need to get directly involved with his training in order to ensure success of the plan." Yeah, I was worried about that happening. Loli vampire completely owned Big Tits the last time the two of them fought. The Hero plateauing would not have been a problem originally, since he would have, in theory, been able to train under Chance, a master who is far more powerful than Big Tits. Unfortunately, as we now know, that''s yet another trap laid by Fate to derail the Hero''s destiny. For good or ill, we need to keep Big Tits as the Hero''s mentor until this whole affair is over. "You want me to slap the Hero about some more?" I ask, "His core output improved quite a bit from just one or two blows from me." The Voice muses, "If it becomes necessary. Hopefully other opportunities will arise for the Hero to strengthen himself before we are forced to act in such a heavy handed manner." I bite back laughter saying, "Everything we''ve done so far is pretty much the text book definition of ''heavy handed''. Subtlety isn''t exactly your style." "How subtle can I be when the natives cannot even understand me?" The Voice complains, "I have to communicate in the universal language." "Which is?" I query as the lift comes to a stop and its doors slide open.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Violence." The Voice rasps. .... I peek around the corner and eyeball the doors to ward B5. The corridor is completely empty, with the exception of some nondescript guy slouched on a cheap plastic chair attached to the wall, snoring away. A pass card reader has been built into the wall next to the ward doors, blinking away in angry red. "Notice anything unusual?" I ask The Voice. "That man is merely pretending to be asleep." The Voice pronounces. "That''s not all." I say, "I''m looking at the guy''s spiritual nimbus right now, he''s using it to sweep the area, like a radar scan. The nimbus is also really dense, almost as thick as the one Big Tits was projected while we fought at Phase One earlier." "Most unusual." The Voice notes, "Mages the level of Inspector Scott are relatively rare. They would not be wasted doing something as mundane as guard duty." "Think back." I whisper, "The black site. The guards posted at the inner chamber were also close to Big Tit''s power level. You see a pattern emerging?" "A fair point." The Voice rumbles, "How are you going to get past this guard then? If he is as devoted to his job as the black site guards are, our man here is likely to shrug off any mental suggestions you may try to use." "No harm in trying. I''m still in a public area after all." I say and begin openly walking towards the ward while activating the artificial core. Although the guard continues snoring, the scan his spiritual nimbus is emanating immediately locks on to me. I focus and mind blast the guard as I approach. Ignore. But the scan does not waver the slightest. Whomever this guy is, he is totally committed to protecting this ward. Only one thing for it then. "Hey man." I say as I approach the guard and begin shaking him, "You know where the toilet is? I need to piss real bad." The only response I receive is continued snoring from the guard. Have to give it to him, he''s really into his role here. My left arm immediately snaps round the guards neck and begins to squeeze like a python. His eyes open with full alertness and he attempts to flare his spirit core in an attempt at powering out of my hold. Its too late though. My arm crushes his carotid artery with precision and overwhelming force in a perfect choke out. The guard''s struggles quickly subside and I allow him to slump back into the chair. I follow up by smacking the guard hard across the head with the baton for good measure. "You probably caused brain damage right there." The Voice says dryly. "Oh hush. At least I managed to keep him alive. Its an improvement from the warehouse at least." I remark before swiping the universal pass across the card reader. The reader responds with a friendly beep and the doors to the ward unlock. The smell of antiseptic assaults my nose the moment I enter the ward. Surrounding me in neat rows are probably beds, can''t tell for sure because all the privacy curtains have been drawn up. By the side of the ward I see whats probably a duty station, a sad looking table and office chair combo coupled with a telephone, with a young doctor sitting there dozing away for real, drool flowing freely down his face. A pair of rooms are located right at the end of the ward, both with their doors tightly closed. Music from the radio and laughter drifts over from that direction though. The staff are off skiving in one of those rooms then? I shake my head and turn to one of the privacy curtains, lifting is aside. If no one here is remotely bothered about their jobs, it gives me the chance to get up close and personal with some of the patients. Maybe I could question them about what kind of research is actually taking place here. "Shit!" I hiss in alarm as I take in the patient lying on the bed in front of me, "Are you seeing this?" "What about it?" The Voice rumbles disinterestedly, "Its just a cat girl." No. That is no cat girl. For one, the patient before me has her cat ears growing out of her forehead. I''m pretty sure that''s not supposed to happen. She also has a thankfully normal set of human ears at their normal position. Even more freakishly, there''s a cat''s mouth protruding horrifically out of the patient''s right cheek. I swallow hard and inspect the freak show closer. Checking the patient''s hands, I notice that she has not ten, but fifteen fingers, with the extra fingers bearing razor sharp claws. A broken halo flickers weakly around the patient''s body, and I carefully roll the comatose woman onto her stomach and undo her hospital gown. My stomach sinks when I see a pair of stubby wings growing haphazardly out of the woman''s back. I pick up the patient''s diagnostic record pinned to a board tied to the bed frame. No name there. The record just refers to freak show as "Unity Prospect - Subject 506". What in the world? Research and Ethics After digesting the stomach churning sight in front of me, I quickly return freak show to her original position on the bed. What in blazes is this Unity Prospect? Is Hobo Beard trying to create some kind of man-demon-angel hybrid? But to what purpose? Contrary to popular belief, scientists don''t just go about creating abominations to man on a whim. Science is expensive after all. Someone has to be bankrolling this operation. I managed to get one final observation out of freak show though. Her core is strong, like seriously strong. She is burning with almost pure spiritual energy. And the energy feels clean. There is none of that "heaviness" or pressure that I sense when seeing someone flare their core. This includes the Hero and the Heroines as well. Its as if freak show''s spirit energy had been run through a filter and had all the impurities removed from it. If freak show''s body was not utterly broken, she would be close to a force of nature. Oh yeah, she would also need to be not completely catatonic as well. But the point remains, Hobo Beard is doing something here that is boosting core growth. Probably altering the core as well, judging from freak show. And what Hobo Beard''s doing is very likely an affront to nature. Just a guess. "What do you think of what we just saw?" I ask The Voice for its opinion. "A failed experiment most likely." The Voice dismisses, "The laws of this world are not so easily overturned." "Laws?" I question before referring back to the diagnostic report for freak show. There''s something odd here, but I can''t place my finger on it. "Just a manner of speech, Transmigrator." The Voice rasps, "The gulf between races is not so easily overcome." "What? I''ve seen mixed race folks walking about on the street. The Hero himself is mixed race." I protest, "This is not just race mixing, its something else entirely." The Voice rumbles unconcernedly, "Perhaps. Though the only thing this experiment is proving is the Archmage''s incompetence." I narrow my eyes upon hearing The Voice''s answer as I keep scanning the diagnostic record. The Voice is being far too glib about this entire affair. It knows something. It knows what actually is going on here. But for some reason it doesn''t want to share that information with me. I stifle my curiosity and remind myself to focus on the task at hand for now. The Voice''s secrets can wait. "Check this out." I say, "From the diagnostic log, freak show here checked in after those black site guards came in for treatment. That makes absolutely no sense though. The black site guards returned to work with no problems. What happened to freak show?" "I am no doctor. Perhaps the answers lie somewhere else in this ward." The Voice suggests. Nothing for it then. After memorizing the drugs Hobo Beard had prescribed for freak show from the diagnostic record, I close up the privacy curtains around her bed and continue my inspection of the area. I have a go at checking a few more of the patients around me but the result is always the same. Catatonic and suffering from various bizarre mutations caused by the catastrophic merge of the three separate species. One demon guy''s arms were turning into angel wings while the goat horns on his head have begun to flake away. A female angel whose neck had morphed into a snake''s body. And a human male who had a parrot''s beak growing out from his crotch. Are all the patients like this? Where is Hobo Beard getting these guys anyway? I seriously doubt they are volunteers. Bile starts to rise in my throat and I quickly decide to move on.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Moving past the other beds with the drawn privacy curtains as quickly as I can, I make it to the end of the ward where the two rooms are located. One of the doors is marked as ''pantry'' and as before, I hear the sounds of chatter and radio music coming from that room. The other room is simply identified as ''storage''. I try the handle of the door leading to storage and it opens without resistance. I step into the storage room, shutting the door and locking it behind me. I then draw the maglite and flick it on, dispelling the room''s former darkness. Well, its a storage room, same as any other. There''s a whiteboard hung up on the wall, several boxes arranged in stacks and a large refrigerator humming away contentedly. I shine the maglite on the whiteboard and there is a single message written there in capital letters. ALL STAFF, REMEMBER TO LIMIT PATIENT FOOD INTAKE TO THE BARE MINIMUM I shudder at the memory of moving freak show''s body about. She was not just skinny, she well and truly qualified to be called emaciated. My hand could play xylophone with her protruding ribs. So Hobo Beard was deliberately starving his test subjects. I recall The Voice telling me about using food as a means of control over the locals. Was Hobo Beard trying to break The Voice''s influence over his test subjects? Just limiting food intake wasn''t enough though. Everyone had to eat sooner or later, and then they would get blasted by The Voice''s transmission once again. If Hobo Beard''s intention was to work around The Voice''s influence, his plan was doomed from the start. But that conclusion raises even more questions. Does Hobo Beard know about The Voice? Is he working with Fate? The likelihood of Magic Police Girl being tampered with is rising higher and higher. I don''t like where this investigation is leading. A quick check on the boxes reveals that they contain the drugs Hobo Beard had been prescribing the test subjects, packed into neat little plastic bottles. I take a bottle of each drug available for The Voice to analyze later at the hideout. Now for the fridge. A gust of cold air washes over me as I open the fridge''s door and check its contents. The fridge holds an absolutely massive number of individually labelled, tightly sealed glass test tubes holding what looks like blood. What catches my attention is that each test tube also contains some form of residual spiritual energy, swirling about restlessly inside the container. Running through the test tubes, I notice that those placed on the upper rows of the fridge are labelled with numbers, while the test tubes placed at the bottom of the fridge bear actual names. Numbers. Samples taken from the test subjects? A good enough guess as any. I recall freak show''s patient number and search among the test tubes for a matching vial. Soon enough, my search turns up a test tube that matches what I am looking for. "You can inspect souls in the hideout right?" I confirm with The Voice. "Of course." The Voice replies, "Secure whatever items you feel are necessary. I shall deal with the analysis later." On a hunch, I try to remember the names of the black site guards contained in the medical report Hernandez had passed to me. Krait. I''m pretty sure one of the guards was called Krait, or something really close to that. I then begin inspecting the test tubes with names on them, hoping that my hunch is right. The guards had been here before. Just because they have all been discharged, does not mean there is no trace of them left behind at the ward. And there it is. A test tube that matches the name I am looking for. With both these samples, hopefully I can get some answers about what Hobo Beard has been working on. After packing all the drugs and samples I''ve picked up into the briefcase, I exit the storeroom and make my way out of the ward. I had originally wondered why the staff were so lax here. Now I know. Why bother paying attention when everyone around you is in a bloody coma? "Not investigating the pantry?" The Voice asks. "Not much point. Also going there guarantees me being detected." I say, "Too much risk for too little gain." The Voice rasps, "Very well. I will summon the cab. Proceed to extract at the hospital''s entrance." I hasten my pace leave the ward, passing the still unconscious sentry at the entrance. Its time to go home. Out of Bounds "You filthy little rat!" the giant goat headed demon shouts and blazes his spirit core, causing his skin to flush an angry red. With a powerful swing of both his arms, the demon sends a massive iron club swinging in my direction. I quickly duck and roll, barely managing to evade the attack and summon my spirit sword, just as Irene had taught me. I focus my own power and slash at my opponent, who raises his club to block. Sparks erupt from the clash and a large iron chunk from the demon''s weapon is gouged off. The demon is sent skidding backwards and he slams into the wall, breathing heavily. I give a reassuring nod to Celeste who sits bound against a chair in the corner of the room, tears running down her eyes. When Sera had told me that Celeste had been kidnapped on her way home from the Academy and that it was likely carried out by the Legion, my heart sank with the knowledge that this incident was probably all my fault. Celeste had done nothing to provoke the Legion, so the only reason for her kidnapping would have been her connection with me. My guess was that the Legion intended to use Celeste to force me into forfeiting the duel with Nicholas. That was something I could not do though, not with Rose''s future riding on my shoulders. When SOPO got back to Sera with several possible locations at both Dreaming Spires and Six Trees the kidnappers could be hiding at, I insisted to accompany the teams being sent out to rescue Celeste. Rose demanded to come along as well as she felt that abandoning Celeste after the trouble we had dragged her into would be completely unconscionable. Inspector Hartley, the SOPO officer leading the investigation reluctantly agreed to our selfish request and allowed us to accompany the pair of assembled SOPO rescue teams. Irene and Rose would be paired together with the Dreaming Spires team, while Sera and I would head off with the others. As the team Sera and I were in would be responsible for searching locations in Six Trees, I had also asked Ken to come along as well since he knew the lay of the land. After the incident at the building site, Ken had become estranged from his father and the family had stopped listening to him. He jumped at my request to accompany us, probably to take his mind off his own troubles. While Ken''s father still provides him with an allowance, its clear that Ken has been pretty much cut off from the family as a whole. The once guaranteed future he had as the clan heir is very much in doubt. Which is another reason why I cannot forfeit the fight for my inheritance. Ken got into this mess because of me, and getting my inheritance is the only way I can take care of him and make things right. I will not abandon Ken, just as I will not abandon Celeste. Or Rose. It was nerve wracking travelling through Six Trees. SOPO had no authority there, and people knew it. Wherever we went to investigate, sneers were the first response we received. It was only because Ken was there with us that people finally began to talk and a trail began to emerge. A trail that led to a rundown tenement that was originally meant for demolition under the Host''s housing development scheme. And that''s where we are right now. Legion troops rushed us the moment the rescue team got here. Sera, Ken and myself managed to break through the defenders and make it to the apartment where Celeste was being held. Now we just need to deal with the deal with the welcoming committee. ... I focus my spirit and my sword spirit blazes ferociously. The goat man shakes his head and charges at me again, with the iron club raised high. Closing my eyes, I recall the lessons that Irene had taught me. Instinct takes over and the flat of the sword intercepts the demon''s club, releasing a shock wave of energy as it blocks the attack. The shock wave flings the demon''s arms to the side from the impact. My eyes snap open and see the demon left wide open to my counter attack. Without a second thought, my arm swings downwards, sending the spirit sword cleaving through my opponent''s body. As the bloody corpse hits the ground with a wet noise, I take the opportunity to survey how my friends are doing. Sera dances gracefully around her opponent, a hyena man dual wielding daggers. The hyena man''s daggers flash menacingly as thrust towards Sera, but she easily evades the attacks and ripostes with her saber, opening several small, bleeding wounds all over the demon''s body. As the hyena man pauses to take a painful breath, Sera''s form blurs towards his rear and the saber slashes cleanly through the tendons of her opponent''s legs. With an ear piercing shriek of pain, the demon topples to the ground like a rotted through tree, all the fight gone out of him. Ken snarls angrily as the claws from a hawk man rake his face. He lashes out with his fists, but the hawk demon bobs and weaves through the attack, The claws fly out again, tearing a nasty wound in Ken''s gut. As Ken is doubled over in pain, hawk man slams his foot into Ken''s head with a vicious hatchet kick, slamming Ken into the floor.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. No. None of you will hurt my friends today. In a well practiced motion, I send a blast of energy tearing towards hawk man from my spirit sword. Hawk man turns around in alarm and focuses his spirit as he raises both arms in a block. The wave of destruction crashes against the magically fortified arms of the demon, yielding a thin trickle of blood flowing down hawk man''s sleeves. At that moment Ken flies through the air, and his fist careens into hawk man''s face with the force of a freight train. The demon''s eyes take on a glassy look and Ken finishes it off with an uppercut. Its over. We did it. I rush over to Celeste and untie her from the chair. Weak from the stress and exhaustion, Celeste collapses into my arms, sobbing. .... "Legion black ops." Sera says as she drags both the handcuffed hawk and hyena demons along the corridor, "We need to take them back to SOPO HQ for questioning." I nod, "The sounds from the fighting outside have stopped and no one came to reinforce the guys in the apartment. Hopefully there will be more people for you to question." I support Ken with my shoulder as blood drips from the wound he suffered while my other arm holds Celeste tightly. As we are about to emerge from the building, what strikes me is the complete silence outside. Sera stops dead in her tracks, causing me to almost bump into her. What gives? Isn''t the fight over? Our little procession halts and I take cover behind a broken window and cautiously take a gander at what''s happening outside. Sera watches over our friends while menacing the prisoners with her saber. The fight is over. But not in the way I expected. Both the SOPO officers and the Legion black ops team are huddled together in a loose mass, completely silent. And before them is a line of ORPO personnel fully kitted out in armor, bearing rifles. The ORPO officers are completely silent as well, their meaning clear with the rifles leveled evenly at the crowd. Towering over the line of riflemen are several boxy looking mech suits painted in the stark white and bearing ORPO''s crest. I hear the whine of servo motors as the mech suit pilots posture threateningly with the massive axes wielded by their machines. I remember reading about those mechs in some magazine before. The P5 developed them to allow mundanes to battle mages in open combat. From what I can tell, the mechs bear hardly any magical enhancements, relying purely on composite armor for protection and their servos for strength. The axes are a different matter though, glowing with a crude enchantment meant to increase strike impact. All signs pointing to early generation models. This equipment must have been surplus gifted to ORPO when the P5 decided to show up. An amplified bark comes from one of the mechs, likely the leader of the ORPO unit, "SOPO task force, you have caused a disturbance in Six Trees and have overstepped your authority. Explain yourselves." A random SOPO officer steps forward and addresses the ORPO leader, "We are in the middle of a rescue operation. A girl had been kidnapped and we believe that she is being held within this building." The ORPO leader barks in reply, "You are acting outside of your jurisdiction and everyone here shall be detained pending further questioning. The search of the building will be carried out by us." With a gesture from the commander, a number ORPO officers step forward with handcuffs at the ready. The SOPO task force bristles and looks ready to fight back, but get the message when the rifles are raised back up to firing position. Both SOPO and the demons get on their knees with their hands on their heads as instructed with no further delay. The mechs stay behind to keep watch over their prisoners while a large group of ORPO officers breaks off from the contingent and heads towards the building. Sera curses under her breath, "ORPO is doing this to show who is in charge. Tensei, we can''t allow ourselves to be found by them. Who knows how long we will spend in the lockup." How are we going to get out of this? Celeste and Ken need medical treatment. We don''t have the time to play games with ORPO. I feel like tearing my hair out in frustration. The hawk demon chooses this moment to speak up, "Secret passage back at the apartment. Its how we smuggled in your friend without ORPO noticing. Will show it to you, but you have to promise to help me escape. Deal?" I look at Ken bleeding out. There''s no time to use the secret passage, he needs help now. If I surrender myself, could I persuade ORPO to send Ken to a hospital? The hawk demon, guessing whats on my mind, quickly says, "Friend is Matsui boy, correct? Father allied with ORPO, they will not hurt him. Safe to leave him behind. Now hurry!" Sera points at the hyena demon and asks the hawk, "What about him? He can''t walk." The hawk rolls its eyes and hisses urgently, "He needs hospital as well. Can try going with Matsui boy. Knew the risks when we signed up. Professionals." The hyena nods silently at this statement. Ken groans in pain and adds his two cents, "I''ll take care of Celeste. She won''t be able to run far in the condition she is in anyway." I look at Sera, her body tightly wound like a spring. If ORPO catches her, she will be in a world of trouble. The option of surrendering is not open to her. And her only means of escape is someone we just arrested. Leaving her alone with the hawk demon is pure foolishness. Alright its decided then, I will accompany Sera in her escape attempt. Celeste tightens her grip on me and refuses to let go, begging me to take her with us. But this is for the best, by taking her with me, I''ll just be exposing her to more danger. I gently pat Celeste on the head and pry her off me. I clasp Ken''s hand hard. We will all see each other again soon. I''m sure of it. I turn to the hawk and order, "Lead on." The Getaway I take the lead in the scramble back to the ground floor apartment with our prisoner sandwiched between Sera and I. ORPO will begin storming the building soon, we need to make ourselves scarce before they show up. The handcuffed Hawk man quickly informs us, "Our leader had pouch on him, filled with security key cards. Still on corpse left in apartment. Grab it." We burst through the apartment''s front door and I quickly make my way to the corpse of the demon I had killed just a few minutes ago. A warm, rancid smell is already starting to rise from the body. A cursory search reveals the pouch the Hawk was talking about now smeared with its owner''s blood and entrails. Stifling my sense of disgust, I unhook the pouch from what''s left of the demon''s waist and awkwardly clean it on its former owner''s shirt. "Remove handcuffs." the Hawk says, "Need to unlock secret passage." Sera raps the Hawk in the head with the flat of her saber, dismissing the suggestion, "Nice try. Tell us how to uncover the secret passage and Tensei can do it for you." The Hawk scowls and spits on the ground before answering Sera, "Secret passage under cabinet in this room. Just move cabinet aside and you will see hole." I guessed as much. I had already noticed the scuff marks on the floor near the cabinet when we had finished rescuing Celeste but at that time had no reason to investigate further. I nod to Sera and push the cabinet out of its position, revealing a crudely dug hole in the floor with a rope ladder attached to its side. "You were hoping to buy your freedom with something so obvious?" I ask the Hawk. The Hawk snorts, "Hole is easy part. Do you know how to use key cards in pouch? Do you know where to use them? Remove handcuffs or I don''t guide you any further." Sera looks conflicted, her every instinct telling her not to let this criminal go. But we cannot afford to be dogmatic about things now. Like it or not, we need the Hawk''s help. "Let him go, Sera." I say, "We did promise to help him to escape after all." Sera complies with an unhappy look on her face and the handcuffs fall off the Hawk with a clink. The Hawk massages his wrists gingerly and wedges the cabinet against the door of the apartment, hopefully buying us some extra time. The three of us then descend into the hole using the rope ladder, allowing darkness to consume us completely. The hole leads to an unlighted, crudely excavated tunnel. Thankfully, the tunnel is also incredibly narrow, allowing the three of us to make our way through by feeling the walls with our hands. Cold sweat runs from my back. What if this is just a set up prepared by the Hawk? It would be an easy matter for the Hawk to escape using the darkness, leaving us behind. He might also me leading us to an ambush. My left hand shoots forward and grabs the Hawk by his shoulder, eliciting a cry of surprise. "Its dark. We should hold on to each other." I suggest. "Sure. Whatever. Just keep moving." The Hawk grumbles and continues blundering his way forward. A pair of arms wrap around me from the back and I feel warm softness press against me. This time its my turn to cry out in surprise. "Can''t see." Sera murmurs, "This is fine, isn''t it?" "Can we hurry up?" the Hawk snaps irritably and I feel his body pulling me forwards. I feel Sera resting her chin against my shoulder, her tense breathing a light breeze against my ear. Her fingers pierce into my body. My heart begins to beat hard, and not just from the danger closing in on us. Where are we going? Where am I going? .... The tunnel eventually begins gently sloping upwards, we must be close to the exit point. But that''s not right. By my guess, we had been walking for roughly fifteen minutes only. That would still place us within the danger zone of the ORPO force. Just as I am about to press the Hawk on what exactly he has planned, the tunnel abruptly ends and the Hawk begins pushing against the ceiling. Sera and I get the hint and we join the Hawk in this effort, pushing against what feels like a concrete slab. The slab lifts, and the three of us climb out of the tunnel. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "What is this place?" I ask, casting my eyes about. It looks like we are in a warehouse, except that it is completely empty, save for a vehicle sized elevator sitting in the corner. A carpet of dust has settled over the floor, and as we make our way to the elevator, our footsteps stir the dust up, causing Sera to sneeze. The warehouse does not have any upper levels, meaning that the elevator leads back underground. "The elevator seems to be shut down." I observe. Have we reached a dead end? "Pouch." The Hawk gestures impatiently. I hand the pouch over to him without further comment. At the very least he knows what he is doing. The Hawk checks the watch on his wrist and selects one of the cards carried within the pouch. He swipes the card across the reader built into the elevator and with a loud clank, a massive metal box built into the elevator''s frame opens, revealing a keyboard. The Hawk then flips the card over and begins typing in whatever is written there into the keyboard. "An Inclinator!" Sera exclaims, "How in the world did you get the security cards and codes to operate one? Those are only given out on a restricted basis!" The Hawk looks up, rolling his eyes at the question, "By paying for it of course. How else?" He then goes back to typing on the keyboard, ignoring the both of us. Sera grips my hand happily and leans close, "If its an Inclinator, we''re saved. This will take us to the underground maintenance areas of The City. We can bypass ORPO completely down there and make our way across the Six Trees border." Just as Sera finishes talking, the Inclinator''s motor roars as it is awakened from its slumber. The Hawk folds his arms in a satisfied fashion and turns to regard us, "Inclinator needs time to warm up. Just wai-" All of a sudden the Hawk goes completely silent. He just stares at us quietly with a very knowing look on his face. What? What''s going on? I turn to Sera for a hint, but all she does is blush and look away, gripping my hand even tighter. I turn back to the Hawk and he just smirks to himself before going back to waiting for the Inclinator. My heart feels heavy, as if a moment of decision is pressing on me. All I can do now is wait for that moment to come. ..... After riding the Inclinator down to the under city, the Hawk led Sera and I to a monorail station and pointed out the shuttle which would take us to Red Perch Cape. Apparently, the Inclinator at Dreaming Spires had been locked down, for reasons unknown to the Hawk. After instructing Sera and I on how to operate an Inclinator and handing over the relevant security cards to us, the Hawk hopped on to a shuttle heading in the opposite direction, parting ways with us. So that''s where Sera and I are now, sitting in a completely empty shuttle with only each other for company. "Thank you." Sera says softly, her hands winding around my arm. "For what?" I ask, honestly curious. "You did not need to help me escape ORPO." Sera explains, leaning her head against my shoulder, "You could have just surrendered with Ken and Celeste. But you stayed with me. So thank you." "I promised to never leave you." I reply. Sera nods contentedly and unbuttons her blouse, drawing out a locket. She flips it open and looks sadly at the carved cameo of a middle aged woman placed inside. "Your mother right?" I say. I had seen this locket before while staying at Sera''s home, but this is the first time she had opened it in front of me. "I never knew her." Sera murmurs, "She died when I was very young. When father gave me this locket to remember her by, he told me that my mother would be with me forever." Sera shuts the locket and closes her eyes, whispering sadly, "That''s the only time that man acted like a real father towards me." I hold Sera tightly in my arms. Its terrible how her father had treated her. Maybe that''s why both of us grew so close. Shared experience in lousy families. To my surprise Sera presses the locket into my hand, urging me to take it. My heart leaps into my throat. This is more than a random gift, its an oath, a vow. If I accept the locket, everything will change between me and Sera. And I would hurt Irene as well. "But its the only thing you have of your mother." I protest. "You will be with me forever right?" Sera asks with a smile, "So mother will never be far as well." I swallow hard. I did promise Sera that and she has no one else beside me. Sera''s arms embrace me tightly, hungrily. Her eyes are bright with expectation, waiting for my answer. The monorail suddenly jerks to a stop and all the lights go out. A power failure? Sera gives a small wail of distress. Darkness. Both of us are plunged into darkness. If I abandon Sera now, she will surely be consumed by the dark. To save my friend, I must be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice of myself. To share myself, body and soul, no matter the consequences. I merely do what must be done. Forgive me, Irene. My fingers close in on the locket, and our destines are sealed. .... "Good news Transmigrator." The Voice rasps happily, "We are another step closer to victory." "Wow." I remark, "The Hero''s really quite easy at the end of the day isn''t he?" The Voice laughs delightedly, "I would not put it in such terms. After all, surely good things must be shared?" "And in this world, nothing''s better than the Hero." I guffaw in agreement. Of What May Be "How did those two get the opportunity to, uh, do it?" I ask The Voice while unwrapping the burger I bought from a fast food place and taking a seat on an empty bench in the park near where the hideout is. The Voice rasps with amusement, "From the SOPO communications that I had intercepted, the Hero and Heroine Naiberg had trespassed into Six Trees in an attempt to rescue a classmate of theirs who had been kidnapped by the Legion. ORPO decided to show up part way through the operation, forcing both Hero and Heroine to flee through the Sarcophagus with the help of a Legion trooper they fought. It was all very romantic, I assure you." I raise an eyebrow at this revelation, "The Sarcophagus is considered romantic now? You have strange tastes." "A man and a woman, trapped in a monorail that had inadvertently broken down." The Voice rumbles, "In the darkness away from prying eyes, their wild animal passion was unleashed upon each other. How is that not romantic?" I bite back my giggles at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, "That sounds like a plot for a porno film. Lonely Hero Trapped On Monorail Rails Heroine." "What is pornography but the celebration of the creation of new life?" The Voice asks with mock innocence, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Transmigrator." I smirk while taking a bite of my food, "Did you have anything to do with the monorail breaking down?" "Serendipity, Transmigrator, is something the gods indulge in every now and again." The Voice says, barely holding back its laughter. I take a gulp of the soda that came with the burger and idly watch the passers by drifting aimlessly around the park while on their lunch break. A random thought comes to my mind and I remark, "So that''s Magic Police Girl sorted then? What about the possibility of her being tampered with by Fate?" The Voice rasps, this time in a deeply serious tone, "I have almost completed the analysis of the evidence you brought back from the hospital. The Archmage is a careful sort, and none of the documents or the data contained in the SSDs made direct reference to the process he used on Heroine Naiberg or the black site guards. However, by comparing the information that is available with the blood samples that you had retrieved, I have made a number of preliminary conclusions." I immediately sit up and start paying attention. "You know how Hobo Beard managed his feat?" I exclaim., "So growing a soul is not impossible after all?" "No." The Voice refutes, "I know what was done, but not how Archmage Naiberg did it. Furthermore, the Archmage never succeeded in growing a soul. What he did was something else entirely." I frown while finishing off the burger, "I don''t get it. How did the black site guard''s souls expand to their current size then?" The Voice explains, "Transmigrator, the burger you just ate, the soda you are drinking now, would you say that such cuisine can make you put on weight?" "Well, yeah." I agree, "If I ate burgers and drank sugary stuff everyday. But we''re talking about souls here. Souls don''t get fatter, do they?" The Voice continues, "After fusing with Mr Gallant''s soul fragment, would you say that your soul has greater metaphysical weight than before?" Oh my god. "No way. No way." I protest, "Are you saying that Hobo Beard has been fusing souls together to make them stronger?" "Precisely." The Voice rasps, "That is how the Archmage managed to strengthen the spirit cores of individuals who had reached maturity. Based on the blood sample of the black site guard you had retrieved, the guard carries the souls of multiple other people forcibly welded to his own. Spiritual cannibalism in other words."Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. I pause for a moment to digest this information before asking, "Would that mean the black site guards suffer from the same weakness that I do? Multiple souls competing for dominance in a single body?" "No." The Voice says, "It is the mind that thinks, not the soul. Archmage Naiberg has found a way to extract a soul while divorcing it from the governing mind. That is the true breakthrough that he made." I make a questioning noise, not fully understanding what The Voice is talking about. The Voice realizes that I am completely lost and clarifies, "Take yourself as an example Transmigrator. Your soul has crossed dimensions, yet it still maintains a link with your physical brain that remains in your home world. You have full access to your memories and skills. Your personality is completely unchanged. Now imagine if I had seized your soul and installed it in Mr Gallant''s body as a mindless power source. There would be no conflict arising between you and Mr Gallant under those circumstances, would there?" I feel my mouth going dry and take another gulp of soda. "So what happens to the guys who lost their souls?" I query. The Voice hums as it considers my question, "To qualify as a living being in this world, one must fall under Fate''s dominion. Fate''s influence is exerted through the soul. I think you can answer your own question at this point." Yeah. I recall The Voice saying something similar when we first met. And that statement has only one logical conclusion. Death. Hobo Beard''s extraction process kills the donors. No wonder there has been absolutely zero publicity about the research. There would be a riot if people knew that Hobo Beard had been feeding SOPO officers the souls of others. "So, about Magic Police Girl, you think she underwent the same process." I remark, ruminating on the unpleasant possibilities, "If the soul Hobo Beard fed her was lobotomized, that would mean the tampering she experienced would not have much effect on our plan." The Voice concurs, "I cannot say for sure, but the signs point in that direction. After all, if there was another soul manipulating Heroine Naiberg, I would certainly have detected personality shifts in her during the course of my surveillance." Makes sense. That would explain why The Voice for all these years had never realized Magic Police Girl''s soul had been manipulated. But there''s something The Voice is missing. "These brain dead souls," I inquire while tapping my chin, "would they still be subject to Fate''s influence?" The Voice pauses for a moment before replying in an unsure tone, "Yes? There is no evidence suggesting otherwise." "Then we are back to the same problem." I shoot back while getting up to throw the trash away, "Fate might be using the soul installed by Hobo Beard into his daughter as a listening bug. We still need to find a way to have it removed." The Voice responds apologetically, "Unfortunately, I cannot work out how the Archmage managed to perform soul extractions without the need for a synchronicity event. The data we have on hand is insufficient. Also before you ask, I suspect that the Archmage''s procedure will may be the solution to your problem with Mr Gallant. After all, you intend to return the soul fragment, correct? There would be no need for anyone to die under those circumstances." My heart lifts at this declaration but doubts still linger in my mind. "What if Hobo Beard''s process requires a someone dying in order to work?" I ask, "There might be some element of equalization to the whole thing. The death might be a way of balancing the scales since there is no synchronicity event when performing the extraction." There were concepts like that from back where I came from. Yin and Yang. Action and Reaction. And most importantly of all, no such thing as a free lunch. There has to be a reason why a synchronicity event was needed to extract a soul. Whatever Naiberg did to overcome that need would have exacted a price of its own. The Voice rasps dispassionately, "That is certainly possible, but I need more data before I provide confirmation one way or the other. Nevertheless, even if your suspicions turn out to be true, the ball is really in your court Transmigrator. Mr Gallant''s life means nothing to me. Once I have the full process on hand, I can perform the operation whenever you request it." I rub my face tiredly. Its always something, isn''t it? I have already ruined Gallant''s life. If it comes down to it, would I be willing to end it as well? "We are on the right track though." I say after screwing up all the determination I have, "We need to keep pursuing this lead. What about the freaks we saw at the hospital? How do they fit into all this?" "Take a seat Transmigrator." The Voice informs me, "That matter makes for grim discussion, and I suspect that we will be here for some time." I shut my eyes and get comfortable on the bench. Forget about Gallant for now. Concentrate on the issues at hand. What will be, will be. Que sera. Legacy Of The Past "Perfection, or rather a twisted idea of perfection, is the driving force behind the Archmage''s more recent work." The Voice pronounces, "Those unfortunates that we met at the hospital were the ones who paid the price for this misguided pursuit." "Pardon me?" I protest with my eyes still closed, "Freak show and friends were the furthest thing from perfection. If that is Hobo Beard''s idea of perfection, I have doubts about his other research." The Voice rasps, "Do not merely look at externals Transmigrator, the test subjects we inspected may be ugly on the outside, but by a certain definition, completely flawless on the inside. Remember, the Archmage''s business is not plastic surgery." Beautiful on the inside, huh? That can only mean one thing. Souls. Is The Voice saying that freak show and friends have perfect souls? Thinking back to my experience at the ward, I did notice something unusual about the souls of the test subjects. Their souls were clean, light, unlike anything else I experienced. "No pressure." I snap my figures as the memory comes to me, "The patients'' spirit cores exerted no pressure on their surroundings. Their souls also felt somehow, pure? That would be the best way to put it I suppose." "Correct." The Voice rumbles with approval, "The Archmage is trying to create a being that is a combination of the three races, and the first step is the fusion of three disparate souls into a single entity. The spirit cores of the patients release no ''pressure'' as you put it as the core is in perfect harmony with itself." "I felt pressure coming from the SOPO guards'' spirit cores though." I comment. The Voice says, "Their souls were fused with the souls of other humans only." I frown while getting up from the bench and pacing about, "How does that work? Wouldn''t the addition of two cores from completely different races add more chaos into the picture? Its like trying to cross breed a dog, horse and cat together. If anything, the black site guards'' souls should have more ''harmony'', as you put it. They suffer from no obvious mutations for one." The Voice pauses for a moment before saying, "What if the three species have a common ancestor? What if those physical changes you saw were not mutations, but a reversion instead?" I put my hands in my trouser''s pockets, ruminating as I stroll about the park. Common ancestor. That''s not possible. Is The Voice saying that angels and demons descended from apes as well? Well, not apes. Judging from the mutations, chimeras? No, I''m thinking about things the wrong way. Racking my mind about what I know about Hobo Beard and his research, I recall one of the rules of this dimension''s magic. Racial spell casting. Angels and demons cast spells that are unique to their race. But Hobo Beard worked out a way to allow humans to cast every spell, regardless of which race it originated from without exception. Everyone got worked up because it looked like Hobo Beard had overturned one of the big rules of magic. But what if that was not true? What if Hobo Beard''s discovery was something that worked well within the rules? Something like his soul growth research. It was just a matter at looking at things from a different perspective. If Hobo Beard worked how humans could cast spells from angel and demon racial pools, then that means ... "Humans share a common ancestor with angels and demons." I cautiously probe. "Go on." The Voice grunts. The gears of my mind spin relentlessly. I feel that I am on the verge of touching one of this dimension''s big secrets. The missing link. Hobo Beard must have found the missing link that binds all three species together. So its not really three different species, its more like different breeds of dogs or cats. If I turn back the clock far enough, I can identify the founding genus. The root of this extended family tree. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. "The precursor civilization." I blurt out as the pieces fall into place, "They were the ones that were on this world first. Then they died out. But that''s not true isn''t it?" "Very good." The Voice confirms, "When the precursor civilization perished due to natural disasters, there were enough survivors scattered about to found successor civilizations of their own. Time and isolation from each other have resulted in these descendants becoming completely unrecognizable from their ancestors." "But wait. These were the days before Fate, right?" I narrow my eyes in suspicion, "How in the world did these descendants get separated from each other? Heaven and Hell are kept apart from this world by dimensional barriers. Dimensional barriers that would have been controlled by you." The Voice laughs humorlessly, "Its simple. I was the one that separated them." "Why?" I ask while furrowing my brow, "For what purpose?" The Voice rumbles, in a somewhat wistful tone, "After the demise of their civilization, the survivors were in a desperate position. They begged me for aid and I consented. However, the land was ravaged by a genocidal war they had fruitlessly waged in the last years of their civilization, a sad, futile burst of violence from a doomed people. Their future was hanging on a thread." Wow, I never knew that. Guess war never changes after all. The Voice continues, "Beasts. That was the best way to describe them. Warlike and violent, they still possessed the knowledge of their ancestors and put such gifts to terrible use. To save them from themselves, I had to separate them into three different tribes and the dimensional barriers were erected to ensure that peace would reign and the land had time to recover." "But things did not work out." I comment, "If it did, Fate would not exist." "No. Things most certainly did not work out." The Voice sighs, "Time passed, and so did the gratitude I received. Adventurers began to quest for the lost heritage of the precursors, which ultimately fell into the hands of Fate. You know what happened next." "The long war that never ended." I conclude, "Is that why you''re always so passive aggressive towards the locals?" The Voice replies sullenly, "It was a difficult time for me Transmigrator. I washed my hands off the natives ever since Fate became the deity that governs life. The natives are welcome to live out their existences, as long as they do not infringe on my interests. No more and no less." "Well, you''ve got me, if that helps." I offer. Never thought I would hear The Voice sounding so down. Everybody has something painful in their past I suppose. The Voice snorts, "It is not as if you have anyone in this dimension yourself. Still, your presence has helped me immensely, Transmigrator. For that I thank you." "Did I get Voice points out of that?" I joke. It seems so long ago, the time I was agitating for a waifu. Now those concerns appear so petty to the high stakes both of us were playing for. The Voice laughs, "Enough to trigger my h-scene Transmigrator. I will spawn an old sock back at the hideout. Feel free to use my matter to pleasure yourself." "Cute." I grumble, "But back to the business at hand, how did Hobo Beard get roped into this project?" The Voice muses, "This is just a guess on my part, but the Archmage was probably scouted after his earlier experiments on soul growth produced a success." I nod, "Magic Police Girl. But that was not genuine soul growth. And I think I know why the success could not be replicated. Once the P5 realized that the procedure required taking life, interest died out. Then a cover story was created, am I right? Can''t have people finding out that the respected Archmage was killing his test subjects on the P5''s dime." "Most likely." The Voice agrees, "A story that Heroine Naiberg was truly unique, able to take advantage of a one of a kind miracle procedure that worked on no one else. An easy sell, since Heroine Naiberg is at her core indeed unlike almost anyone else." "But there was someone who did not care about the body count." I say as I sit back down on the bench, my legs feeling tired from all the pacing, "That someone invited Hobo Beard over to The City and got him working on the SOPO officers and the precursor project." The corruption in the URI. The money flowing into black box projects. The interference in SOPO. The connections with The City''s government. And of course, all that talk about Unity. Unity between worlds. Unity between races. We had our suspicions before, but all this evidence just confirms it. "Michael. That angel." I declare, "He''s the one behind the precursor project. But why?" "Isn''t it clear as day, Transmigrator?" The Voice rumbles, "Who do you think is eligible to access the knowledge of the precursors?" Of course. Its so obvious. "The codex can only be accessed by a precursor." I breathe, "And Michael is getting one made to order." Teachings of The Prince For the umpteenth time, the video clip displaying the recent attack on the URI plays on the evening news. The camera pans slowly, taking in the chaos and damage inflicted on the site before focusing on a pair of figures brawling in front of an overturned bulldozer. A man and a woman, beating the living daylights out of each other. Though to be fair, its clear to any observer that its the man who is doing more of the beating. The woman is sent flying back from a savage blow and lands in a heap. The video cuts off at that point and the program returns focus on to the newscaster. "Boss, your brother has gone completely out of control." Chance says while standing behind me, "Let me bring him back. I can end this." I shut my eyes and try to ignore Chance''s nagging. She had been harping non-stop about the need to take action quickly against Daffyd to the point where it had gotten annoying. That was the reason I ordered Chance to hang around that idol singer during the day. As long as Chance is out of my sight, she is welcome to go bother someone else. "You''re still using that walking stick." I remark flatly. Chance draws a sharp breath but doesn''t back down, "I can handle him boss. Your brother has no counter to the fire of perdition. With support from the rest of the men, we can have your brother will be back in Neo-Cardiff in no time." "Why are you so obsessed with Daffyd anyway?" I ask, "I''m his sister and I''m not even half as worked up about it as you are." Chance draws herself up to her full height and says, "He has sinned against the world. I cannot live under the same sky as him." I face palm and turn away from Chance. Not this again. Chance a grown woman, lives her life according to an oath she made as part of a cosplay club. If Chance wasn''t as powerful as she is, I would have sacked her without a second thought. I make a vague sound, hoping Chance gets the message and just shuts up. "Boss, I know you don''t take me seriously on this subject," Chance presses on heedless of my displeasure, "but please listen. Your brother has made himself an enemy of the world. He is both a danger to others and to himself." I sigh and turn around to face Chance. "Alright fine. Tell me why Daffyd is the enemy of the world. Is it because of the murder and terrorism?" I challenge. Daffyd is already giving me enough of a headache. I don''t need my bodyguard engaging in a sixth grade level fantasy thanks to my brother''s antics. To my surprise Chance shakes her head, her expression solemn. I was half expecting her to break out into a rant about justice this and vengeance that, but she throws something completely unexpected at me. "Your brother, knowingly or not, has rejected his true destiny. He refuses to accept his rightful place in the world." Chance declares, "Just as he refused to accept his rightful place in your family boss." "Explain." I snap at Chance, "Are you saying Daffyd''s proper place is to be weak and powerless?" I may not see eye to eye with Daffyd, but I will never accept that proposition. Ever. Chance shakes her head, issuing a denial, "No. What I mean is that man is not your brother, at least not anymore. Daffyd has abandoned the place destiny had allocated to him and is now recklessly trying to carve a new space for himself, regardless of the cost to others." Chance''s statement causes a lump to rise in my throat. That was the exact feeling I had when talking with Daffyd that night. As if he was a completely different person. Is this what Chance is going on about? "Then how would you know that Daffyd has rejected his proper destiny?" I ask while looking at Chance in the eye, "Don''t you dare try to bamboozle me on something so personal. I know my own brother." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Chance smiles triumphantly, "Because you told me that yourself. Didn''t you say that you felt no trace of your family magic when you tested Daffyd that night?" I frown, that was something that had been bothering me as well, but I don''t see how it ties into Chance''s allegations against Daffyd. "All that means is Daffyd trained under a different master." I dismiss, "He admitted that himself even." Chance just keeps smiling, "Echoes. Did you sense any echoes of your father within Daffyd''s spirit core? Boss, both of us have been in regular contact with each other. By now, I can recognize the feel of a soul born under the Gallant family. The unique pressure. I felt none of that when I fought Daffyd. It was as if he was completely unrelated to you." My mouth goes dry. Spiritual traits are passed down from generation to generation. Effectively the spiritual equivalent of DNA. My spirit core bears identifying marks that came from Da. As my brother, Daffyd should also bear similar traits on his core. Chance is right. Training under a different master on its own would not have scrubbed those identifying marks from Daffyd''s core. Whatever training Daffyd went through to awaken his power had to involve something else. Something that went deeper. "None of that proves Daffyd has rejected destiny." I point out, "Much less him becoming an enemy of the world." Chance rubs her temples in exasperation, "Boss, think! Can a spirit core ever lose its identifying traits?" No. Its like your physical DNA. Totally permanent. I slump into the sofa as the implications of what Chance is hinting at become clear to me. Its not Daffyd''s spirit core both of us sensed. And the spirit core is formed by the soul. "Spell it out for me." I whisper. I don''t dare make the final connection. Chance lays her hand on my shoulder compassionately, "I''ve said it already boss. That man is not your brother. Not anymore." "That''s impossible. A soul cannot be removed from its body." I shoot back, grasping at any issue to prove Chance wrong. But her next reply dashes my hopes. "A pact." she says, pausing for effect, "Someone else is sharing the body with Daffyd. Most likely with his consent." My mind goes back to the stories of the early human mages and shamans, the risks they had to bear when casting their spells. A stroke of bad luck meant an indefinable, soul devouring horror being summoned. The modern casting system had relegated all of that into the past though. But was Daffyd desperate enough to put his faith in the old traditions? Its possible. The weakness in his soul was something the modern system could not overcome. Daffyd might have been tempted to seek out older, less orthodox forms of magic. "But Daffyd obviously recognized me." I point out to Chance, "He also clearly remembered our past together." And Chance delivers the final blow as she explains, "Which is why its a pact instead of possession. Daffyd consented to the being he summoned taking up residence in his body in exchange for power. The Daffyd we saw is probably a gestalt entity, formed from the merger between your brother and whatever being he came into contact with." Chance concludes, "When the new Daffyd was born, his true destiny would have fallen away. Without a destiny, your brother would have lost his rightful place in the world. Such an outcome would force Daffyd to naturally become the world''s enemy in his quest to carve out a space within it for himself." I glance up at Chance''s solemn face and remark, "You''re surprisingly knowledgeable. Not what I expected from an easily excitable muscle head." Chance huffs in good humor at my jab, "The Path is after all a historical society boss. Beneath the cosplay and posturing, adherents are expected to have a thorough knowledge of the teachings left behind by Prince Enma. The Prince was one of his generation''s greatest mages and I am his foremost disciple. Obscure knowledge concerning the old ways is kind of what I had been studying for the last several years." I lean back into the sofa and instinctively grab on to Chance''s hand. "Is there any chance I can save Daffyd?" I ask plaintively. "It may be difficult." Chance says as gently as she can, "Daffyd might not want to be saved in the first place." "But you can do it, if we manage to bring Daffyd in?" I insist, "You can get the real Daffyd back?" Chance''s voice wavers and her expression becomes unsure, "Uh, in theory, yes. But no one has actually tried something like this as far as I remember. The only thing we have are the reference materials left behind by the Prince. It also depends on how powerful the entity that Daffyd merged with is." I stand up, patting Chance on the shoulder, "I have faith. After all you are the Master here, aren''t you?" Chance laughs ruefully, "Well, took you long enough to take my title seriously." Wait for me Daffyd. I am going to get you back. No matter the cost. The Page of Swords "... And so we are pleased to admit Mr Stevenson as the latest partner of Raffridge Engineering. Give him a round of applause!" the old bitch announces to the packed meeting room. I roll my eyes and clap my hands with a complete lack of enthusiasm. Wonder Boy stands up from his seat and gives everyone a gracious bow coupled with a shy smile. I quick glance to my left tells me that Anna is busy blushing and fanning herself with a file while ogling Wonder Boy. It doesn''t take a genius to work out what she''s thinking of at the moment. ''Ooh, do me now, Wonder Boy.'' Something like that. And my money is on the other female staffers thinking the exact same thing at this moment. Yes, I am bitter and jealous. What about it? Anyone would be too in my position. "Anna, I need the updated status reports before you leave the office today." I whisper. Anna''s face turns as sour as a lemon and she quickly makes excuses. "Uh, its my birthday today and we were planning on going for a party." Anna protests. I internally snicker to myself. Yeah, I know. That''s why I''m asking you for the status reports. "Before you leave." I repeat as I give Wonder Boy a friendly salute from my place. Its mean and petty, but I feel better already. Wonder Boy graces me with a friendly smile and salutes back. My mood sinks again and I lean back in my seat as the bitch starts talking about the big project that''s going to take this company to the top. That''s an understatement at the very least. What most of the staffers don''t know is that the company stands on the threshold of going out of business. Everything looks hunky dorky now, but the company running out of cash. By my estimate, we can hold out for around six months at our current level of operational spending. Anything more than that, and things are going to get really uncomfortable for everyone. So this meeting is less about Wonder Boy being promoted to partner and more about the old bitch appointing a newly minted hero to save her ailing kingdom. Like those novels you can read online. Except that instead of throwing down against a demon king, Wonder Boy is going to do battle against Insolvency, the eternal enemy of any company. I roll my eyes again as Wonder Boy is announced as the leading manager for that new project. The old bitch probably caught me in the act and shoots me warning glare. Oh alright, maybe I''m not being particular fair here. The bitch is not old. She''s also hot. But she''s still a bitch. Inherited the company from her family after the old man retired to go senile in peace. Or so I heard. Its not as if I''m particularly close to the circles of power. I allow my eyes to glaze over with boredom and retreat back into the sanctuary of my own mind. How did I manage to sink so low? If the staffers around me knew what I was thinking, they would be surprised. Say what you like, I am a manager in this company. Not a particularly important one, but I do have an office of my own and I do preside over a section of the cubicle farm. But in reality my position is incredibly precarious. I''m an employee that had embarked on the management track, just like Wonder Boy. In fact, we joined the firm at roughly the same time as well. The difference between us is Wonder Boy had been earmarked by the executives for grooming, while I languished in administration. Things didn''t seem so bad at first, our paychecks rose at the same rate and the benefits we each received were fairly similar. But soon the differences became apparent. Wonder Boy got the good assignments while I kept slaving away in the bowels of the firm. He got the opportunities to make industry contacts while the old bitch kept insisting that I show up at the office everyday. And now Wonder Boy is made the firm''s savior while I''m staring at doom in the face. "I''m sure if we all work together, this project will be a success!" Wonder Boy declares with a beaming face, interrupting my train of thought.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Come off it. The bids haven''t been finalized yet. Though we are very close to winning it. So I guess the season of Wonder Boy will continue. As the meeting wraps up, I trudge despondently back to my office. .... Doom. A single word. Yet it means so much. Its even more scary when you know that doom is coming, breathing down your neck. You want to look away, but you can''t. And doom is coming for me. Surely, like the rising of the sun, doom comes for me. The old bitch has begun a thorough review of my performance. My friends in HR told me about it. Bitch has not found anything yet, but its only a matter of time before a mistake I committed in my work turns up. I''ve been working at this place for too long, fuck ups are inevitable. HR can only provide me with temporary cover as well. Once my protection wears off, the song and dance will begin. Bad performance reviews. The steady reduction of benefits. Then the kind offer to peacefully leave the firm in return for a favorable reference. If I resist, I could probably keep the wheels spinning for some time, but eventually I would be ''right-sized'' as HR would put in. Then where would I go? I have work experience that is common. I don''t know any industry players. I could take a lower position in another company, but that would be advertising my failure to the world. My current pay makes me an unattractive hire. My career would hit a dead end. Few options. Poor prospects. I would be nothing. A knock on my door rouses me from my ruminations. I grunt out an acknowledgement and the door opens, revealing my visitor to be Wonder Boy, with Anna standing timidly behind him. Wonder Boy smiles apologetically, "Sorry to intrude." I waive at him to get on with what he wants to say. "Well, we''re going to have a party for Anna tonight. Its her birthday you know?" Wonder Boy gently asks, "Could you, just give her a bit of time off? The paperwork can wait." I smile blandly as rage begins to fill my mind. No prospects. No respect. No future. I can''t stand it. I won''t stand for it. "Sure." I reply and go back to surfing the internet on my PC. Wonder Boy looks slightly taken aback by my easy agreement before he responds, "Uh, you''re welcome to join us as well?" "Nah. I''ve got stuff to do." I say offhandedly, "You guys have fun for me." Wonder Boy gives me a thumbs up and leaves, with Anna hopping happily behind him like a rabbit. .... I am the Lord of Administration, my loyal subjects the pens, papers and files. There is nothing within the boundary of this realm that is beyond my sight. Including the tender documents that this firm''s future hinges upon. The photocopies nestle snugly against my coat with their conspiratorial warmth. I am literally holding the fate of my co-workers in my hands. The bidding for the project is not closed yet, and I hold the keys to the proverbial kingdom. All mine to sell, to secure my future. With the tender documents, I could easily advise one of our competitors on how to win the bid. That information is at the very least worth a managerial position. Maybe even partnership. I quickly lock up the office. Everyone else had already left to attend Anna''s party, leaving me to my own devices. My spirits are high, but cold sweat runs down my back. The fear of discovery. The possibility of retribution. These things weigh down upon my mind. A treacherous thought comes to me. Perhaps I should just shred the documents when I get back home. Resign from the firm quickly and quietly. Look for new opportunities in an unrelated field. Get a fresh start. It would be difficult sure, but not impossible. And certainly preferable to watching my back all the time or living with the guilt of ruining someone else. My head feels like its about to split open. I need a drink. Preferably several. .... "Transmigrator, wake up." The Voice rasps, rousing me from my doze. I wipe the drool off my face with the sleeve of the sex offender trench coat. Damn, I had fallen asleep in the black cab while The Voice was taking me to the mission site. And I had an unwelcome dream about the past added in the bargain. I rub my eyes and try to focus, but the dream remains fresh in my mind. Before I was abducted by The Voice, I had been standing at a junction of my life. A divergence point one would say. I was split as to how to move forwards, and my cowardice was what allowed The Voice to snatch me. I wanted to deal with my problems by running away, even though the solution was within my grasp. And look where it got me. I complained to The Voice about not having power in this world, when I wielded true power in my own. I just did not have the spine to use it. But I have grown in my time here. While I will never admit it to The Voice, I have learnt much from it. The proper way of living. The courage to take what I want. A wise man once said, it is better to wrong the world, than to allow a single wrong to be inflicted on yourself. At least I think that''s what he said, I never really studied history. But the point is, that man was a winner. That was the philosophy of a winner. "I''m ready." I answer The Voice. Proof of God "Mike," Kira says over the mobile, distress evident in her voice, "I managed to contact Tensei but his schedule is too packed to meet you on the date you told me. He''s either with Inspector Scott or Sera these days. Busy with training probably." I fold my legs more comfortably while playing with a pen left on the table, considering what Kira told me. This is fine. There is still time before the contest between Tensei and his brother. If I push too hard now, Kira and Tensei might get suspicious. Gently does it. "No problem Kira. Just let me know when the beau is free." I reply from the darkness of my office, "I''ll make time for both of you." Kira cheers happily from her end of the line, "Thanks! You don''t know how much your help means to me. I hope I''m not calling too late though." I laugh, "No. Its fine. I''m still in the office anyway." "But its already dark!" Kira protests, "You should get home before its too late." Its not like I have to sleep. Staying in the office and going home really makes no difference to me. I don''t say any of that to Kira of course. "Work never ends." I tell Kira, "Anyway, I need to get back to it. Talk to you later." I sigh tiredly to myself after Kira hangs up. The work really never ends. Just when you start making headway with something, another piece of bad news slaps you in the face. I turn on the lamp on my desk and read through the report my people had sent to me on the Archmage. I really wish I didn''t need to do this, but experience has taught me that the man is deeply unreliable. Working with him was the equivalent of trying to ride a wild horse. You could get thrown off the saddle at anytime. If you were unlucky, a trampling would be added to the bargain. The SOPO bodyguard detail that I had assigned to Naiberg had reported that the man had refused to take any precautions whatsoever even after my warning that he was in danger. Naiberg had been going about his days as if nothing had changed, and tonight he was going to be showing up at a fundraiser for the College. It was at times like these that I really felt like giving the Archmage a tight slap across the face. Just because your actions have been divinely guided by milady does not give you the excuse to take no responsibility for yourself. My mobile rings again and I accept the call without bothering to check who it is, "Yes? Michael here." The person on the other side of the line speaks in a rush, clearly close to panic, "Michael, its Hartley from SOPO. Did you authorize the removal of the Perfecta from the hospital?" I blink as my mind goes completely blank upon hearing this from Inspector Hartley. There might have been a break in at the hospital, but I have made it clear that the Perfecta are not to be disturbed, not until we can find a fresh hiding spot for them. We need the Perfecta to activate the codex, so they have to be protected, regardless of the risk. "Hartley, slow down." I command, "What in the world is going on?" Hartley''s voice is a rush as he responds, "The officer I had stationed at the hospital report that around an hour ago, several coaches with their windows blacked out had arrived at the hospital. From what we can tell, the Archmage''s staff had smuggled the Perfecta out of the hospital ward and on to those coaches which have since departed. We have no idea where the Perfecta are now."Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Like I said, a wild horse. I restrain myself from screaming in frustration and say to Hartley as calmly as I can, "Perhaps the Archmage has found a more secure location for the Perfecta. If anything, his loyalty to the Goddess is not in doubt." "No. I don''t think that''s what the Archmage has in mind." Hartley''s voice is now a whisper, as if he is afraid someone might overhear us. Hartley continues, "My man at the hospital checked the medicine stocks left at the ward. Michael, the ward staff had dosed all the Perfecta with the stimulants meant to counteract the heavy sedatives the Perfecta had been put under. Whomever is moving the Perfecta out wants them to awaken." My stomach sinks at the thought of the Perfecta awakening in public. Not only are they physically repulsive, they have the minds of wild animals. It would be akin to a herd of buffalo rampaging throughout The City. Not only that, questions would start being asked about where the Perfecta had come from. It would be a complete disaster. "I need to contact the Archmage about this. Stay at your desk." I hurriedly instruct Hartley and hang up without waiting for his response. I scroll through the list of contacts on my mobile and bring up Naiberg''s number. I hope he answers. He''d better answer. "What." an irritated voice snaps at me the moment my call is accepted, "I''m going to give a speech soon. Make it fast." "Naiberg, its Michael." I say as calmly as I am able, "The Perfecta have disappeared from the hospital." Naiberg replies in an amused tone, "I know. I was the one that ordered them brought to me." "Are you crazy?" I yell, "What if anyone sees them? How are you going to explain that?" Naiberg laughs, a sick, miserable sound, "I won''t need to. The goddess will provide, will she not? Or are you doubting the ability of your precious lady?" Before I can slap Naiberg down for his insolence, that mean, taunting voice presses on, "I know why I cannot complete the Perfecta project Michael. And if my guess is right, we will never create our perfect being without taking drastic action. Drastic action which I am setting into motion right now." "What drastic action?" I demand, biting back another shout, "I''ve provided you all the test subjects and funds you requested. Stop giving excuses Naiberg! You disgrace milady with your failure!" Another laugh from Naiberg, this time loaded with malicious enjoyment, "The Perfecta are all broken because your lady''s power is not absolute. There is another force actively interfering with the transformation process. When the Perfecta''s soul reaches its maximum state of purity, its body begins to break down. The fusion between the three forms is managed in the most backwards and impractical way possible. Its almost as if there is a self-destruct sequence built into our bodies that triggers the moment we seek to draw closer to the goddess, isn''t there?" I swallow hard and reply sternly, "I''ve told you about the Tyrant. The coward that strikes from the shadows. Now explain what''s going on." Naiberg now adopts a conspiratorial tone with me, "Yes, the Tyrant. You also told me that we are all the children of the goddess. My experiences with the goddess have confirmed that piece of intelligence as well. But that''s not completely true isn''t it? The Perfecta prove that the Tyrant does have some kind of claim on us, no matter how much we try to deny it." "What are you intending?" I hiss, fear crawling up by spine. "I wonder." Naiberg hums, "If the Tyrant has a claim on us as well, would it mean that the goddess is not as infallible as I had been led to believe? Are our paths in life set in stone by the will of the goddess or not? Curious. And I intend to find out." Naiberg now grows serious, deadly serious, "An experiment is in progress Michael. I have set the Perfecta loose in order to ascertain whether the goddess is truly the patron of our races she claims to be. Whether or not unity is our real end state. There is a man who has devoted himself fully to the Tyrant." "The blackguard." I confirm, "You know he hunts you, right?" "Yes. Your blackguard is in the same building as I am right now." Naiberg sneers, "He thinks he is hidden, but I have known of his presence ever since the event started. He will be part of my great experiment to the question of where our destiny truly lies. Look forward to the results Michael. It will be illuminating, one way or the other." The line goes dead. I need to call Hartley quickly so that he can scramble a team to where Naiberg is right now. Should I accompany SOPO as well? We could end the blackguard, right here, right now, with the blessing of milady. My hand reaches for the phone again. Its going to be a long night. High Society "Unity College sure has generous donors." I comment while walking towards the entrance of the Hotel Metro. The joint looked more like a palace than an actual hotel, with the glass doors of the main entrance flanked by a quartet of stone pillars, each topped with a statue of an underage nudist. If the College was shelling out to hold their fundraiser at such a posh joint, the governors had to be confident that they could make the money back. Not that The Voice and I had any intention of donating a single red cent. The reason we dropped by was because Hobo Beard''s a guest of honor of this shindig and we wanted to invite him back with us for a frank and friendly exchange of ideas. The Voice had parked the cab just outside the hotel compound, which was separated from the main road by a massive decorative stone arch leading to the courtyard where the main entrance is located. The courtyard is richly adorned with greenery, most likely magically enhanced given the fact that none of the plants were dying in the middle of winter. The courtyard had also been turned into an ad-hoc parking area, with luxury sports cars and oversize limos casually sprawled about, tended to by the hotel''s valets. "Shit, one of the those cars would set me back a year''s pay back home." I mutter while flexing my right arm experimentally. Its nowhere near full strength, but at least it no longer doubled as dead weight. The Voice rasps, "The Metro is a very exclusive establishment aimed at a very discerning clientele. That can be said for most of the resorts in the Charlie Mountain District though." "They actually carved out a mountain range and bolted it to The City." I remark while taking a glance at the said mountain range that gave the district its name looming behind the hotel, "Still can''t get over the fact that the folks here went through the trouble to do all that." "The mountain range serves as a psychological barrier, keeping the riff raff out of the district." The Voice rumbles, "Only people of taste and wealth are welcome here." "The district is still linked to The City as a whole by highway and mag rail though." I point out, "Not much of a barrier if you ask me." "The people who work here do need a way to actually show up for work." The Voice says, "Not that they are particular welcome in any case." I join the throng of extravagantly dressed men and women filing through the Metro''s main doors, feeling extraordinarily seedy. Compared to their get ups, my sex offender outfit makes me look downright disreputable, probably even borderline criminal. But other than some looks of disgust and averted gazes, no one challenges my presence here. Security is really light as well, I don''t see any guards at the entrance other than a few members of the hotel''s staff. Say what you like about the sex offender trench coat, it does the job of getting people to look away. The only real issue was that I had to limit myself to the gear I could hide under the trench coat. That meant that the grenade launcher was out. We needed Naiberg alive to interrogate him about the soul extraction process, so that meant no revolver. The only heat I packed with me was a freshly spawned stun baton and the stun gun. Oh, and several hypodermic needles loaded with one of the drugs found in the hospital ward. After analyzing the drugs that I had recovered, The Voice had concluded that one of the drugs was a fentanyl derivative, formulated as a powerful sedative. This was probably the stuff that was used to knock out Freak Show and friends back at the hospital. The other drug was a stimulant, to rouse them from their stupor quickly if need be. Since the sedative seemed like a good addition to my arsenal for this mission, The Voice promptly spawned several hypodermic needles worth for my use. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Best case scenario being I jab Hobo Beard with one of these needles and drag him to the cab once he falls into a stupor. Neat and clean. Though I doubt things are going to be so easy, based on past experience. I shuffle along with the crowd towards the ballrooms where the fundraiser is being held and flash the invitation card The Voice had spawned for me back at the hideout at the concierge stationed at the ballroom''s double doors. The concierge merely frowns at my state of dress and waives me through. So far so good. Unfortunately, actually getting me a seat at the fundraising dinner was out of the question. The College would immediately notice an alteration to the guest list and my presence would be immediately detected. It looks like there would be no dinner for me tonight. Nevertheless, having access to the ballroom was an important advantage to have, if only to check on whether Hobo Beard was actually present. And there he is, lounging back in his chair at the VIP table with a look of total boredom on his face. Occasionally I see him make a slight smirk at nothing in particular, but otherwise Hobo Beard doesn''t seem to be doing anything much. The only real thing of interest are the pair of SOPO officers decked out in their full regalia hanging around Hobo Beard''s table. Bodyguards probably. A quick check of their spirit cores confirms that these guys have not been enhanced. Hobo Beard''s not important enough to get the upgraded SOPO muscle? I discreetly head towards the corner of the ballroom and draw a spy cam from the pockets of the trench coat. Ensuring that this spot provides maximum coverage for the camera, I quickly slap the spy cam onto the wall. "I have eyes on the Archmage." The Voice confirms. With that, I quietly slip out of the ballroom, with no one the wiser. .... I''ve made myself comfortable on a couch near to the hotel''s reception area, ostensibly reading the evening paper. From what The Voice has been telling me, Hobo Beard has just been sitting in the ballroom stuffing his face with food and spacing out due to the boredom. A very sedate mission so far. My best chance to perform the snatch would be when Hobo Beard leaves, probably when he is close to his car. Rush Hobo Beard and jab him with a needle, then take out the bodyguards. Or maybe I should make my move while he is being jostled around in the crowd? The Voice suddenly announces, "Transmigrator, something has happened at the hospital. The patients at the ward we investigated are being loaded into four coaches." "Hobo Beard''s doing?" I hazard a guess. "Most likely." The Voice rasps, "I observed him sending a message from his mobile just now. Unfortunately I could not track the number that he was using or sending to in the time available, making intercepting the message impossible." "Cleaning his tracks." I say, "Probably getting rid of the evidence. Do you have your drones recording all this?" "Of course." The Voice sniffs, "Archmage Naiberg is mistaken if he thinks that he can evade my scrutiny so easily." The night continues to pass peacefully while I pretend to read my paper. Until The Voice makes another sudden observation. "Archmage Naiberg has left his seat and is leaving the ballroom with his bodyguards in tow." The Voice rumbles, "Something is happening." I put down the paper and retrace my steps towards the ballroom. As I arrive, I see Hobo Beard disappear around the corner of a corridor heading to the washroom while holding a mobile to his ear. A confidential call then. The bodyguards take up positions at the corridor''s junction, giving Hobo Beard his privacy. Wonderful. I can grab Hobo Beard right now. No fuss and no muss. I draw a pair of syringes from the trench coat, holding one in each hand. I faintly hear bits and pieces of the conversation on Hobo Beard''s end. Something something illuminating? Whatever. As the expression on the bodyguards'' faces twist into looks of disgust at the sight of me, I activate the artificial core and charge forward, stabbing at their necks with the needles. Before the bodyguards can react, the needle sink into their skin, pumping them full of sedative. The bodyguards'' faces become slack and listless before they collapse to the ground like a pile of wet noodles. I draw a fresh needle for Hobo Beard and gently open the door to the gents. I don''t see him inside though. Hobo Beard must be the kind of guy who likes taking a dump after a call. Well, I would rather not catch Hobo Beard with his pants down, but if that''s what it takes, then that''s what it takes. I open the door to the first stall. No one there. The second. Also no one. Then the third and the fourth. No one. Absolutely no one. Hobo Beard had disappeared. Eye Of The Storm Impossible. Hobo Beard had entered the gents, that much is clear. He could not have slipped past me and left through the door either. That means Hobo Beard is either hiding himself in the washroom, or there must be a route here that allowed him to slip away. Both possibilities are not particularly reassuring, since that means that Naiberg is on to me. Things might get rough when I try to apprehend him. I activate the artificial core and scan the gents for anything suspicious. No movement, but I sense the presence of fabric, wool, linen and cotton to be more specific, somewhere in one of the stalls I had already checked. Must be from Hobo Beard''s clothes. That confirms it, Hobo Beard was here just a few moments ago. I return to the stall where I detected the clothes and give it another round of scrutiny. Bending down and inspecting the toilet itself, I find a stack of neatly folded clothes wedged behind the base of the urinal. A slightly salty smell rises from the floor and I note a transparent slickness running from the ground and up along the wall. The odd trail leads to the vent of a disabled extractor fan where it disappears. Leaving the stall, I check the switches located on the wall of the gents and sure enough, the switch for the extractor fan is there, turned off. I recall my fight with Chance, who was bouncing about the battlefield thanks to her ability to alter her body. Damn, this mission just became a lot more complicated. "I think Hobo Beard went full nudist and shape shifted through that vent." I tell The Voice, "Can you track him?" The Voice rasps, "I am trying to, but cannot seem to get a firm lock on the Archmage. He must have dropped most of the inanimate matter on his person before fleeing. I know Archmage Naiberg is still somewhere in the vents, but his exact location is not known to me." I head back out of the gents and proceed towards the Metro''s foyer since this is where the elevators and fire escape staircases are located. Hobo Beard can''t hide in the vents forever. Sooner or later he is going to have to come out, and I can access almost any location in the hotel from the foyer. "Keep watch on any possible exit points." I say, "I should be able to catch up to Hobo Beard with the core activated." "We have other problems." The Voice rumbles. I hide behind a staircase and hiss, "What now?" Don''t want to be making a scene here. The Voice continues worriedly, "I have been eavesdropping on SOPO HQ and Representative Michael has instructed SOPO to send a strike team to the Metro. They know you are here Transmigrator, and intend to take this opportunity to end you. You may not have the time to hunt for the Archmage before SOPO arrives." "Shit." I curse, "Is that Hobo Beard''s plan? Hide and wait for SOPO to show up?" Should I play it safe and pull out? But there might not be another chance to snatch Naiberg. "That''s not all." The Voice pronounces, "The four coaches that the patients from the ward were loaded into have arrived at Charlie Mountain District. The coaches have been parked at the Grand Boulevard just outside the Metro and the drivers have abandoned the vehicles."A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "You sure?" I ask while going to the main entrance to take a look at whats going on outside. Sure enough, just beyond the Metro''s stone arch are the four coaches The Voice had been talking about. But nothing is happening. The coaches are just parked there, as if they had been ferrying a tour group. "Nothing''s happening." I comment, "No mutants rampaging through the streets or any other weirdness." Something is certainly up though, otherwise the drivers would not have made themselves scarce. "I have located the Archmage." The Voice informs me, "He has emerged from the vents and is now wandering around the roof completely naked." Awesome. I head back to the elevators and right on cue, the doors of a waiting lift swing open to grant me entry. The moment I step in, the doors shut and the lift starts to rise without any input from me. "I am sending you to the top floor of the hotel." The Voice says, "The roof access staircase is located there. Be careful." .... I take a deep breath once I reach the top of the roof access staircase. Beyond the locked door in front of me will be Hobo Beard himself, wandering about buck naked in all his old, wrinkly, slightly overweight glory. It would be hilarious if this scenario did not present further complications for myself. I was going to need to think of a way to stuff a naked man into the black cab without anyone objecting. Hopefully the trench coat can fit Hobo Beard and save the people around us from having their mind scarred. I draw the stun gun and kick the door open, hoping to catch Hobo Beard by surprise. As I emerge into the dusk of a cold evening, I see Hobo Beard looking over the roof''s safety railing without a care in the world, his back facing me. His spirit core glows gently, pressure pulsing out in waves. I level the stun gun at the old nudist''s back and fire both sets of prongs at him. Hobo Beard''s core immediately flares and a solid wall of spirituality is erected around his body, blocking the stun gun''s prongs. As the prongs clatter uselessly to the ground, Hobo Beard slowly turns to face me with a malicious look on his face. Hobo Beard gives me a nasty grin and he intones, "I give easement and rest now to thee, child of the goddess. Travel no longer down the path which ends at the barren clearing, for I shall bear the burden of your sin. Find peace within me." Hobo Beard''s spirit core abruptly contracts and a feel a massive pull being emanated from him. I stumble slightly from the sensation and Hobo Beard''s face glows with pleasure at the sight. His core keeps contracting, the force of the pull growing steadily stronger. I roll my eyes at the sight of Hobo Beard''s spell and activate my core to resist. Is this the great secret behind the soul extractions? Really? Hobo Beard''s core shrinks to the size of a speck and a vortex of suction tears away at my own artificial core. But it accomplishes squat, as I expected. I draw one of the needles and begin advancing on Hobo Beard, intending to put an end to this farce. On the other hand, Hobo Beard is positively delighted that I am able to resist his attack as the suction force dies down and his face splits into a disgusting leer. "Do you believe in intelligent design, Mr Gallant?" Hobo Beard asks, as he erects another one of his spirit barriers, cutting himself off from me. "Sure why not? There are gods in this world after all." I reply casually as I begin punching the barrier in order to cause it to fall. It wavers for a few moments, but that moment of weakness passes once Hobo Beard pours more of his spirituality into it. "Yes!" Hobo Beard exclaims, "Gods. Plural. Equals in other words. Totally unlike that garbage Michael has been trying to feed me. Now, what do you think about the concept of balance, Mr Gallant?" I stop pounding away at the barrier for a moment as the question takes me by surprise. "Balance is good, I suppose?" I reply, completely befuddled at what Hobo Beard is getting at. "Good. Good." Hobo Beard says, "You really are the key. The one who will complete my Perfecta." "Just as my Perfecta will complete you." Sins and Sinners Once, back when I was still living on earth, my earth that is, I accompanied a couple of college mates to visit a nudist colony on a lark. We spent the journey there sniggering like loons and going ''huh, huh, huh, nooods'' as if we were about to visit an alien city or something similarly outlandish. The reality was far more disappointing. In turns out that nudists, once you put the nudity aside, are pretty much the same as anyone else. The so-called colony was just a bunch of guys sunbathing and generally chilling out with no clothes on. And given the fact that many of the men and women there were old and overweight, the visit was also far less titillating then one would have hoped. So the big lesson I learned that day was that nudists were normal people, just like you and me. How I wish that lesson applied to the nutcase standing in front of me right now. The leering expression, the wild look in his eyes and the overexcited voice, all of that told me one thing. Hobo Beard was broken, broken in the head. The fact that he was popping a boner while talking to me probably also didn''t help. This was not a man you wanted to hear talking about ''completing'' you. I grimace and start pounding away again at the barrier Hobo Beard had set up to separate us. The faster I can shut this guy up the better. "You''re not curious as to how I managed it?" Hobo Beard asks, "How I created the Perfecta?" I pause for a moment and reply, "I can make a pretty good guess as to how you did it. You extract souls by compressing your spirit core to increase its effective density and forcing a connection with your victim''s own core. This allows you to pull chunks out of your victim''s core, eventually killing them." "What I don''t get is how you managed to fuse souls together." I say between punches against the barrier, "The chunks you tore out of your victims should have been destroyed by contact with your own core." Hobo Beard nods delightedly at my explanation and I sigh inwardly. If my guess is correct, that means Hobo Beard''s method is completely useless to me. I can''t very well compress the artificial core to force out Gallant''s soul fragment. As far as my own conundrum was concerned, Hobo Beard was a false hope. Hobo Beard''s eyes narrow and he laughs, "You seem experienced in this sort of thing. Engaged in some experimentation of your own perhaps?" I shrug noncommittally and kick the barrier. Its holding strong, regardless of the damage I deal to it. How much spirit energy does Hobo Beard have? "Poor Trietel. But at least he died doing what he loved doing most, teaching." a look of harsh glee crosses Hobo Beard''s face, "Though you''re missing the forest from the trees Mr Gallant. The real secret is how to prevent the destruction of the souls you extract." At this pronouncement, I halt my attack completely. Hobo Beard might not hold the key, but his knowledge might point me in the right direction. I would do well not the dismiss what he has to say altogether. Hobo Beard''s face then morphs into a faux pitying look, "A pity that I am never going to tell you though! Ha!" Bloody troll. I roll my eyes at the man and reply scornfully, "You don''t need to. Just because I don''t know the answer doesn''t mean I can''t make an educated guess." "Oh?" Hobo Beard smirks, "Guess away then, Mr Gallant. If you''re correct, I see no reason not to admit as much." I fold my arms and challenge, "Density. It all boils down to density at the end of the day. When I tore pieces out of Trietel''s core, they were crushed under the weight of my own since each individual soul piece I seized from Trietel was small and weak. You have a way of digging out large, heavy core pieces that can survive contact once you absorb them." I point my finger accusingly at Naiberg, proclaiming, "I recognized that chant you used against me as well. You''re a sin eater aren''t you? That spell allows you to bear wholesale the sins of whomever you''re targeting. And the vector of transmitting the sins to you is the target''s spirit core. As long as you bear their sins, those sins serve as the cement that binds the core fragments to you. Am I correct?"This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Naiberg starts and for a brief moment, his expression grows genuinely friendly. That passes quickly and he is back to sneering at me soon enough. "A fellow scholar of the old traditions." Naiberg muses, "I never though I''d see the day." I squint as a bright spotlight shines upon the roof. Shielding my eyes and looking up, I see a helicopter buzzing high above both of us. The helicopter is not armed, so could it be a news team? That''s not good. An alert must have already been sounded at the hotel and the clock is ticking down. And that''s not accounting for the incoming SOPO strike force that had been dispatched before Naiberg started walking about naked on the roof. My escape is going to be troublesome to say the least. I focus back on Naiberg and elaborate, "Stuff like this is preserved as cultural heritage back home. Don''t need to be a scholar to have a passing knowledge of this kind of thing." Naiberg gives me an odd look and the scornful expression on his face disappears. His next statement comes out as probing and cautious, "Very good, yes. Some small details aside, your guess is largely correct. Now, tell me, do I bear the responsibility for my acts?" "What? You crazy? Of course you do." I snap at the absurdity of Naiberg''s question. Naiberg scoffs, "You''re giving an easy answer without considering the question. We are all part of the grand design, and are obliged to play the roles we are provided with. Just as the goddess guided me towards secret knowledge, and I spread that knowledge among her believers. Can any of us truly be held responsible for being cogs in a great machine we hardly know anything about?" Naiberg''s eyes shine with desperation. For some reason he wants my real, honest answer to this question. And I think I know why. Naiberg has parted the veil. He knows the truth, perhaps not the whole truth, but the truth that this reality is governed by routes. I don''t know how he worked this out, but it would explain why he is so unstable. But why does he attach so much value to the answer from a rando who wants to abduct him? "How many have you killed?" I ask bluntly. Naiberg voice is flat, but his eyes take on even greater intensity, "I lost count. During the war, I would harvest entire camps filled with refugees and POWs. They live on within me now. So don''t bother trying to break my barrier, Mr Gallant. I have a literal army holding it up." "And the people you taught your technique?" I press, "How many did they kill?" "Who knows?" Naiberg dismisses, "Many. If you want an answer. Very many." "The Perfecta?" I query, to satisfy my curiosity. "Acolytes walking the path of the goddess, armed with the knowledge I taught them." Naiberg answers, "But then something happened. The path took them somewhere it should not have." Was that the incident that caused Naiberg to have second thoughts about his role in the greater nature of things? It sounds likely. "Your daughter." I blurt out in a burst of inspiration. Naiberg is shocked at the sudden turn in the questioning and is speechless for several moments. When he finally speaks, its as if he is close to tears, "I didn''t want things to turn out the way they did. My wife was sick, and all I wanted was to keep her with me. I thought she could live on in my daughter. That idea kept creeping up on me. Always somewhere in the back of my mind." So that''s what happened. I understand now. I almost ask Naiberg how in the world he got away with wiping out entire camps of people, but I stop myself upon realizing that its a question that entirely misses the point. If he has been set on a route by Fate, then things would naturally work out in the way Fate had determined. The very fact that Naiberg could accomplish something so unlikely would be further proof that his actions were driven primarily by Fate. The close proximity Naiberg has with Fate''s minions is just the clincher. Naiberg spent his whole life being maneuvered by Fate so that he could fill a role and tamper with Magic Police Girl. Does a pawn following his orders bear responsibility for his actions? Even if that pawn literally cannot rebel? The villain in a play or VN merely plays a role. His likes or dislikes do not factor into anything. He does what he does, because the writer said so. No more and no less. Action and Intention. Both contribute to the act in question. How can the scales be balanced when the intention is bogus? "You would be held responsible if your goddess lost." I say. Its the best answer I can give. And most importantly, its the truth, which is what Naiberg wants. Someone has to hold the bag at the end of the day. Even if it is unfair. Especially if it is unfair. Naiberg graces me with a real smile, not one of his smirks. "Yes." he confirms, "That is the truth of this world isn''t it?" I nod, "Both of us have crossed the river halfway. There is no point in turning back now, regardless of what we feel." Sirens sound in the distance. SOPO must almost be here. Naiberg regretfully exhales a breath saying, "Our time together is almost up. Now, let the experiment begin." Body and Soul Peering over the roof''s safety railing, I notice that the four coaches parked at the Grand Boulevard have begun rocking about with ferocious energy. Its almost as if there is a sex orgy going on in each of the coaches. A loud banging noise comes from each of the coaches coupled with the occasional muffled animalistic scream. I raise an eyebrow and confront the nudist in front of me again, "I hope you don''t plan on unleashing your freak show. The last I checked, those cut-rate duplicates of the precursors were all deformed and crippled." Naiberg smiles, "Wonderful! So you know what the Perfecta are. Then I can go straight into why your presence is required." He continues, "By forcing a union between the souls of each of the separate three species, it results in the destruction of the original three components and a new, pure soul is birthed within the Perfecta. Michael claims this is the soul of our ancestors. I have no idea whether or not that''s true, but whatever the case, the newly born soul is an extraordinarily powerful one." That''s true. I recall the spirit cores of the freaks I saw at the hospital. Their spirit cores were exceptionally clean, exerting almost zero pressure. "A crucible." I guess, "That''s what the Perfecta are. By combining the three souls together you trigger a reaction where all the impurities within the separate souls are purged, leaving behind the newly born pure soul." Naiberg affirms my guess with his trademark smirk, "Not bad. You might have had a future as my assistant. Anyway, the problem afflicting the Perfecta is that as the soul begins to purify, the body degrades. The Perfecta is forced to assume a wholly nonviable physical form comprising of the base traits of the three races. Many of the early Perfecta died in this way, as their bodies collapsed from the strain the transformation subjected them to." A light bulb goes off in my head and I remark, "That''s why you sedate the Perfecta. As long as they are not conscious, the transformation is slowed." No wonder nobody at the hospital gave a shit about the freaks. All of them were effectively dead men walking. Or sleeping. However you want to look at it. The place was no different from death row. "Michael and I hoped to find a cure for the Perfecta." Naiberg rambles on, "They need to be complete in both body and soul before they can be deployed for their intended purpose." "Couldn''t your Perfecta just reinforce their bodies with magic in order to survive?" I quiz, "With the strength of their cores, it shouldn''t be impossible. Then you can surgically remove the extra, uh, parts." Instead of answering, Naiberg turns back to looking over the roof at the Grand Boulevard below. Taking his hint, I shut my mouth and turn my attention back to the four coaches rocking frantically about. One of the coaches abruptly blazes with pure spirit energy and a giant distorted limb punches its way out of the coach''s roof. Like a cocoon, the coach tears open revealing a pulsing mass of flesh, bearing itself up using a twisted forest of arms and legs. Innumerable heads from multiple different people hang off the mass of flesh, snapping and cursing at each other while their dead eyes scan the area. Animal body parts are sprinkled haphazardly across the misshapen form, with claws, horns, fur and beaks jostling for space. A pair of giant angel''s wings unfurl from the monstrosity''s back and flap powerfully, radiating a broken halo. But before the beast can achieve flight, one of the wings snaps off with a spray of blood, causing the monster to unceremoniously belly flop out of its metal womb and it squirms about in the dirt snarling. The beast''s core blazes in response and as the broken wing quickly regenerates. But I realize that even as the beast is thrashing about, its living on borrowed time. The beast''s core, while impressively strong, is funneling most of its energy in keeping its body from falling apart. Small cuts and tears appear across the monster''s body every time it moves. These minor injuries are healed almost instantaneously, but cause the monster''s core to dim ever so slightly. Its as if the beast is at war with itself. The fire that burns twice as bright only lasts half as long. Its only a matter of time before the monster''s core is exhausted and its body breaks apart completely. So that''s why surgeries were not the solution. A Perfecta''s body is always on the verge of failure. The beast turns, slavering, at the remaining three coaches, and its twisted limbs extend outwards, tearing away at the other metal cocoons. From the coaches, the beast pulls out three massive writhing pupae which it splits open with the assortment of horns and claws on its body. A combination of sludge and flesh spill out of the broken pupae and the multifarious heads of the monster dig into the disgusting slurry, downing it with relish. As the beast devours its meal, it also absorbs the spirit cores of its former comrades, topping up its own fading nimbus in the process. Sin eating. The Perfecta were born through this process, and they are trying to survive by going back to the tried and true. That was probably how the beast was created in the first place. The freaks were revived, locked in the coach and allowed to go at each other. In order to survive, they resorted to cannibalism, giving birth to that monstrosity. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. "Its not going to work." I comment to Naiberg, "Your monster''s body is just going to fail again after the fresh spirit energy is exhausted." Naiberg turns back to me as the beast''s body begins to expand from eating all that disgusting meat. New faces and limbs begin to form across the beast''s bulk, adding to the horror of the entire scene. Does each set of face and limbs represent a soul that had been eaten? Not that it really matters. Looking at the tourists and locals of the district fleeing for their lives, I doubt anyone is really interested in the answer. The nudist''s breathing begins to quicken as he says, "Power. The Perfecta need a power source that can support their body indefinitely. I saw your fight against Master Chance, the amount of damage your body could receive. You could restore my Perfecta to balance. You could become perfect with them." I unconsciously take several steps backwards, trying not to look at Naiberg''s trembling, erect penis. I shake my head and dismiss his insane offer, "No, absolutely not. Anyway, didn''t you see me bleeding everywhere during the fight with Chance? Your idea wouldn''t work anyway." Naiberg smiles and scratches his belly, "That''s because you are not in balance either Mr Gallant. I can sense the weakness of your soul, juxtaposed with the massive stain on it from the power you wield. Or is that even your soul in the first place?" I narrow my eyes dangerously, "What are you talking about?" Naiberg grins, a lunatic expression, "Come off it. Since when has sin eating been part of our cultural heritage? You''re not from around here aren''t you? I''m betting that the person I''ve been speaking to is not even Mr Gallant in the first place." I grimace at this taunt but stay silent. Naiberg takes this as his opportunity to keep selling his dubious offer to me, "Come now. Wouldn''t my Perfecta be a far better host than the one you are currently inhabiting? Don''t tell me you''re not tempted." I let my disgust show on my face and snap, "No. Stop talking. Now." Naiberg claps his hands delightedly, "Well then, it looks like the experiment will have to proceed. You see Outsider, the goddess has decreed that the Perfecta are to be born, no matter what. You, the Tyrant''s representative, resist bringing about the goddess''s decree into reality. We have a clash of interests here." "I want to know whether the goddess''s decree is truly absolute. If it is, your resistance here means nothing and I am absolved of responsibility for all my deeds." Naiberg pauses for a moment, his voice heavy, "If not, well, we will just have to see." I comment, "You want to test whether your deeds were determined by the route you were set on or whether or not you are just a crazy nut." "How boorish," the nudist scoffs, "but yes, that is the aim of this experiment. I have brought about this conflict so that the wills of both the goddess and the Tyrant will directly clash. There is no clever subversion here. It only ends with the unequivocal defeat of one party, you or the Perfecta." Naiberg''s gut begins to quiver like a mound of jelly as his spirit core surges. A wet sucking sound comes from the nudist''s body and his belly fat begins churning about hypnotically. I see a small piece of Naiberg''s core break off and settle between the mounds of fat being stirred about. The core fragment draws the fat towards it and Naiberg''s belly bloats in an obscene mockery of pregnancy. Naiberg''s face is red as he huffs and puffs, sweating from the exertion of whatever in the world he is doing. Naiberg arches backwards, letting out a groan as if he was in the middle of taking a really big shit. His belly vibrates, as if there is something pushing hard against it from the inside. As Naiberg''s groaning reaches a crescendo, a third arm emerges from the churning vortex of fat, blazing with spiritual energy. The arm has been crudely formed, with molten flesh still dripping off, beckons at me in hideous mockery. I am also sure from the size of the new third arm that it originally belonged to a woman. Naiberg''s core fragment has been completely consumed by the process of creating this deranged appendage. No. Its more like this arm was unpacked from the core fragment that Naiberg had broken away. "A gift from me to you, Outsider." Naiberg moans in the most skin crawling fashion possible, "To send you on your way." The barrier that had been keeping the two of us apart abruptly vanishes and the arm shoots forward towards me, extending like a rubber band being pulled. Taken by surprise by this sudden turn of events, I am left standing completely stunned as slender, half formed fingers brush across my chest. I grab at the arm to fend it off but its already too late. A rush of spiritual energy impacts against me, attempting to invade my core. It feels as if an oil slick had been spilled on to my core, with the greasy filth spreading everywhere, trying to suffocate me. While I struggle against this sensation, Naiberg''s third arm dissolves into a formless mass in my hands, globules of fat running through my fingers, the spirit energy animating it gone. I immediately blaze the core to fight off the invasion of the foreign spiritual energy. The warmth in my chest builds the metaphorical oil slick in my soul promptly catches fire. As the pollutants burn away, I brush my hands clean off the muck draw the baton from my coat. "Nice try. That how you fed your wife to your daughter?" I ask. Naiberg clicks his tongue, "The souls I absorb become a part of me you know. Even after I gift the spirit fragment to someone else. I was hoping to collect data on you this way, but you are so terribly uncooperative." "So that means your daughter and Tensei..." I begin to ask, but the nudist cuts me off. "Yes. I never realized my daughter could be so unrestrained. She took that from her mother." Naiberg says with a leer, his member trembling at the memory. Gross. Time to end this. I rush forward before Naiberg can redeploy his barrier and slam the baton with all my strength into his head. I feel the skull crack and Naiberg wobbles for a moment before grabbing my arm with one of his hands. Naiberg''s fractured skull rapidly regenerates as a piece of his spirit core breaks off and dissipates. The nudist''s leer grows even wider as he regards me. "Didn''t I say its pointless?" Naiberg taunts, "I have an army at my back after all." His entire body ripples and hands, more than I can count, burst from the folds of his skin and grapple me. Naiberg''s core erupts and the clawing hands lift me clean over his head in a military press before I can even react. And I am sent flying off the roof, towards the carnage below. The Getaway Redux Ugly inside and out. That''s the best description of Naiberg. No wonder the sex offender trench coat did not work on him. That guy probably sees something far more worse every time he steps into the bathroom. Anyway, now that I have been sent tumbling over the roof, it might be a bit late for second guessing. I can beat myself up once the crisis has been dealt with. I activate the core and my body begins to execute a flip in order to break the fall once I make landfall. My feet hit the ground hard, causing a jolt of impact to travel up my spine and a spiderweb of cracks to spread across the asphalt. I quickly coil up to perform a roll, dissipating the remaining force of the drop and come face to face with the snarling horror that is still in the process of messily devouring its meal. Face to some of its faces at least. This is the first time I have seen something that had several faces growing out of its ass. The ass faces squint and growl at me, but the beast is thankfully too preoccupied with chowing down to do anything else. Just as I am contemplating what to do next, the blare of klaxons sound throughout Charlie Mountain and the noise rapidly spreads throughout the entire City. "Transmigrator, fall back while the Perfecta is distracted." The Voice instructs, "I have summoned the cab to retrieve you immediately." I need no further urging and break into a run, dashing down the road leading away from the Grand Boulevard. In the distance, I see the black cab storming its way towards me, a stark contrast to almost every other vehicle desperately trying to get as far away as possible from the beast. From my back comes the blood curdling sound of chewing and the smacking of lips from the Perfecta. It must be really getting into its meal. "The klaxons are your doing?" I hastily ask while sprinting towards the approaching cab. "Yes." The Voice confirms, "I have used my control over the Sarcophagus''s systems to identify the Perfecta as an Alpha One threat to The City. The klaxons are to rally all SOPO and ORPO forces to seal this district and eliminate the Perfecta using maximum force." "That''s great," I comment, "because I think the SOPO strike force sent against me is here." I gesture using my chin at the phalanx of cop cruisers in SOPO colors making their way towards the boulevard from the opposite side. As the cop cruisers approach the heaving mass that is the Perfecta, they begin to slow, as if the drivers cannot make up their mind between pursuing me or dealing with the abomination in front of them. "Eliminating an Alpha One threat should take priority over any other orders." The Voice rasps as the cab brakes hard in front of me, allowing me to get in, "With luck we can escape from Charlie Mountain before the lock down while SOPO and ORPO engage the Perfecta." I slam the door shut and the cab speeds off towards the district exit. Turning my head back, I breathe a sigh of relief as the SOPO officers have ceased their pursuit of me and are currently hacking off chunks of meat from the Perfecta with their sabers. The Perfecta bellows in anger from the assault and its core flares, healing the wounds inflicting by SOPO instantaneously. In retaliation, the limbs of the beast clumsily lash out in the direction of the SOPO officers. Most of the SOPO officers manage to dodge, but an unlucky few are taken by surprise at the Perfecta''s sudden burst of speed and they are scooped up by the deformed hands pockmarking the monster''s body. With earsplitting wails of distress, the ensnared SOPO officers are shoved into the hungry maws of the Perfecta, their colleagues trying to cut them loose to no avail. As the officers slash furiously at the clawing hands of the Perfecta, the faces protruding from its bulk open their mouths and unleash geysers of pure spiritual energy, causing an expanding ring of white flame to erupt around the Perfecta''s body. The SOPO officers immediately attempt to retreat at this sight, but the ring of fire spreads too quickly, trapping several officers within, vaporizing them utterly. The survivors retreat back to their cars and satisfy themselves with ineffectually taking potshots at the Perfecta with their guns. "What if SOPO and ORPO cannot defeat the Perfecta?" I ask. Its a real concern. That SOPO strike team sent to deal with me is getting wrecked by the giant mutant. The Voice rumbles as it guns the cab''s engine, "Then Charlie Mountain will be depopulated. The Perfecta will devour everyone here in order to satisfy its hunger for spirit energy before its body fails completely."Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! I grimace as the Perfecta charges the cop cars, shrugging off the gunfire the SOPO officers are subjected it to. Like an enraged mammoth, the Perfecta just tramples the SOPO officers underfoot before snatching up their broken bodies to feed its hunger. "The Perfecta is going to massacre everyone at this rate." I observe, "Wouldn''t that be a problem?" "No." The Voice denies, "Remember, the only people who matter are the Hero and the Heroines, neither of whom are anywhere close to Charlie Mountain. The Perfecta is welcome to burn itself out in a fruitless struggle against SOPO and ORPO while we make our escape." Before I can reply to The Voice, I am thrown against my seat by a sudden impact of something crashing on to the bonnet of the cab. That something being a wrinkled, naked old man bearing several sets of arms. Naiberg. So he managed to catch up with me. The nudist''s core flares and several soul fragments break apart, unpacking into multiple different sets of legs that grow out of his waist like bizarre tumors. Like a demented sumo wrestler, Naiberg lifts his newly grown legs up and delivers a massive stomp into the cab''s bonnet, crushing it underfoot as the cab''s frame sags and distorts from the impact. The vehicle''s engine makes a dying noise and various warning signals blink to life on the dashboard in front of me. Naiberg turns to face me and I get a full frontal view of his insane, leering face. "Where do you think you''re going?" the nudist shrieks, "The experiment is not yet over!" Naiberg lifts his multitude of mismatched fists and brings them down on the cab''s windscreen, smashing it apart. At the same moment, the glove compartment pops open, revealing the revolver, freshly spawned by The Voice and ready for action. Ready to kill. As Naiberg attempts to manhandle me out of the vehicle through the broken windscreen, I reach out to grab the revolver and fire blindly into the writhing mass of flesh that is Naiberg''s body. The nudist''s grip on me slackens and he tumbles off the bonnet, blood flowing freely from his wounds. I can''t afford to relax though. As Naiberg had displayed earlier, fatal wounds won''t stop him. He has countless lives banked in his spirit core that can be used to revive himself. Already I see another one of Naiberg''s soul fragments disintegrating. He will be fully restored soon. I need to get on the move, now. Before the district is locked down. But as I am stumbling out of the cab, the Perfecta''s charging mass careens into both Naiberg and myself, sending both of us sprawling down the road. The monstrosity towers over the two of us, as it roars angrily from its many faces. Naiberg loses his taunting expression and grows pale at the sight of his creation confronting him while I desperately attempt to crawl away unnoticed. The Perfecta wastes no time though and reaches out with its hands, as if we were snacks for eating. A sudden inspiration hits me. The Perfecta needs souls. It ate its former comrades, then the SOPO officers. Instead of devouring the randos at the boulevard, the beast instead made a beeline for Naiberg and myself. There''s a clear pattern here. Seizing the initiative, I shut the artificial core down completely and strength immediately deserts my body. Naiberg glances at me in surprise but before he can react, the Perfecta snatches him up with its hands while ignoring me. I scoot away while Naiberg struggles fruitlessly against the Perfecta, going as far as to wedge his limbs into the mouths of the various faces trying to eat him. He flares his spirit core, reinforcing his limbs, while the Perfecta determinedly chews at his flesh, as if Naiberg was a particularly tough piece of jerky. The Perfecta is a creature of instinct, seeking out the strongest cores to devour. Now that my core is shut off, Naiberg with his army of souls are like a beacon to the Perfecta, a walking buffet for the monster. Naiberg shouts curses at the Perfecta and boils form across the pulsing flesh of the beast before the spell is washed away by the Perfecta''s pure spirituality. With desperation in his eyes, Naiberg casts his eyes upwards and his core flares once more. "Sky''s Judgment!" he shouts at the top of his voice. A vortex of energy begins to swirl among the clouds before erupting into a single bolt of lightning that slashes unerringly towards the Perfecta. The spell strikes with a blinding flash and the Perfecta screams in pain. The smell of ozone and burning skin fills the air. But when the smoke clears, the Perfecta is completely unharmed and chewing away at Naiberg as if nothing had happened. Naiberg sacrifices another soul fragment to prevent the Perfecta from chewing through his limbs, but despair is all over his face. The nudist knows that he is just delaying the inevitable. Then the monster abruptly stops chewing, and I hear a familiar noise coming somewhere from above. The shrieking of a howler monkey in heat. Naiberg''s body also relaxes as he stops struggling and both he and the Perfecta slump to the ground, powerless. The nudist''s additional limbs also disappear into the ether as the magic manifesting them dissipates. Casting my eyes upwards, I see a large transport helicopter equipped with a massive set of speakers buzzing above me. The doors of the helicopter open and a length of rope extends downwards towards the Perfecta as three figures clad in commando gear step out from the helicopter''s interior and prepare to rappel down. Squinting, I immediately recognize those pseudo commandos. Shit. Its the Hero. Plus Magic Police Girl and Brocon. My guess is that the Idol is singing from the inside of the helicopter as well. Didn''t The Voice say that these guys were nowhere near Charlie Mountain? What in the world is going on? "Transmigrator." The Voice says those dreaded words, "A crisis situation has emerged. Your intervention is required." Into The Fire "Tensei, pay attention!" I snap out of my reverie and return my focus to the scene in front of me. Sera scowls at me with her arms folded across her chest while Rose and Kira are listening to the briefing being given by Representative Michael through the headsets each of us are wearing, both to hear each other and to block out the noise of the helicopter''s engines. We had boarded the helicopter at SOPO HQ and were now making our way as the crow flies towards Charlie Mountain. From the helicopter''s window, I can make out the combined SOPO and ORPO formation made out of patrol cars and armored vehicles rushing into the Charlie Mountain District to deal with the threat that had triggered the citywide klaxons. Michael gives me an apologetic smile and asks, "Penny for your thoughts? You seem distracted." "I''m just worried about Irene, sir." I say, "Don''t mind me." Irene is somewhere down there, in the middle of the SOPO column. My mind has been thrown into turmoil lately regarding her, and its all my fault. Ever since I have started ... seeing ... Sera, I have continued meeting with Irene in private as well. And I think Irene suspects something. Just the other night, she told me that she wouldn''t mind making way if I ever met my true love. My heart broke upon hearing this statement. Does Irene think so little of me, that I would throw her aside just like that? Never. Ever since our first time together, I swore that I would take responsibility. I will never leave Irene. Just as I will never abandon Sera to her demons. Now more that ever, I must defeat Nicholas and claim my inheritance. That is the only way I can make a place for both of them, not just in my heart, but in the world as well. I clench my fist hard, my determination renewed. Rose pouts, "I thought Tensei was admiring our clothes, but it turns out he was thinking about an old woman." "No! No!" I quickly reassure, "You look great Rose. Though I have been wondering, why is our armor designed like this?" I call it armor, but what Rose, Sera and I are wearing is better described as a black skin tight body suit with an extremely sheer cut. The armor seems to accentuate our respective figures, bringing out our profiles in the most flattering light. Rose has been preening at her curves ever since donning the armor back at SOPO HQ while Sera looks embarrassed at the attention the armor draws to her well proportioned chest. Michael grins and replies, "Like it? Its a skintight advanced polymer weave. The material will protect you from the digestive juices of the Alpha One while the tight, light design enables you to move swiftly around the battlefield. The armor is hot off the fabricators at Ascension Tower, custom made for each of you." Sera grumbles while trying to hide her bosom with her arms, "Why doesn''t Kira have a set then? She''s lounging back there in casual clothes." Kira barely notices Sera''s complaint as her attention is totally consumed with staring at me. "I like the armor." she mumbles in a far off voice, drool beginning to leak from her mouth. I feel heat rise to my cheeks and lay my hands over my crotch, to the annoyance of Kira who gives a ill tempered huff. Michael gently shakes Kira by the shoulder, breaking the trance she is in to my relief. He then answers, "Kira''s place is here with me. Also be grateful that I am wearing a business suit and not the armor. You wouldn''t want to see me in that get-up." We laugh at that weak joke, some of the tension dissipating. Michael''s face then turns serious and he explains, "SOPO and ORPO will establish a secure perimeter around the Alpha One. Kira will then stun it with her magic from the helicopter. That''s the reason why she won''t need the armor." Sera fiddles with the medical injector that had been issued with the armor and remarks, "Then we are supposed to drop on top of the Alpha One and sedate it right? Why not let SOPO do it directly?"Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Michael shakes his head, "Its for their safety and yours. Our experts tell us that the Alpha One is agitated by the presence of large numbers of mages. A small elite team is the safest way of handling this matter." "Why not just destroy the Alpha One?" I ask, "Its obviously a danger to The City as a whole." "Again, for safety reasons." Michael sighs, "Fighting it would cause too many civilian casualties, and that''s not mentioning collateral damage. Sedating the Alpha One was deemed the neatest way of handling the threat. I will arrange for the Alpha One to be taken away once it has dozed off." "Don''t worry Tensei!" Kira pumps her fists in a cheer, "My magic has gotten much stronger. I should be able to keep the monster stunned long enough for you to do your part." "Thanks." I smile gratefully at Kira, "We''ll be counting on you." Rose gives an annoyed scowl at Kira before turning to me, "She''s just going to be sitting pretty up in the sky you know. There are people that are going to be fighting alongside you." Before a quarrel can break out, Michael cuts in, addressing me directly, "Tensei, thank you for agreeing to help us. I know that I promised to render aid with regards to your contest against your brother, but I am already receiving favors from you before delivering on my part. I, no, the entire City is indebted to you." Michael concludes by solemnly bowing his head at me. I shake my head vigorously, "I came on my own accord. You had originally just asked Kira to help right? No way am I going to let her face that kind of danger alone. So you don''t owe me anything." "Oh Tensei." Kira sighs, her cheeks blushed and a hand laid gently over her chest. Sera coughs and raps the scabbard of her saber against the helicopter''s deck to get our attention. "And no one here would allow Tensei to face this danger on his own right?" she says sweetly. Rose links her arm through mine and glares daggers at both Kira and Sera as she delcares, "Of course not. Tensei still needs to do his duty as part of my family." I feel my body begin to overheat from all the stares directed at me and quickly find a topic to distract everyone with, "Uh, how did the Alpha One show up anyway?" "No one knows." Michael says gravely, "Reports say it just appeared at the Grand Boulevard and began eating people. We will probably have a clearer picture once things calm down." I look out of the window again and see that the SOPO and ORPO formations have separated from each other and formed a circular cordon with both groups sealing their respective flank. And in the middle of the cordon, among the abandoned cars and fleeing civilians is a heaving lump of, what I guess is meat? "That''s the Alpha One?" I ask all the while trying to keep my bile from rising. The lump of meat thrashes about in the middle of a wide road lined with palm trees, its multiple limbs grabbing frantically at something. Multiple faces line the body of the Alpha One and it frantically tries to shove whatever in its hands into its army snapping mouths. "Father!" Sera cries in alarm as she recognizes the figure that the Alpha One is attempting to swallow. "We need to do something now!" she demands, looking squarely at Michael. Michael hurriedly nods at Kira who busies herself with the audio equipment that the helicopter is equipped with. Hopefully the boost from those massive speakers mounted on the copter''s exterior will be enough for Kira''s song to subdue the Alpha One. I then notice a man clad in a familiar trench coat crawling away from the Alpha One on all fours. Gallant. I don''t know what he is doing here, but that coward is going to abandon Sera''s dad to die. Heat fills my body, not from embarrassment this time, but from anger. Gallant is strong, I know that for a fact. But now he''s only interested in saving himself. Disgusting. Unforgivable. I shudder at the possibility that we may have some connection to each other. The melody of Kira''s song is carried away by the helicopter''s speakers and the Alpha One immediately slumps to the ground, freeing Sera''s dad from its grip. He rolls bonelessly across the road, no doubt feeling the effects of Kira''s song as well. While I am curious why Sera''s dad is naked, that question can wait. We need to sedate the Alpha One first. I nod to my friends as Michael slides open the helicopter''s door and throws down a length of rope for us to disembark. As the cold wind hits my face, Rose squeezes my shoulder and points at the scene below. Following her finger, my stomach drops at the sight of Gallant staggering towards a wrecked cab and rifling through its opened boot. That should not even be possible. The Alpha One and Sera''s dad have both been stunned by Kira''s song. Is this Gallant''s real strength? Gallant pulls out a long gun from the cab''s boot and brandishes it at the Alpha One. No! That idiot will just provoke the Alpha One into fighting. We need to stop him, now! I hook the armor''s safety harness on to the rope and slide down without hesitation. As the scenery before me blurs from the speed of my descent, I hear the loud boom of an explosion coupled with the enraged roar of the Alpha One. Late. I''m too late to stop Gallant from attacking the Alpha One. But I can still save Sera''s dad. I can still save everyone. Race To Oblivion The frag round I blasted the Perfecta with rips open a sucking, bloody wound in its flank and the beast shrieks in pain, snapping out off the coma the Idol had put it under. I quickly grab the bandoleer of grenade shells and the shin gunto from the cab''s boot, slinging both over my shoulder before flaring my core and legging it in the direction of the SOPO force. Turning back briefly, I note that the Perfecta''s core is blazing away at full intensity, its wounds from my attack already healed. Like a animal that senses blood, the monster lopes after me, completely ignoring the Hero and Heroines airdropping from the helicopter above us. "You prepared all the firepower I asked for?" I hurriedly ask The Voice. "Fragmentation shells and flash bangs right?" The Voice replies, "It is all in the bandoleer you are carrying. What is your plan, Transmigrator?" I pick up the pace as I hear the thumping sound of the Perfecta''s limbs draw closer. Damn, that thing can really move if it wants to. "We need to keep the Hero from subduing the Perfecta." I gasp as I draw more power from the core, "That means getting that freak to fight until it falls apart. I''m just managing aggro here. The Hero and Heroines are in no danger right?" "Correct. The Perfecta cannot digest the Hero and Heroines quickly enough." The Voice rumbles, "Even in the worst case scenario, they should be able to hold out until the Perfecta''s body fails completely." As we are talking, I hear the angry screeching noise coming from the idol gradually moving closer towards me. The Perfecta''s pace accordingly slows and its snarling mellows into a relaxed purr. That helicopter the Hero and friends airdropped from must be trailing us from above. Looks like I''ll need to keep blasting the Perfecta to get it to keep following me. Gritting my teeth, I quickly reload the grenade launcher with another frag round. A quick glance backwards tells me the entire story. Instead of a ferocious charge, the Perfecta is reduced to a slovenly crawl, its core sluggishly churning spirit energy. I need to keep triggering its regeneration so that the beast''s core will flare. The burst of spirit energy being released is likely what allows the Perfecta to resist the Idol''s influence. I level the grenade launcher at the mass of quivering flesh and pull the trigger. Another explosion, another cry of pain from the monster and we are back on track. The beast''s spirit core surges and white flames burst out from the rapidly healing wounds across the blast area. "You sure the Perfecta can''t be sedated as long as it is in combat?" I ask for confirmation. The Voice rasps, "As long as the Perfecta''s core expends its stock of pure spiritual energy over a certain rate, it can recover almost instantaneously from any attack. Combat is simply the easiest way to ensure the Perfecta meets that particular threshold." "Alright." I reply, "Remember, I need the flash bangs to detonate. None of that ''apologies'' bullshit, OK?" I don''t bother to wait for The Voice''s reply and perform a headlong sprint towards the SOPO line, zigzagging in and out of the impromptu barricade created by the abandoned vehicles that litter the road. The Perfecta does not bother with such subtleties and simply smashes aside the offending vehicles with its misshapen limbs. An animalistic growl filled with anticipation comes deep from within the monster''s many throats. Its a sound loaded with pent up desire. The desire to feed. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Time to give the monster a bit of a boost for the final stretch of this race. I fire the grenade launcher at the Perfecta once more and as it howls in response to my attack, I discreetly palm a flash bang from the bandoleer. Closer, I just need to get a little closer. From here I can see the SOPO officers silently staring at me as I am being chased by a giant monstrosity, not bothering to ready their weapons. That settles it, those guys want the Perfecta alive as well. Too bad your vacation is just about over, assholes. Two hundred meters to the SOPO line. Then its one hundred meters. The SOPO officers begin to shift restlessly as the Perfecta approaches their serried ranks. Armored vehicles slowly roll forward, weapons at the ready. Now! I drop the flash bang and throw myself behind a line of cars at the same time. As my body flies through the air, I shut off the artificial core and a creeping sense of weakness spreads throughout my body. Landing on the ground hard, I cover my head with my arms and shut my eyes, just in time to block the nova of sound and light erupting from the flash bang. Cries of confusion arise from the SOPO line before its silenced by the sound of a huge meaty impact.Grasping the frame of the car I am hiding behind, I raise my head and take a peek at what''s going on. Complete carnage. The Perfecta had been carried by its own momentum straight into the SOPO formation and is now acting like the proverbial fat guy at the buffet table. Its arms and legs lash out in every direction, skewering SOPO officers and cramming the bodies into ravenous jaws that pockmark the Perfecta''s body. Sabers flash and bolts of energy are flung at the rampaging beast, but the Perfecta shrugs off all damage, its spirit core blazing like a star. But even now, at the height of its strength, I can see the monster''s spirit core begin to dull on the edges, the impure souls its ingesting gradually creating a thin film of pollution around the core. The Perfecta won''t last long. Not at this rate. The beast nevertheless begins to bulk up dramatically from all the people it has been eating. It was already huge when it made contact with the SOPO line, but all the added mass it has put on makes it now look positively leviathan like. As the Perfecta''s limbs continue to pull people towards it to be devoured, it also grows continuously larger from all the meat it has already consumed. And given the sheer number of SOPO officers available, the monster is not going to run out of food any time soon. A metastasizing tumor. That''s the best way to describe what the Perfecta has become. I duck back down into my hiding space as the Hero and friends dash towards the Perfecta with their jaws hanging loose. Looks like my work is almost done here, those sedatives the Hero is carrying with him are of zero use now. All that''s left is to deal with that crazy nudist and I can call it a day. "Above you!" The Voice shouts in alarm. I look up and see a solitary figure in a business suit carrying a saber take a swan dive out of the transport helicopter. The mystery man''s entire figure bursts with spirit energy and to my horror red threads start to enshroud his form, covering the man''s body like a crimson mesh. Incarnate. As the Incarnate plummets towards me, he unsheathes the saber with a flourish and raises it high to perform a decapitating blow. I activate the artificial core and my instincts take over. With barely a thought, the shin gunto is unsheathed and the flat of its blade intercepts the Incarnate''s weapon with a shower of sparks. I am sent skidding backwards from the sudden impact but quickly regain my footing. Not wasting a breath, I throw a flash bang at the Incarnate''s feet, which obligingly goes off with an earsplitting blast. As the Incarnate stumbles backwards, trying to regain his bearings, I lunge forward, the shin gunto aimed unerringly at his throat. The Incarnate grunts in surprise as my blade bites into his throat, but I feel an unexpected resistance against my arm. No matter how much I push, I just can''t get the sword to part this guy''s neck. Looking up, I realize that the only thing resisting my sword is a single red thread between the blade''s edge and my opponent''s skin. I then notice the second odd thing about the Incarnate. The Incarnate does not have a physical body. His entire form is composed entirely out of spirit energy with the red mesh serving as a form of protection. I''ve met this man before, way back at the Squat, when he was in the company of Gallant''s sister. Before I can recall anything further, the Incarnate kicks me in the chest, separating both of us. "Representative Michael at your service." The Incarnate salutes me with his saber, "I would say its a pleasure, blackguard, but that would be a lie." The Knight and The Blackguard "Please move aside then." I request the Incarnate standing before me. "Pardon?" The blond haired man asks, naked confusion on his face. Now that both of us are standing so close to each other, I can get a better look at the Incarnate''s features. He''s middle aged, but attractive in a matured, successful sort of way. That does not mean he''s handsome though. If you walked pass this guy on a random day of the week, you probably would not give him a second glance. Bland facial features combined with a fit but slightly pudgy physique make the Incarnate look completely unexceptional. What really wins it for him is the manner in which he carries himself. That kind of confident self-assurance that a successful man has. The clearly expensive look of his clothes. His polite but firm demeanor. The Incarnate is the kind of guy who would probably attract a girlfriend much younger than himself. The charm of an older, more experienced man exemplified. "Michael, right?" I explain, "You said that you''re at my service, so I would like you to move aside." My eyes dart towards the battle between the Perfecta and SOPO for a brief moment. The Perfecta is still chowing down, and all is right with the world. A humorless laugh comes from Michael, "A comedian. Not what I expected from the Tyrant''s servant. But no, I fear that I have to disappoint." I raise an eyebrow, "You actually know who you serve. Not like Chance. So which one are you, the knight or the serving boy?" A slight gasp from Michael as he responds, "You know what I am? How?" I shrug, "There''s a bloody visual novel out there starring you pack of cucks and your goddess. It doesn''t take a genius to make the connection you know." A bright smile crosses Michael''s face as he regards me, "No one takes the legends seriously anymore, except perhaps for the people truly in the know. Not even the goddess''s devout know the true nature of my existence. I must say, it is a relief to be finally able to speak freely with someone." He salutes me again, this time with a serious expression, "Let me reintroduce myself then. I am Sir Castiel, the sword and shield of milady." "Not afraid your secret identity will be leaked, cuck man?" I question while getting into the ready stance. Michael, no Castiel, smiles gently with his own guard still relaxed, "There will be no one to leak it blackguard. Don''t bother trying to rile me up with your verbal jabs either. Unlike Enma, my hot blooded days are long behind me." I blink in surprise at Castiel''s statement. How old is he actually? He does not look much older than Chance. And why is he identifying as his ancestor instead of his actual name? "That''s pretty big talk for someone who''s hiding their real body." I remark, "Scared I''ll beat it within an inch of its life the way I thrashed your buddy Enma?" Castiel rests the tip of his saber on the asphalt and clasps both hands on its hilt before lecturing me, "I fight to achieve victory for milady. The means used are unimportant. If the methods I employ make you regard me as a coward, so be it. You are bluffing as well blackguard. You are not certain of defeating me despite your bluster." His even voice takes on a hectoring tone, "If you were confident, you would have continued your attack on me already. No, what you are trying to do is to run down the clock on the Perfecta''s lifespan, am I right? Once that happens, you will use your flash bangs to flee. How am I doing so far?"If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "Pretty good." I acknowledge, "Doesn''t mean that you can stop me though." The Perfecta bellows in the background as it continues to gorge itself, heedless of the conversation between the two of us. "I don''t need to." Castiel answers, "You forget blackguard, that I did not come to this fight alone." As if on cue, the screeching noise from the helicopter rises in intensity and the SOPO officers fighting the Perfecta start to collapse from the magical onslaught. The Perfecta roars in delight and begins to help itself to the food presented to it. But my stomach sinks as I realize what Castiel had been getting at. With the pressure taken off the Perfecta, it no longer has the need to flare its core. The Idol''s racket will eventually overcome the monster and the Hero will move in to sedate it. The Hero and Heroines remain standing some distance away from the Perfecta, unaffected by the Idol''s magic and confirming my fears. Castiel shouts at the Hero while keeping his eyes firmly planted on me, "Tensei! Wait for the Alpha One to calm down before getting close to it! Kira should be able to stun the Alpha One again soon!" Damn. I furrow my brows in consternation as I see the Hero pause at Castiel''s instruction. Brocon and Magic Police Girl are of no help either, both of them clearly taking their cues from the Hero. If this continues, Castiel will be able to retrieve the Perfecta and continue his work at unlocking the codex. The grenade launcher sways restlessly on its sling as it hangs from my shoulder and my left hand snaps out to bring it to bear against the Perfecta. But Castiel''s saber slashes upwards in a blur, cleaving the weapon''s barrel in two. As the barrel clatters to the ground, the saber''s tip points squarely at me, while Castiel all the while bears an infuriatingly confident smile on his face. "None of that, blackguard." Castiel says, "Let the boy have his moment." "Strange that you''re working with Tensei." I reply, "You know his true purpose, right?" Castiel frowns at my statement and rebuts, "Tensei is a child of the goddess, just like everyone else. I may oppose Tensei in secret, but it is ultimately for his own good. Unlike you, I seek to redeem him and bring him back to the proper path." I snort in derision and roll my eyes. Go on, tell yourself that. Castiel shakes his head in response and takes an offended tone with me, "You would doom Tensei to be murdered. Not only that, an innocent girl, through no fault of her own, would bear the sin of that murder. His children would be deprived of their father''s love and be used as pawns by the great powers. You are not in the right here blackguard. You are in no position to cast moral judgment." "And I suppose you''re doing the right thing then?" I sneer, "It just so happens that you''re helping your goddess at the same time?" Castiel goes back to smiling that insufferable smile of his, "One can do good and do well blackguard. Virtue is often rewarded in this life and the next." I bite back an insult lying on the edge of my tongue and survey the scene for any means of salvaging the situation. And what do you know, the solution is there right in front of me. Big Tits, in all her big breasted glory is lying among the comatose SOPO officers. I concentrate and fire off a mental command to the Hero. Big Tits is in danger. The Hero noticeably staggers the moment he sees Big Tits''s body in the middle of the scrum. He raises his voice and yells at Castiel, "The Alpha One is eating people, sir! We have to stop it now!" I hear Castiel click his tongue before answering the Hero, "If you provoke the Alpha One, even more people will be killed! Let Kira stun it before acting!" Who thought Big Tits becoming the Hero''s lover would pay off so quickly. I smirk and mind blast the Hero again. Your lover could die. Because of you. Because you wanted to play it safe. "Irene! No!" The Hero shrieks like a lunatic and summons a spirit sword, charging at the Perfecta and hacking furiously away at it. The beast''s core flares as its regenerative response is triggered and it begins lashing out indiscriminately at everyone around it. Brocon and Magic Police Girl rush into the fray to support the Hero as I turn my attention back to Castiel. "You were saying?" I ask, barely holding back laughter, "You forgot that Tensei thinks with his little brother, not his brain." Castiel rubs his glabella in frustration and gestures at me with his saber. "Let''s just get this over with blackguard." Pit Fighter The time for words is over. I need to take down Castiel before he interferes with the Perfecta. My sword lashes out at him in a flash and Castiel sways to the side and backtracks, opening up some space between the two of us. I pounce forward, holding my blade in a double handed grip and swing down hard before Castiel can get back into a firm stance. Castiel''s eyes widen in alarm as my speed takes him by surprise and he does not have the opportunity to dodge. The edge of my blade strikes him squarely in the forehead, but the crimson mesh that protects his form blocks my weapon once again, saving him from injury. The sudden resistance to my attack throws me off balance and as I attempt to pull my arms back into the guard position, Castiel''s saber darts forward like a metal snake, striking my side to no effect. Both of us separate again after this exchange, our eyes narrowed wholly focused on each other, while the Hero shouts his heroic nonsense at the Perfecta in the background. Concentrating, I draw a bead at the gaps between the red thread forming the protective mesh around Castiel''s body. Castiel on his part drops to a low stance, his legs tensed, ready to burst into action at a moment''s notice. His free left hand makes a taunting gesture at me, beckoning me to take my best shot at him. I crouch, and rocket forward at Castiel, the edge of my sword a missile aimed at one of the gaps between the red threads overlaying his body. Castiel''s eyes widen and his core flares with an explosion of pressure, pumping new strength into the spiritual body. His right arm swings upwards in a broad powerful stroke, but he is a moment too late. My blade passes over the rising saber and thrusts straight towards the vulnerable unprotected area over Castiel''s chest. I lean into the blow, adding my weight to the momentum of the attack, seeking to end this entire exchange in a single blow. The red threads that cover Castiel''s body however shift and contort on their own accord, intercepting my sword just as the blade makes contact with his chest. Castiel''s face is wholly expressionless, as if he knew that my sword would do absolutely squat against him. The saber continues its rise and delivers a painful slash against my outstretched arms. My own flesh holds firm though despite the discomfort and I pull in closer to Castiel with a headbutt aimed right at his chin. My blow strikes home and knocks Castiel backwards, without causing any obvious injury. I make an annoyed noise in my throat and attempt to locate any weaknesses in the shifting crimson mesh squirming against Castiel''s body. He kicks off the ground and charges me with the saber, and our weapons clash furiously, but to little effect. Castiel''s clearly an experienced fighter. Not as fast or strong as me, but he''s not making any mistakes that I can exploit. I''ve been able to hit him so far through abruptly changing the speed I move at, but Castiel has gotten wise to that tactic, and fights conservatively, always ready to reenter guard stance at a moment''s notice. More worryingly, I haven''t found a way to actually hurt Castiel. I have the sinking feeling that he has a similar power set to what I have, a kind of immunity to damage. Which would mesh nicely with why he is hiding his actual body away. The spiritual body before me simply cannot be harmed, at least not through conventional means. There must be some kind of limit to the power though, otherwise Castiel would not bother with defending himself. So that means this fight will be determined by who overdraws their power first. Unfortunately that''s not a bet I am willing to make. I have no idea about how long Castiel can endure and I''m not willing to put my own life on the line to find out. If I can''t hurt Castiel, then I''ll have to settle for the next best thing. Making sure the Incarnate cannot move about to make a nuisance of himself. I juke to the side, dropping the sword as Castiel''s saber whizzes past me and grab on to one of the abandoned cars lining the road. Surging my core, I summon my strength and swing the car like an oversized bat into Castiel''s face. Caught totally off guard, Castiel takes the car slamming into him poorly and is knocked flat on to his back. Holding the car high in the air with both arms, I flare my core again and liquid fire flows through my veins. As Castiel''s eyes regain their focus, I drop the car as hard as I can on to his prone form with a sickening crunch. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. I feel the Incarnate struggling under the metal I have buried him under as his fist shoots up through the wreck like a piston. Castiel''s outstretched arm begins to move about, opening a rent in the frame of the totaled car for him to emerge from. I quickly jump on to the top of the wreck itself and just as Castiel begins to pull himself out of the wreckage, I clamp both hands securely on to his head and begin to channel Damavand. "What are you -" Castiel blurts but quickly cuts himself off as the power that can subdue a dragon pounds remorselessly into him. The red mesh crackles angrily with power as it resists the damage caused by my spell, but I have achieved what I intended to do. The road begins to sag from the weight exerted by Damavand, as cracks appear across the asphalt. I feel a growing force coming from Castiel pushing against me and lock eyes with him. "You can''t hurt me." Castiel hisses as his own core releases a whirlwind of spiritual energy, fighting against the influence of Damavand, "Milady''s protection is absolute." "Not trying to." I grunt with exertion and unleash another wave of magic from the artificial core. This time the wreck of the car sinks several meters into the ground and the entire area around us begins to shake. The road can''t take much more of this. Its going have to give way soon. "Like you said," I whisper, blinking the sweat from my eyes, "Let Tensei have his moment, yes?" "Idiot. You''re really an idiot." Castiel curses while grabbing at my hands to try pulling me off him, "You''ll doom us both. Release me now before its too late!" I give a low chuckle and ramp up core output for the final push. "Its too late to beg you mean." I remark smugly as the wreckage of the car continues to sink into the ground. The spiderweb of cracks has now spread to cover almost the entire road. Once the road collapses, The Voice can bury both of us in the rubble. I''ll be fine, after all this is not a new experience for me. I doubt The Voice is going to be quite so gentle with Castiel though. He might be able to survive the drop, but there''s no telling when he will be dug out by rescuers. Castiel shouts in panic and frustration, "The Perfecta is attracted to magic you fool!" Yes. Duh. I roll my eyes at Castiel''s outburst. Tell me something I don''t know. "Transmigrator," The Voice rasps, "you might want to look up." What? I glance upwards as advised by The Voice while keeping my hands firmly on Castiel''s head. And see the multiple faces of the Perfecta leering unpleasantly at both of us, licking their chops hungrily. The Perfecta is completely ignoring the Hero and Heroines slashing and blasting away at its side, its arms idly fending the trio off, in favor of staring at Castiel and I. "Break your spell now." Castiel whispers urgently, "And don''t move. With luck its attention will return to Tensei and his friends." Shit. Before I can say anything, the Perfecta slams its limbs into the ground and lopes towards Castiel and I. I quickly release my grip on him and try to sprint as far away as I can while Castiel desperately tears his way out of the car I had trapped him in, cursing me for trying to leave him behind as a distraction. But the pounding footsteps of the Perfecta is too much for the abused road to bear and its surface begins to give way, opening up into a massive yawning abyss. As Castiel emerges to waist from the wrecked car, the entire vehicle tips to the side and falls into the gaping void with the Incarnate still trapped within it. The Perfecta screeches furiously as the damaged road crumbles beneath its weight. Its arms and legs dig impotently into the rubble for some kind of purchase but the Perfecta begins to slowly slide into the widening pit. "Rose! Hang on!" the Hero shouts. Turning around, I see that Brocon had gotten herself entangled within the thrashing limbs of the Perfecta is being dragged into the pit along with it. She flares her core and conjured a creeping wave of acidic rime against the Perfecta''s limbs in an effort to free herself, but the regeneration of the beast easily overcomes her spell. As a last resort, Brocon extends her hands to grab on to the Hero, but its too late. She falls out of sight, leaving the Hero dumbly grasping at air. Better get to slaying the beast Hero. The life of your lady depends on it. Well, not really, but nobody needs to actually know that right? Looks like I managed to outrun the opening abyss at least. I cautiously peer over the edge and see Castiel finally managing to free himself from the car after plummeting to the bottom of the pit. Just as I am considering how to deal with him, I feel someone tapping me on the shoulder. Who could it be? As I turn around, a wave of fists slam into my face, knocking me forwards and into the yawning abyss. My legs struggle to retain their balance, but the ground betrays me, crumbling into dust. Everything is in slow motion as my body falls, while I turn to see who had sucker punched me. And I see Naiberg standing above me at the edge of the pit, cheerfully sending me off with several thumbs up. The Awakening I land hard on my back in the pit, driving the wind out of me. As the transport helicopter carrying the Idol begins to drift closer to the pit while blaring that obnoxious noise, Naiberg quickly makes himself scarce to avoid being inadvertently stunned by the Idol. That''s one less worry for me to deal with now, but I am in no position to relax just yet. Before I can get my bearings, Castiel marches over to me and flips me over on my belly. He then locks both my arms behind my back and wedges his knee against my face. "Not one more word out of you blackguard." Castiel says as he forces my body down against the ground with his considerable strength, "You''ve caused enough harm today." It might not look like he''s doing much, but if it wasn''t for the artificial core protecting me, I would have been turned into pancake thanks to the ridiculous amount of force that guy is exerting. I squirm about in an attempt to shake him off me, but I just don''t have the leverage to manage it. Castiel grinds his knee against my face in response and soon I am eating dirt, literally. "Tensei! Help!" Brocon shouts at the top of her voice. Someone''s sounding really desperate. I manage to pull my head up from the ground and see the Perfecta slowly crawling back up to its feet and hands. The Perfecta''s attention may be wholly fixed on Michael and I, but it has no intention of letting Brocon go. The forest of limbs begins to pull Brocon towards one of the Perfecta''s gnashing maws. Brocon resists, blasting away at the monster with lightning, but other than a giving rise to a faint scent of cooking meat, accomplishes absolutely nothing useful. "Rose! Calm down!" Michael shouts, "Struggling will only make things worse! Your armor will protect you against the Alpha One''s digestive juices. Let Kira stun it and then we can cut you out!" The Hero stares at the scene from the edge of the pit above us with a fevered look on his face, clearly undecided on whether to jump down here to save the day or heed Castiel''s advise. I just need to give him a little push in the right direction and this show will be back on the road. Mind blast. I need to save Brocon. "Tensei!" Castiel shouts, "Don''t come in here until I give the signal! We can save Rose, but you need to listen to me!" "But, but ..." the Hero blubbers like a moron, his determination to jump into the pit clearly wavering. Shit, is he actually listening to the Incarnate? "Provoking the Incarnate now guarantees that Rose''ll be hurt!" Castiel urges, "You must be patient and let Kira do her part!" The Hero nods and dismisses his spirit sword. Damn, he is completely ignoring my mental commands. Worse still, Castiel is being proven right. The Idol''s song is already having an effect on the Perfecta, the beast''s movements already growing sluggish and unfocused. At this development, Brocon calms down as well and stops attacking the Perfecta. Instead she shuts her eyes, awaiting her rescue by the Hero. "You do realize that your armor does not have a helmet right?" I pipe up, addressing Brocon, "I doubt you can survive without a head." Its strange. No one of importance in this world wears protective headgear. Not the Hero. Not the Heroines. Not Big Tits. Even the Loli vampire and Nicky don''t wear helmets when they fight. I have absolutely no idea why. Brocon''s eyes snap open with alarm upon hearing my comment but before she can begin struggling again, Castiel addresses her. "The armor is enchanted allowing the protection to extend to your head!" Castiel elaborates, "Gallant wants you to bait the Alpha One into fighting. Don''t listen to him." At this moment the Hero is joined by Big Tits at the edge of the pit. Big Tits surveys the scene in front of us, concern filling her eyes. "That''s right. Representative Michael is telling the truth." Big Tits reassures, "The armor will protect your entire body. We will get you out of there in a jiffy." Brocon smiles at this piece of news and goes back to closing her eyes and waiting for the Perfecta to cease its movements. By now the Perfecta has lost interest in Brocon and can barely keep its eyes open. I need to do something to rouse it, otherwise this mission will be a complete wash. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. "Damn. I feel pretty stupid now." I grumble while Castiel twists my arms hard in a vain attempt at breaking them. "I told you to be quiet." he hisses at me angrily. I roll my eyes and reply, "Why should I? Its not as if you can actually hurt me. Come to think of it, can we even hurt each other?" "You will face justice blackguard, of that I can assure you." Castiel whispers, "An eternity of imprisonment is worse than death." I flare my core, hoping that the Perfecta will take notice and get all aggressive once again. Unfortunately, the monster barely moves its eyes in my direction. Without someone actually attacking the Perfecta to keep it awake, the beast simply cannot scrape up the interest to go after me while resisting the Idol''s magic. "You''re wrong about something." I shoot back at Castiel who doesn''t bother to humor me, merely continuing to shove his knee into my face. "I don''t actually need to make physical contact to use Damavand." I say just before circulating the artificial core''s power and unleashing it in a torrent against the Perfecta. The Perfecta''s flabby mass quivers like a huge pile of jelly the moment it is struck by Damavand and malicious alertness returns to the monster''s eyes. The Perfecta shakes itself like a wet dog as it easily resists the effects of my spell, forcing me to quickly break off my attack before I get hit with the incoming back lash fueled by the Perfecta''s own spirituality. The monster stamps its limbs in fury and once again tightens its grip on Brocon, determined to have its meal. My mind boggles as the the skin on the Perfecta''s back splits open, forming a massive mouth lined with blunt fangs. The arms of the monster lift the now panicking Brocon up and pushes her inexorably into the gaping orifice. Brocon flails about wildly to no avail as tears run down her cheeks. "Help! Someone please, help!" Brocon cries as she gradually disappears into the horrific maw on the creature''s back. The Perfecta focuses its spirit core and sends power throughout its entire form. The beast''s body shudders and with an earthshaking groan, the Perfecta begins to grow in size, its limbs stretching and the rest of its bulk slowly filling the entire pit. The individual faces that originally lined the Perfecta''s body lose their definition and disappear as the Perfecta''s size keeps increasing. Small pimples sprout all over the surface of that trembling mass of flesh and with a chorus of pops, the pimples break open with a shower of pus, each revealing a bloodshot eye within. The eyes relentlessly scan the entirety of the pit and eventually fall on both Castiel and I. The Perfecta makes a low growl from somewhere deep within and begins to advance towards us again, its body heaving with sweat that exudes a sour, salty smell. Castiel curses under his breath and his weight against my body abruptly lifts. As I get back up to my feet, I see Castiel flaring his own core and manifesting a pair of golden wings from his back. With a powerful beat of those wings, Castiel lifts off from the ground, shooting upwards towards the sky just as the Perfecta''s arms reach out towards both of us. The Perfecta makes an annoyed noise and one of its arms snaps outwards like a whip, the open palm outstretched. The palm slams into the wall of the pit, crushing Castiel like a bug against a newspaper. Castiel tumbles back downwards to where I am, his golden wings dissipating into the ether while the crimson mesh on his body crackles defiantly. Before either of us can react, we are scooped up by the grasping hands of the Perfecta. I struggle as best as I can, striking the incoming arms and batting them aside, but the world is suddenly flipped over as the Perfecta grabs me by the legs and holds me upside down. I am lifted towards the obscene mouth on the Perfecta''s back just in time to see Brocon disappear into the slobbering void. Glancing to the side, I see that Castiel has been grabbed by the waist with both of his arms pinned to the side. The Incarnate''s face is a picture of concentration as he tries to break out of the Perfecta''s grip to no avail. I pull out a flash bang and aim for the eyes of the monster, but before I can make my move, a wave of pressure washes over the entire pit, eliciting a groan from both Castiel and I. Its powerful. Not only was that wave of pressure strong enough to cause physical discomfort, its also intense enough to divert the Perfecta''s attention from both of us. The arms carrying Castiel and I release their grip over us and we fall on to the slick skin of the Perfecta. The monster''s other arms press down, holding the two of us fast, while the Perfecta turns its attention to whatever caused that blast of spiritual pressure. "No." Castiel moans in distress, "How can he grow so quickly?" I turn my head and see the Hero standing at the edge of the pit, his core positively erupting with power. Another pulse of pressure from the Hero crashes against the Perfecta and it snarls in agitation. Big Tits stares stupidly in amazement at the Hero, her jaw hanging loose. The Hero flexes his right arm and a jet black spirit sword forms in his hand, radiating menace. "Yes." The Voice rasps, "Finally. The time has come at last." I immediately understand what''s going on. "Awakened. The Hero has fully awakened." I breathe. Castiel lets out another groan in response to my statement. The Hero points the ebony sword straight at the Perfecta, resolve burning in his eyes. And without hesitation, he lunges into the pit. Earth, Wind and Fire "Tensei!" Castiel manages to choke out as the Perfecta''s arms smother him, "Stop channeling that power! Its corrupting your soul!" The Hero lands on the Perfecta''s back from his leap and regards Michael calmly, "For Rose''s sake sir, I am willing to pay any price. If destroying my soul is what it takes, then so be it!" As the Hero turns and begins slashing away at the Perfecta with his blackened spirit sword, I begin to giggle uncontrollably. Does the Hero even hear himself talk? Castiel hears me and gives me an angry glare from where the Perfecta is holding him down. "What?" I smirk back at Castiel, "I''m just touched at Tensei''s righteous heart." "That heart you sneer at will be destroyed by the Tyrant''s power." Castiel hisses, "Tensei will eventually be reduced to an unfeeling automaton as the Tyrant gets its claws into him. Love and joy, the gifts of milady, will forever be lost to him." I laugh softly at Castiel''s over dramatic description of the Hero. "Somehow I doubt that." I reply, "My guess is that love, for a certain meaning of the word, is going to be a large part of Tensei''s life." The Perfecta roars in pain as the Hero slashes away at it, his blackened blade leaving behind a trail of spiritual miasma that greatly slows the monster''s regeneration. Bleeding wounds cover the Perfecta''s body and several of its arms have already been lopped off. I don''t think Big Tits ever taught the Hero that trick. It must be a little something extra The Voice provided as part of the Hero''s power set. Castiel snaps angrily, "Don''t patronize me blackguard. What Tensei will experience if he carries walking on this path has nothing to do with love. He will be reduced to being a mindless animal, enslaved to his lust." I shake my head in amusement at this rebuttal and both of us go back to watching the Hero tear away at the Perfecta. Well, at the end of the day what Castiel is saying is true isn''t it? The Hero is well on his way in becoming a man whore. And after that he''s going to be murdered by the Idol. A rather pathetic destiny, if you want to think about it. The Hero''s spirit core releases a massive, overwhelming blast of pressure as he tosses his black spirit sword high into the air, cracks spreading across the blade''s surface. The sudden burst of pressure causes both Castiel and I to wince. We immediately begin circulating our own cores to resist being crushed by the onslaught of raw energy being unleashed by the Hero. The Perfecta''s legs begin to buckle from the unpleasant sensation and it sways drunkenly about, trying to focus itself. Going by the amount of pressure the Hero is releasing, his soul must be heavily polluted, probably a side effect of The Voice''s enhancements. "A thousand blades conquer ten thousand flowers!" The Hero shouts and the spirit sword shatters explosively in the air, scattering the blade fragments. That''s Big Tits''s ultimate technique isn''t it? Shit, if I remember correctly that technique is an area of effect attack. Does the Hero not care about Castiel and I? Castiel''s face pales, probably having come to the same conclusion as I did. Both of us share a panicked look at each other before going back to struggling against the Perfecta''s arms holding us down. Another wave of pressure slams into both of us, grinding Castiel and I against the slimy flesh of the monster. The pressure this time is not merely being exuded by the Hero, but also by each of the individual blade fragments plummeting downwards towards the Perfecta. As the fragments fall from the sky, each of them begins to grow, turning into a fully formed spirit sword. I swallow hard, Big Tits could not do that during her fight against the Loli vampire. The Hero has already taken the technique to the next level after a few weeks worth of training. I knew that the Hero was going to level up, but Castiel''s sentiments are correct. This rate of growth is bullshit. The deluge of swords shower the Perfecta, the blades wedging deep within the monster''s flesh. And the worst part is that the deluge seems never ending. A relentless barrage coming from above hammering the Perfecta remorselessly. I wince as a blade just barely misses my head, piercing the spot next to where I am pinned while Castiel barks in pain as a blade slams squarely into his crotch before being deflected by the protective crimson mesh. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Don''t tell me the Hero actually conjured a thousand swords? Just as I am about to taunt Castiel at his expense, another blade strikes my gut and a hot flash of pain travels up my body. While the blade falls away ineffectually as expected, I look on in horror as the miasma the blade was carrying easily slips into my body and spreads throughout my spirit core. My core abruptly goes haywire, firing off uneven jolts of spirit energy, causing my entire body to twitch violently. Castiel fares no better, the red mesh offering no protection against the black miasma. His body completely comprised of spirit energy, soaks up the miasma like a sponge. Castiel closes his eyes and clenches his teeth, his body all the while jerking up and down furiously, completely out of his control. With a long, painful groan, Castiel flares his core to the utmost, releasing a storm of hot energy that begins to burn away the miasma infecting him. Following his lead, I grit my teeth and blaze my own core as well, and feel the miasma''s influence slowly but surely begin to fall away. The Perfecta shrieks in pain as each of the spirit blades stabbed into its bulk injects miasma into the monster''s body, the black fog fighting back against the clean spirit energy the beast is circulating. Despite appearances, the Perfecta''s stores of spirit energy are in reality very limited and combating the miasma puts an even greater strain on those already inadequate reserves. Small bloody rents and tears begin to appear across the Perfecta''s skin and its arms begin to lose their strength. "Rose! I''m coming!" The Hero blares, his spiritual nimbus a churning black typhoon. Summoning a fresh spirit sword, the Hero dashes across the Perfecta''s body and jumps straight into the giant mouth on its back. The Perfecta reacts with a sharp cry of pain and drops to the ground hard, releasing its grip on Castiel and I. Both of us surge our cores simultaneously, purging the last of the miasma within and get back to our feet. As we try to find our footing on the slick surface of the Perfecta''s skin, jets of white flame begin to burst out of the wounds that cover its body. The flesh of the Perfecta begins to melt, forming bloody patches of sludge. Its happening, the Perfecta''s body is about to fail. I grimace as I gingerly make my way across the heaving mass towards the pit''s wall and Castiel conjures his golden wings once more, ready to take off. But before either of us can make good on our respective plans, the spirit blades embedded in the Perfecta explode, the shock wave throwing both of us off its body. Castiel and I slam against the pit''s wall while lumps of flesh spray all over the place, the monster losing its physical cohesion. As the Perfecta''s body breaks apart, it releases an expanding cloud of white flame that hungrily surges across the entire pit. Thinking quickly, I sink my left hand into the wall and grab Castiel with my right. He flaps his wings desperately, trying to escape from the encroaching wave of fire, but with me as an anchor, he gets absolutely nowhere. "What are you doing!" Castiel demands. "Be a pal and share some of that goddess protection, ok?" I gasp as the heat from the flames begins to reach both of us. I pull Castiel''s body against mine, letting it serve as a makeshift shield and hear the familiar crackle of the red mesh as the rush of white flame reaches him. Castiel thrashes about fruitlessly, unable to break my iron grip. The red mesh begins to flicker worryingly as it resists the flame though. His Incarnate power must be at the limit. Castiel barks angrily as he elbows me in the face, "This is not over blackguard. We will meet again!" Just as I am about to ask him what he''s planning, Castiel ceases struggling against me and casts his gaze upwards and says a single word. "Recall!" The red mesh surrounding Castiel''s body breaks apart and he literally disintegrates into motes of spirit energy. Like wayward stars, the motes shoot off into the distance, leaving me behind to take the conflagration right in the face. The flames rush over me and pain fills my entire body to the point where I can no longer hold on to the wall. I plummet downwards once more, into the heart of the fire. But as I fall, from that fiery core, a cold wind is birthed, growing outwards. A churning mass of pitch black spiritual energy sweeps the flames aside and blessing me with icy coldness. Against this power, even the flames born from complete purity is nothing. The fire sputters and dies. I hit the ground and begin to twitch haplessly from all the miasma I had absorbed on my way down. I try to get back to my feet but collapse on my knees before winding up in an undignified kowtow. I begin to rev up my core again to burn away the miasma, but irresistible pain floods my entire body. I can''t do it. My body won''t survive the strain. The curtain of miasma parts, revealing the Hero in all his glory standing amidst the bloody carcass of the Perfecta, holding an unconscious Brocon in a princess carry. I swallow hard as the Hero''s flinty, merciless gaze locks on to me. Shit. Purpose and Desire "Transmigrator, listen carefully." The Voice urgently rasps, "When the enhancements provided by me are fully activated, the Hero will prioritize the mission I have set before him. This quirk of his manufacture may help you escape." As The Voice talks, the Hero''s icy glare at me never wavers and he begins to stride menacingly towards my twitching body. Damn it, I can''t purge the miasma from the core, meaning I have no way of fighting back. Taking a deep breath, I shut down the artificial core and the twitching immediately stops. A rush of blood surges up my throat but I bolt my mouth shut and swallow it back down. I slowly stagger back up to my feet and lean against the pit''s wall for support. If I am going to be completely defenseless either way, I might as well be defenseless while not acting like a complete spaz. "You hurt Rose." The Hero states flatly, his spirit core barely holding in the miasma. His core is like a volcano on the brink of erupting as it positively overflows with energy. I am treading on very thin ice, one wrong move and its curtains. The Idol''s screeching stops and the helicopter buzzing overhead begins to slowly lower itself into the pit. Big Tits and Magic Police Girl jump into the pit as well and position themselves at my rear, preventing me from making a break for it. What a joke. In my current condition I could not run even if I wanted. And I want to run, really, really badly. "The Perfecta hurt Rose, not me." I explain, "I never laid a finger on her." The Hero scowls and raises any eyebrow questioningly at me. Right. He probably doesn''t actually know what that monster actually is. This could be my ticket to safety. Trading knowledge for my life. "The Perfecta. The monster you just fought." I say, "I know all about it and the person who created it." I leave the thread hanging, hoping the Hero will take the bait. "Who?" a simple one word query from the Hero. I give off a cheer in my mind. The Hero''s taken the bait. Now to reel him in. "Get me out of here and back to the ORPO line. I''ll tell you there." I bargain. Big Tits raises her voice, "You''re in no position to make deals Gallant. You will tell us everything once we have you in the lockup. Now surrender." I turn and regard Big Tits, rolling my eyes, "I''m protected by the P5. SOPO has no authority to arrest me. Scram." "No. No deals." the Hero answers in a low voice, "Your actions caused Rose to get hurt. I won''t help you escape. Surrender to Irene and Sera. Now." I turn back to the Hero slightly bewildered and scoff, "You for real man? That''s completely off the table." "Now!" The Hero shouts at the top of his lungs and his spirit core flares, releasing a tornado of miasma that drives everyone around him to their knees from the pressure. I feel the miasma settling around the inert artificial core but the twitching thankfully does not start. Big Tits and Magic Police Girl are not so lucky though. Both of them begin to thrash about on the ground while beginning the process of flaring their own cores to burn away the miasma. I pick myself back up and give my body a good dusting, hopefully looking far calmer than I feel. The Hero is a hair''s edge away from getting violent with me and he''s become completely obsessed with Brocon being injured by my actions. An obsession that verges on monomania. From The Voice''s surveillance of the Hero, it always struck me that the man was at all times at the very least amicable. His behavior now is a complete one eighty from the previous record. In the background, the helicopter lands shuts off its engine allowing the Idol to disembark. The Idol rushes out of the passenger cabin, tears in her eyes. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. The Hero barely glances at the Idol before returning his attention to me. "I won''t say it again." he whispers, "Surrender. Face justice for what you did to Rose. I won''t let you hurt her again." I nod to myself. Its time for an experiment of my own, see how the Hero handles task prioritization. "You care more about Rose than your big breasted lover." I dryly comment, "Big Tits was actually beaten up by me you know." "Who cares about that now!" The Hero blares, "Rose is hurt!" I smirk as relief floods my body as my theory is proven correct. The Hero is wholly focused on Brocon now. His programming is likely urging him to secure her safety and prevent her death. After all if she dies, the Hero will fail in his objective to impregnate her. I recall what Castiel said about the Hero eventually becoming an automaton. Castiel wasn''t wrong, he just got the chronology mixed up. Tensei''s already an automaton. He was literally born as a machine to fulfill a specific purpose. And a machine can never escape its purpose. I spread my arms wide and step closer to the Hero and Brocon. I rhythmically tap the bandoleer of grenades still hung over the trench coat. "See these Hero?" I ask, "I can do a lot more to hurt Rose. Whether that happens though, is up to you." "Liar!" Magic Police Girl shouts from the rear, "Tensei, don''t believe Gallant. He''s obviously bluffing. The grenades will kill him too." I take another step towards the Hero and begin tapping the grenades at a faster rhythm. The Hero''s eyes go wide and he unconsciously holds Rose even tighter while taking a few steps back. The Idol pauses in her mad dash towards the Hero and takes in the situation around her. Her eyes flash with understanding and she gathers her spiritual energy and unleashes her screeching directly at me. I simply smile in response and unfasten the bandoleer. I then begin swinging the bandoleer dangerously close to Brocon while holding on to one of the flash bangs with my free hand. "Here''s what is going to happen Hero." I shout over the rabid screeching, "I am going to take that helicopter back to the ORPO line. And no one is going to stop me. Understood?" "Kira. Shut up." The Hero snaps irritably as he finds it difficult talking to me over the noise the Idol is making. The Idol''s face reddens and she immediately quietens down, her head held low. I press forwards all the while, confident that the Hero will accept my proposal. His objective is to save Brocon and he sees me as a threat to her. By offering to remove myself from the scene, I am presenting the easiest way for the Hero to fulfill that objective. He may not like letting me go, but ''like'' means nothing to a machine. My guess is validated when the Hero steps aside and clears the way to the helicopter. I give him a gracious nod and walk to the helicopter as fast as I can, eager to flee this place. I board it through where the Idol disembarked and slam the door shut, breathing a sigh of relief. I did it. I survived my encounter with the Hero. Just as I am about to relax, a sudden sharp pain bites into my ankle. I look down and see a dismembered hand clutching on to my leg tightly. My heart leaps at this horrific sight and I quickly tear the hand off my ankle without a second thought. Blood soaks my trouser leg and I see that the hand''s fingernails have elongated into sharp black claws that release a steaming liquid. What in the world is this? How did a dismembered hand get into the helicopter? The hand squirms within my grasp, the flesh on its back shifting and assuming the form of a face bearing a nasty smile. Naiberg. I scream in horror and the drop the hand, scrambling backwards. My leg completely gives way and a sickly numbness spreads throughout my body. As I collapse on to my back, the hand crawls on to my chest and stands on its middle and index fingers, allowing Naiberg''s face to tower over me. "Figured that your powers wouldn''t have recovered yet from the battle." Naiberg taunts, "Don''t worry though, I just dosed you with a paralyzing agent." "Pilot. Take us to the SOPO headquarters." Naiberg tells the pilot and the helicopter roars to life as it begins to lift off. "I''m looking forward to spending a little quality time with my friend here." End of Arc Two Relevance and The Third Wheel "Inspector Scott!" a SOPO colleague calls to me just as I am settling into my office, "You need to come to HQ''s entrance now. Something serious is going down." I nod tiredly and get up from my chair. From the battle at Charlie Mountain to the infirmary and now back to work at the office. It really never ends. A sick feeling slowly curdles in my stomach, as I keep my eyes looking forward. Concentrate on work. Don''t let anyone see you cry. You''re better than that. Everyday, I wake up in my just recently paid off apartment, drive to SOPO HQ in my new car, check into my office to review my duties for the day then go to meet Tensei and Rose to prepare them for their contest against St Clair and Nicholas. On some days, just to shake things up, I check in with the Senior Inspector to report on my progress. Meaningless days spent doing meaningless things. My life passing through an endless grey fog. Its strange, I live in one of the most crowded cities in the world. I spend my day interacting with people I both like and dislike. I work long hours and hardly have any time to myself. But it always ends the same way. When the night falls and the terror begins. The terror of shutting off the lights of my bedroom and knowing that in the darkness, I am completely alone. That if I died in my sleep no one would know or care. The only person who would bother about my demise would be Hartley, filing in a report saying that Irene Scott had passed away and a vacant slot for the rank of Inspector had opened up. Then my file would be closed and the name of Irene Scott will vanish into history, unremembered. The end. Then I wake up in the morning, prepare for work and the cycle starts all over again. But one day the cycle broke, when Hartley called me into his office and told me I was going undercover at Unity Academy. When planning my undercover identity at the Academy, Hartley had the bright idea of identifying me as a divorcee despite the fact I had never married. He claimed that it would explain why I was still single despite my age. I went along with it at the time, but at the back of my mind I just wanted to scream at Hartley, "Yes, I am a Christmas Cake. Deal with it." Then I realized that the only person who had to deal with my status as a Christmas Cake was myself. I was sore about the whole thing because of my own hang ups. My friends were all getting married or had gotten married already. They had kept moving onward in their lives, while I was perpetually stuck, running on the spot. The only consolation was that I had gotten very good at running on the spot. My career was in a far better position compared to where my friends were. And from the size of my apartment and its location, I was confident that my paycheck was larger than theirs as well. My reputation as one of the most powerful SOPO officers was secure. I might have been left behind by my friends, but so what? I was arguably in a better place than they were. I basically persuaded myself to stop caring about this issue. But just running on the spot was no longer good enough. I had thought that I was strong, but recent events have shown me that I was nothing before true powerhouses. At the von Amsterg mansion, Yvonne St Clair could have easily defeated me if she was not so preoccupied with Nicholas''s safety. Master Chance is several times more powerful than I am. And at the building site, Gallant played with me as if I was nothing. My hard work over the years meant nothing before them. Power is power. They had it. And I didn''t. But all that didn''t matter, because I had finally found someone who could keep the darkness at bay. Someone who would keep me company at night. I put these stray thoughts out of my mind and head towards the entrance where I hear commotion building up. Several officers stand by the barred doors of the entrance, weapons at the ready. I look out of the windows and see a large group of ORPO nuisances standing outside our HQ jeering at us and openly carrying their weapons in breach of the Council''s ruling. "What''s going on?" I ask one of the guards on duty. "Archmage Naiberg managed to capture Gallant and brought him here." the guard tells me, "ORPO found out and they have been gathering at the entrance ever since."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. "How come I didn''t know about this?" I demand. I had a score to settle with Gallant and was looking forward to questioning him about his various connections throughout The City. The guard replies, "The Archmage brought Gallant in by helicopter and he has been detained in the lockup ever since. It looks like the Senior Inspector wanted to keep this quiet as well." I frown. There is no reason to keep quiet about the capture of a criminal as notorious as Gallant. Just as ORPO has no justification for showing up at our doorstep because of Gallant. Unless he was telling the truth when claiming that the P5 was protecting him. Then it made sense. ORPO was here to cause trouble using Gallant''s arrest as an excuse. Archmage Naiberg had unknowingly opened a can of worms when he brought Gallant here. My mood immediately sours at the thought of Naiberg, and by extension his daughter. The prodigy. The youngest officer to ever wear gold braid. Who everybody is saying will be the strongest SOPO officer ever. My apprentice in magic. My rival in love. Sera should be here with me, facing off against ORPO. But no, she abandoned me, saying that she had to stand guard over Tensei at the Hospital after he collapsed in the pit once Gallant had escaped. I am not a fool. Neither am I blind. Tensei has gotten himself involved with Sera as well. My own apprentice, betraying me with my lover. The very thought of it sends suppressed fury travelling up my spine. I had finally found someone to hold, and my own apprentice wants to steal him away. But all that pales before the humiliation I felt when Tensei openly dismissed the beating I received from Gallant in favor of his concern over Rose. After I had saved his life and given myself to him. A sudden crashing noise snaps me out of my thoughts and I see a pair of ORPO mech suits smashing the front door down with their axes. The guards quickly back up and assume defensive positions. With the entrance clear, the ORPO thugs march into the reception area and at their head is the world''s worst excuse for a police officer. "Commander Hernandez." I address the rat standing before me, "I hope you have a good explanation for this." Hernandez casts a superfluous glance at me while puffing on his vile cigar. "You''re not the Senior Inspector." he says, "I''m not interested in talking with you." I grit my teeth at this insult and reply as politely as I can, "I am the most senior officer here. And you and your men are trespassing. Explain yourselves." Hernandez sneers, "Looks like SOPO hands out gold braid to anybody these days. Anyway, we''re here to investigate a kidnapping." "What kidnapping?" I ask, keeping my face and tone neutral. "Daffyd Gallant." Hernandez smiles, "A little bird told me that he had been kidnapped by you guys. Bad mistake. ORPO is always watching Inspector." My mouth tightens into a line and I curse inwardly. Its about Gallant alright, and he was telling the truth about SOPO not being allowed to detain him. Hernandez makes an extravagant gesture at his men and declares, "Search this dump. I want no stone left unturned." I summon my spirit sword and the rest of the SOPO officers assemble in battle formation beside me. We blaze our spirit cores in unison in a show of strength against Hernandez''s mob. The lot of them are just mundanes, no match for any of us. Several ORPO mech suits push their way forward and interpose themselves between us and Hernandez. The ORPO Commander laughs harshly and his men follow suit. The laugh spreads from the reception area, to outside the HQ and to the entire block around the building. A wave of jeering laughter sweeps forward from all around us. I glance out of the window again and to my shock see several antiquated tanks rolling up towards the HQ as Hernandez''s henchmen close in from all sides. "Like them?" Hernandez asks smugly, "Surplus kit courtesy of the P5." "You want to kill us." I hiss, "This is not about Gallant at all." "You shouldn''t have tried to get rid of ORPO." Hernandez says flatly, this time deadly serious, "You shouldn''t have helped the Host to take over our turf. Now its time to pay the price." "Where''s Hartley?" I whisper urgently to the officer beside me. "I think he''s in the detention wing with the Archmage." comes the answer. Damn it. There is no one here to lead us or summon help from RAU. Letting Hernandez''s thugs in is also out of the question. Not only would it irreparably damage SOPO''s credibility, once Hernandez finds Gallant in the lockup, he would have the excuse to detain all of us with the backing of the P5. "Coward!" I taunt Hernandez, hoping to rally the spirits of my colleagues, "Where were you when we were fighting the Alpha One?" Hernandez''s smug voice responds, "Getting the tanks out of storage. Would be a shame to send them back there without actually doing anything with them." Another nasty laugh comes from the ORPO side at this jab. Tensei, Rose and Sera are safe in the hospital while I am here about to get into a fight for my life. My own Commander is absent. We barely have any officers left after the Alpha One slaughtered us at Charlie Mountain. Its so unfair. Why can''t anyone be by my side? Why do I have to face everything alone? Why can''t someone just be kind to me? "Are you letting us in or not?" Hernandez demands. "No." I say. No. I will not let Hernandez in. No. I will not surrender. No. I will not die here. No. I will never give up Tensei. "Attack!" Hernandez shouts and the mech suits charge forward. What''s mine is mine. My pride as a member of SOPO. My devotion to justice and the law. Most importantly of all, the boy that I have claimed. Those are things that will never change. That I will never give up on. Until my final breath. Doctors Office "SOPO Headquarters, Red Perch Cape District." The Voice rasps signalling the end of the journey, "I have made the call for reinforcements. Stay safe until they arrive." Stay safe? I can''t even move. What am I supposed to do if Naiberg decides to start dissecting me? The Voice is being awfully cavalier about my plight. While I am shrieking in panic internally, the helicopter begins its descent and lands on what I assume to be the roof of the SOPO HQ. Not that I can really tell from the slumped over position that I am looking from. The door of the helicopter slides open and I see a pair of beefy looking dudes in SOPO uniform step into the helicopter. Crap. I recognize those two. They are from the black site. The shit has really hit the fan now. Those reinforcements The Voice was talking about better be on their way. The pair frisk me very roughly, ignoring the fact that I have been completely paralyzed. All my remaining equipment is confiscated and the earpiece is snatched away by those two. Cold sweat runs down my back. How am I supposed to coordinate with The Voice now? Staying safe is looking increasingly unlikely at this rate. Satisfied with their work, the duo drag me out of the helicopter by the armpits with Naiberg''s dismembered hand leading the way, trotting ahead of us on its index and middle fingers. And standing before us is the man himself, this time clad in simple blue long sleeved shirt and black slacks, his wild untidy beard bristling with excitement. Naiberg rolls up the right sleeve of his shirt, revealing a smooth stump in its place instead of a hand. He then extends the stump downwards invitingly at the dismembered hand. The hand crouches at this signal from Naiberg and leaps at the proffered stump. As the flesh connects, I hear a squeaking noise as if a rubber glove was being put on. The hand begins to screw itself back on to Naiberg''s arm, squeaking all the way as the two body parts fuse back together. I hear a slight murmur of disgust from my minders but Naiberg merely grins in response and flexes his newly attached hand once the process is complete. "Medical Room. Chop chop." Naiberg says as he lead the way down the roof access staircase, "Oh, don''t look so mortified Mr Gallant, I have no intention of killing you." "Oog?" I dumbly reply as the paralysis makes a mess of my words. "I''m interested in that soul of yours." Naiberg hums over his shoulder, "It would be lost if the container died, wouldn''t it?" I''m not sure whether having my soul torn out or being killed is preferable. My money is on both being equally bad ends though. The staircase terminates at a landing with an elevator and a corridor leading further into the building. The walls are all painted white and the floor is decorated with featureless beige tiles. Harsh fluorescent lighting provides illumination. The corridor itself is lined with several jail cells, some holding people. A detention block. Nobody is going to make a fuss about someone being dragged about by SOPO officers here. Naiberg picked this place well. The former nudist calls the elevator and the four of us board it without ceremony. Naiberg then punches in the first floor of the building as the elevator''s destination before turning to regard me once again. "Besides," Naiberg smirks nastily at me as he squeezes my shoulder in a bizarrely inappropriate show of camaraderie, "I need a replacement for my Perfecta. You owe me this much." I have a mouth but I cannot scream. I want to scream so much right now. ..... The doors of the elevator open with a happy ding and I am dragged down yet another stark white corridor. Naiberg leads us soundlessly past several closed doors before stopping at a room with its lights on. He opens the door without hesitation and gestures that I be brought inside. The goons drag me in as directed and I note from the surroundings that we must be in the Medical Room Naiberg had been talking about earlier. There a number of nondescript cots lying about, what appears to be a medicine cabinet, a couple of windows and a simple desk plus chair arrangement. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Standing in the center of the room is a tubby, graying man carrying a small metal briefcase. Tubby nervously wipes the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his SOPO uniform and gestures at a cot that has a pair of stands beside it, each bearing an IV drip, with both bags individually sealed in a plastic case bearing a valve. I am roughly thrown on to the said cot and Tubby whips out two pairs of handcuffs which he uses to secure me to the frame of the bed. "You have it all set up Hartley?" Naiberg asks Tubby without bothering to look at him. Tubby bows his head slightly and answers softly, "Yes. Yes. I managed to get the sedatives and antitoxin you requested. This is dangerous Archmage, I don''t like it." Naiberg makes an irritated noise as he hooks up both IV drips to my arm and fiddles with the attached valves, "Not that. I have eyes and I can see. I mean the soul samples. Do you have them with you?" Tubby raises the small metal briefcase in confirmation before saying, "An angel and demon soul right? Don''t tell me you intend to do the fusion here? These souls aren''t fresh and we don''t have much in the way of surgical equipment." Naiberg nods in satisfaction at the drips and turns back to talk to Tubby, "The samples from the hospital are just the base. A foundation to build on. We don''t have the time to source for souls of sufficient quality. Quantity will have to do." "What are you saying?" Tubby asks with furrowed brows. "You have angel and demon prisoners here right?" Naiberg queries. "No!" Tubby hisses, "You want to harvest here? Are you crazy? What if someone finds out?" "Then you shut up those people who find out." Naiberg snaps, "I have no time for this Hartley, I stand on the brink of a once in a lifetime breakthrough. We have the chance to actually reach out and touch god but here you are bothering me with irrelevant nonsense." "Show respect." Tubby growls, "We all serve the goddess in our respective capacity and we are all equal before her. Remember that." Naiberg sniffs dismissively, "I remember that someone had no objections when it was his men receiving the treatment." A long tense silence forms between the pair and the guards diplomatically look away. It is at this moment I notice something from the corner of my eye. Its one of the valves attached to the IV drips. The valve is moving all by itself back to its original position. The Voice, it has to be. I breathe a sigh of relief at the confirmation that I have not been abandoned. There is a way out of this predicament, I just need to be ready for the moment. Tubby breaks the silence first, "I''ll come with you to the cells. I need to clear out the officers there before you get to work." Naiberg grunts and begins to leave the room, "Bring one of your men as well to help control the prisoners. The other can stand guard here." Tubby just nods and signals one of the goons to follow the pair of them to the cells. The other fellow takes a seat at the desk and leans back in barely concealed boredom. Damn. Should have known that Naiberg would not make the rookie mistake of leaving his test subject unattended. I tug at the handcuffs but they hold fast. The time is probably not ripe yet, so I shut my eyes and pretend to doze off. .... As expected, The Voice had shut off the flow of sedative, leaving me fully alert. I begin feeling the effects of the antitoxin that Naiberg hooked me up on as it begins to break down the miasma the Hero had infected me with during the final moments of the battle against the Perfecta. My paralysis also wears off as the antitoxin does its work. Naiberg probably wants my soul clean for whatever he intends to do with it. The oily heaviness within me begins to lift and I feel much better. Unfortunately, the antitoxin doesn''t deal with the main problem that I am facing, the stress that had accumulated in my body. I don''t think I can activate the core in my current condition, at least not without risking severe injury. While I ruminate on this problem, the door to the Medical Room opens again and I hear someone walking towards the bed. "The Archmage is almost finished setting up for the ritual at the cells." I hear Tubby''s voice say, "We''re moving the blackguard there." I hear the jangle of keys as Tubby unlocks the handcuffs and removes the IVs from my arm. The guard begins to manhandle me out of the bed when all of a sudden, a loud alarm blares throughout the entire building. The guard drops me back into the cot and I hear his voice calling to Tubby. "Senior Inspector. Hurry." the guard says, "You need to see this." I hear the both of them scramble to the window next to the cot and open my eyes, confirming that the pair have their backs to me. Good. Its time. Against All Odds I grab the IV tube connected to the bag loaded with sedative and the valve controlling the flow of the drug twists on its own accord to full flow, spilling the sedative all over the cot. Slowly getting back up to my feet while Tubby and his muscle are distracted by whatever is happening outside the barred window, I take a quick gander over their shoulders at what has gotten the pair so excited. My breath is taken away at the sight of actual battle tanks painted in the stark white associated with ORPO charging towards the SOPO HQ. Accompanying the tanks are ranks of mech suits armed with axes, screening the flanks of the approaching force. Behind these troops are the men dressed in the usual ORPO style, white uniform with stab vest, carrying rifles. The entire assembly resembles a tsunami of metal and flesh sweeping towards the building I am in. The lamps mounted on the tanks and mech suits shine menacingly against the darkness of the late night, or perhaps is it already early morning? The Voice wasn''t joking about reinforcements being on their way. But no way such a large force would be fielded just to rescue me. Hernandez must be intending to use this opportunity to finish things with SOPO once and for all. Instead of a wall, the SOPO HQ''s perimeter is secured by a tall wrought iron fence bearing sharpened spikes to prevent any would be intruder from climbing over it. The fence is however no impediment to the tanks which just drive right through it, in the process uprooting large pieces of the structure from the ground. The mech suits and infantry flood through the gap created and continue their march towards the building. Little wonder my minders are standing at the window slack jawed at the sight. I lunge at Tubby''s back and stab the IV drip straight into his neck. Right on cue, I hear the sound of the IV bag being compressed and a huge glut sedative rushes down the drip. Tubby flares his core and attempts to struggle, but the sedative hits him like the proverbial truck and his entire body relaxes against his will. As Tubby''s spirit core flickers intermittently as he struggles against the drug, I draw the automatic pistol holstered at his side and clumsily flick the safety. Man, its a lot more difficult to do stuff like this without the core helping out. The goon whirls about and draws his saber in one smooth motion. In response I pull Tubby''s limp body against me like a shield and press the barrel of the gun against his head. The guard''s saber lowers at this sight and I take the opportunity to take stock of my situation. Can''t escape through the window, its barred and I don''t have the means of forcing it open without using the core. That means I have to take the long way out of here. I pull Tubby towards the Medical Room''s door while keeping the gun on his head and my eyes on the goon. I lean Tubby against the wall with the gun still trained on him and open the door with my freed hand. Sweating profusely, I then put my hostage under a weak choke hold and depart from the Medical Room with him in tow. The guard soundlessly follows us with narrowed eyes, saber at the ready. "Where''s the exit?" I demand. Tubby moans incoherently in response while the guard looks on expressionlessly in silence. Shit, I don''t have time to play games with these guys. Who knows when Tubby will recover from the sedative. There''s also the issue of being caught in the crossfire between SOPO and ORPO. I plant the gun against Tubby''s leg and fire a shot, the gun''s report echoing throughout the corridor. Tubby makes a listless sound of displeasure at the injury and blood spurts from the wound. Is he going to bleed out? Who cares, as long as he doesn''t expire before I get out of here. "Where''s the exit!" I shout angrily over the blaring alarm. The guard unhappily says, "Down the corridor to the main building''s reception. That''s the only way in or out of the detention block." I spy the set of handcuffs and a holstered revolver hanging from the guard''s belt and snap out an order, "Handcuff yourself to the door and slide your belt and weapons to me." The muscle hesitates for a moment but complies when I aim the pistol at Tubby''s other leg. In no time at all his left arm is secured to the door knob and he halfheartedly tosses his equipment belt and saber in my direction, the items landing at my feet with a clatter. Grunting in satisfaction I level the pistol at the helpless guard and fire off a shot straight into his gut. The guard''s eyes widen in alarm and his core flares, causing the bullet to pancake against his body, resulting in a shallow wound. I snarl and begin emptying the pistol''s clip into my target, my finger continuously pulling the trigger until there''s only a dry click and the empty cartridge is released from the gun''s frame. The guard slowly slides to the ground, his right hand bravely holding in the ruptured organs that threaten to spill out from his blasted open stomach. He glares at me hatefully, and I realize that the wound is already starting to heal as the gaping hole starts to slowly close up. Guns really aren''t worth all that much in this world after all. Dropping Tubby to the floor, I pick up the discarded revolver and get back to blasting away at the wounded guard. The impact of the third shot from the revolver causes the guard''s back to explode outwards, spraying guts and blood all over the wall as the light goes out of his eyes. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. As I am contemplating whether or not to deal with Tubby now or keep him around as a hostage, the entire building is rocked by a series of explosions right to the foundations. And the worst thing is, the explosions aren''t stopping. They erupt at regular spaced intervals without any sign of dying down and are occasionally joined by the staccato burst of gunfire. ORPO must have begun to shell the building using those tanks of theirs. I need to move, otherwise I might very well be buried under the wreckage once ORPO is done here. Deciding to hang on to Tubby as a precaution, I secure my hold on him and push forward towards the exit. ..... "Inspector Scott! We''re forcing them back!" the SOPO officer in formation next to me cheers happily. I take in the surroundings of the wrecked reception area as a bone white mech suit desperately backpedals after my spirit sword had cleaved off both its arms. Another swing from my spirit sword pierces the armored cockpit, ending the life of the ORPO pilot. The mech suit sags to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, joining its comrades already littering the floor of the reception. My long hair flows freely down my back, the neat bun undone by a missed swing from the mech suit I just took down. My colleagues and I stand tall amidst a sea of white against a backdrop of red. Mundanes are really no match for mages. Guns, mecha, all these tools cannot make up for the fundamental inferiority of ORPO. I frown when I realize that Hernandez had already disappeared from the scene. That rat must have run like the coward he is the moment things started looking rough for his side. The remaining mech suits rally and hold their position, giving the riflemen cover to fire their weapons. The ORPO infantry kneel and their guns begin vomiting out a relentless barrage of lead at us. Pathetic. If volley firing is all it took to drive back mages, then humanity wouldn''t have lost so much during the Millennium War. At my signal, all the SOPO officers raise their sabers and with a series of lightning fast flicks, deflect the ineffectual stream of gunfire. More and more riflemen begin piling into the reception, adding to the weight of the firepower being thrown at us. I roll my eyes and keep deflecting their useless attacks. ORPO is what happens when the past refuses to acknowledge that it should remain in the past. Obsolete tactics used by obsolete people. An irrelevant organization, that should have been consigned to the rubbish dump long before things got this serious. This world belongs to mages, and no amount of ranting from people like Hernandez about the perceived unfairness is going to change things. And guess who decided to show up again. Hernandez stands behind the line of riflemen, shouting into a radio. "They''re pinned down. Now! Open the breaches now!" Hernandez''s roars in his hoarse smoker''s voice. The entire building shakes as the tanks open fire on the building at Hernandez''s signal. But reception is left completely untouched from the attack. After a moment of bewilderment, my mind makes sense of what is going on, causing my spirits to sink. I got too overconfident and forgot about ORPO''s one big advantage over us. Their overwhelming numbers. "Fall back to the motor pool!" I order my colleagues, "We cannot hold this place!" A ripple of confusion spreads across the formation, but my colleagues trust me enough to follow me at my word. The formation begins to break away under fire as the mech suits slowly begin to creep towards us. Hernandez is using the tanks to create openings for his men to charge through. If we stay at reception, we will eventually get surrounded by the ORPO troops moving in from both sides. At least at the motor pool we have a chance of managing a breakthrough of the siege we are in. As we make our way down the corridor with Hernandez nipping on our heels, I see mech suits and infantry pouring through a nearby hole in the wall. Its too late, we are already flanked. My colleagues, no, my friends begin to succumb to the attacks tearing away at both ends of the formation. "Charge!" I shout and raise my sword high. Its impossible to fight off so many opponents at once. We need to cut a way through as quickly as possible. I rush headlong into the incoming reinforcements, with my friends right behind me, their sabers gleaming in the fluorescent light. A wall comprised of the mecha marches forward to rebuff us as Hernandez''s unit gleefully fires away at our unprotected backs. I gather all my strength and swing wildly at my opponents, at this range its impossible to miss. Step by bloody step, we carve our way towards escape. "Inspector help!" my neighbor in the formation screams in pain as a massive ax carried by one of the mech suits slams into his shoulder. But I can''t help. I need to keep pushing forward or I will be next. I lower my head to avoid the sight of the ax hacking the man into mince as he screams at us, his friends who have abandoned him. As I free myself from the meat grinder, the sibilant hiss of static begins cutting into the alarm sounding throughout HQ. The PA system must have gotten damaged in the fight. The static mocks me for my failure as a leader as the formation I lead falls apart in bloody heaps, evidence of my failed gamble. There is nothing that I can do for my friends, not now when its too late. Soon, I stand alone against the tide. With nowhere else to turn, I face the stampeding ORPO force and flare my spirit. I will not fall here. Not when there is still a chance for me to be with Tensei. The blade of my spirit sword begins to crack as the power builds. I shut my eyes. And throw the sword up as hard as I can. An earsplitting explosion tears through the area, and I barely remain standing as the blast wave from the spell slams against me, pulling at my hair. The alarm fails completely, the speakers occasionally emitting only static. But other than that, silence reigns after the ringing in my ears passes. I open my eyes and see the entire corridor shrouded in dust and grit, the walls and floors pockmarked with craters. Through the gloom, I make out the wreckage of the mech suits and the piled up corpses of the infantry, all tossed together in an obscene pyramid, fresh blood pooling at the base. Its over, for now. I need to leave this place before more ORPO reinforcements arrive. I hear them gathering just outside the building, their jeers breaking the silence. The motor pool should have a car that I can use to make my escape from here. To return to Tensei''s side. I stride down the corridor through the churned up grit and to my surprise come face to face with the man who should have been leading us in the first place. Hartley kneels before me with a gun pressed to his head, whimpering feebly while bleeding freely from a leg wound. And menacing him is the person I hoped to put behind bars. Gallant. Year 1999 "Professor Naiberg," the pilot shouts over the buzz of the cargo plane''s turbofans, "we have reached the marked jump point at the Great Northern Rift." Naiberg fidgets with his neatly trimmed beard while scanning the bank of monitors before him that have been mounted into the plane''s hold. The feed from the plane''s externally mounted camera shows a churning wall of murky fog just ahead. The Great Northern Rift. It might look like bog standard fog, but in reality it might as well be an impassable wall. Remotely gathered data showed that the slow, relentless movement of the mist was caused by a powerful spatial anomaly that lurked somewhere within. Any ship or plane that attempted to traverse the Rift would be swiftly torn apart by the unseen forces governing the area as evidenced by the pieces of wreckage that would be spit out soon afterwards. The costs in blood and treasure soon became too great, and explorers decided not to challenge the Great Northern Rift any further, leaving its secrets unmolested. Man went elsewhere to satisfy his curiosity, but the results were the same. The age of discovery ended as soon as it began, for no matter where man turned, he would be hemmed in by the unconquerable rifts. The Lesser Rifts of the East and West. The Great Rifts of the North and South. The limits of man''s world. Unbeatable. Unbreakable. Until today. "We can perform the Rift Break at your signal Professor." a man in sloppy military battle dress bearing an eye patch confirms. Tattoos squirm like fat, bloated worms across the uncovered patches of the man''s skin, sometimes crawling all the way up to his face before sliding back downwards. The hint of a jagged scar peeks out from the edge of the man''s eye patch. Naiberg smiles weakly and responds, "You have faith in my work High Shaman?" The pilot cuts in unexpectedly, "Beats going back to fighting the war Professor. Probable death over certain death for the win." The Shaman shrugs, "I just recovered from having my face slashed open by a crazy wolf man in the South American theater. Being here is an improvement to be honest." "Ha." Naiberg laughs humorlessly, "They''re calling it the Millennium War you know? The end days. We are the world''s last great hope." The Shaman sighs in resignation, "What does the top think we will achieve here? Can we even cross the fog in the first place?" Naiberg gazes at the rift breaker device, a bulky, clanking piece of machinery attached to the rear of the plane. Technicians load large pieces of spirit crystal to serve as the machine''s fuel rods while an integrated screen shows the machine''s progress through its self-diagnostic routine. Everything seems to be in order. Not that it means much. Naiberg turns back to the Shaman and replies, "In theory, yes. The angels and demons have been pouring into our world through breaches in the eastern and western rifts. We should be able to do the same here." The Shaman folds his arms and frowns, "But this is a Great Rift. I heard that the anomaly here is much more powerful than the ones in either the east or west." "The principle of crossing it should be the same." Naiberg answers, "We have more than enough spirit crystal to perform the jump."This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. "So, uh, Prof," the pilot hesitates for a moment before continuing, "what makes you think you can succeed where everyone else died?" Naiberg responds with rehearsed confidence, having been asked this question several times already, "Our ancestors made their attempts before magic became commonplace. We have both the method and the means. We will succeed." "And then what?" the Shaman asks, "How is this crossing supposed to save us?" "The P5 hopes that there might be something on the other side that can turn things around." Naiberg muses, "At the very least, if we succeed, an exodus of humanity away from the war would be possible." "Better not mess up then." the Shaman graces Naiberg with a crooked smile. "I don''t intend to." Naiberg smiles broadly, "I''ve got a wife and daughter waiting back home." "Now, jump!" And the whole world turns upside down. .... Turbulence batters the plane as it struggles against a force beyond anything it was built to resist. The turbofans wheeze and the entire air frame judders as if it is moments away from breaking up. In the plane''s interior, amidst the sour smell of sweat, desperation reigns. "Your device is on fire Professor!" the Shaman yells as the technicians bring fire extinguishers to bear, battling back the flames consuming the rift breaker. "We''re almost through the fog!" the pilot declares, "Just a bit more!" Naiberg wipes the sweat from his forehead as he continues to monitor the rift breaker''s diagnostics. If they fail now, all the research and expense would have been for nothing. There is only one option open for this team. Succeed or die. "Shaman!" Naiberg orders, "Disable the rift breaker''s safeties! One final push is all we need!" The Shaman grimaces and slams down a large lever located on the side of the burning contraption. The machine howls in protest and the on screen indicators swing hard towards the red. The flames pouring from the machine regain their previous intensity and a choking haze spreads throughout the plane. "Impossible." Naiberg murmurs, "I got all the calculations correct. Its almost as if the rift breaker is self-sabotaging itself." The Shaman groans and seizes his head, "I hear it. Yes. No machine can cross the rift. Only the call of powerful magic can get the fog to part." "Guys! I''m getting a really weird reading on the instruments!" the pilot suddenly cries, "There''s some kind of beacon far ahead. Its signalling us, I think?" Naiberg''s head grows heavy, burdened by the weight of a thousand whispers. A sudden cry comes from the depths of his heart, the primal shout of the soul itself. The shout of a lost child, yearning for his mother. The mother that he never knew. The only mother that he needs. "Mother!" the Shaman screams and scrambles towards the rift breaker''s controls, knocking the technicians aside. He works the terminal frantically, opening up the fuel rod intakes. Naiberg quickly steps up and without any hesitation, shoves both his arms into a pair of open intakes. "Mother! Take my magic! Guide us!" Naiberg shrieks, with his head raised, declaring his intent to the heavens. The Shaman violently stabs the control panel with his finger and the fuel rod intakes close, slicing off both of Naiberg''s arms. Blood is spilled. The sacrifice has been made. And mother is satisfied. "We must ride the beacon''s signal to the source." the Shaman says, "Salvation! Salvation is near!" Naiberg collapses weakly on the ground, blood soaking his shirt. The Shaman hurriedly casts a healing spell, sealing the wounds, but leaving the man a cripple. But so what? Humanity is saved. No. Everyone has been saved. Deep in his heart Naiberg knows this. What the team has accomplished today has secured the future of not just humanity, but for all life on this world as well. The plane sails forward, driven by a divine wind. All the while the rift breaker coughs angrily in protest, smoke and flame inundating the whole plane like a funeral shroud. But mother''s power holds fast and as she promised, the fog parts, revealing the forgotten North. "We did it!" the pilot exclaims, "We actually did it!" The technicians cheer as this news, giving each other high-fives. And from the depths of the rift breaker comes a loud bang, the final protest from the much abused machine before it expires completely. The plane flies under the clear blue sky, over ruined skyscrapers and towers of bone, the graveyard of a civilization. The first visitors this land has had for countless generations. Onward. Ever onward. The Cradle "You guys alright back there?" the pilot asks, "Things seemed a little, uh, wild just now." Naiberg wheezes in exhaustion, the stress and injuries getting to him, "Magic, pilot. We were just doing magic. Pay it no mind. Keep following the beacon, it will lead us to our destination." The Shaman hurriedly directs the technicians to clean up the blood as best as they can and whispers to Naiberg, "How are we going to return to base? The rift breaker is completely broken." Naiberg frowns and admonishes his colleague, "You heard mother as well right? She will guide us back, just like she is guiding us now. Or are you afraid to be the one to make the next sacrifice?" The Shaman purses his lips and retreats to the rear of the plane, sinking into contemplation while Naiberg shuts his eyes and continues, "You and I are the only mages on this plane and I don''t think I''ll survive a repeat performance. There is no one else who can do it Bobby. You must be prepared." Bobby nods and grunts in assent from his corner of the plane. Naiberg sighs and goes back to scanning the monitors before him. Bobby might be a problem later, but he will eventually have to come round. As mother said, only magic can clear a path through the fog. If Bobby doesn''t want to do the needful, then none of them were leaving this place, plain and simple. From the camera feed being streamed on to the monitors, it looks like the entire team would not be able to stay here for long anyway. With the bird''s eye view provided to him, all Naiberg sees is a blasted city dotted with lines of ruined skyscrapers broken up with massive craters torn into the ground. What''s left of the silent roads are laid out in a neat grid pattern, with sharp right angles dividing the silent metropolis into blocks. At the major intersections of the metropolis are the second big attraction of this place, the towers of bone, piled as high as the skyscrapers themselves. "You seeing this? Who in the world does something like this?" the pilot asks as the plane continues is trek towards their destination. Bobby rouses himself and replies, "Its a message. Whomever killed these people wanted everyone else to know they did it. Like how the Romans and Mongols would massacre civilians to make a point." "Shit." the pilot grumbles, "Is that ''whomever'' still around? I don''t want to step on their toes." Naiberg looks up from his screen and answers, "I doubt it. Look carefully pilot. The bone towers are crumbling to dust. No birds, no grass or trees. There''s nothing alive here. We are looking at the end state of a long forgotten war." "This isn''t a caveman village Professor." Bobby replies dourly, "I doubt medieval peasants could build skyscrapers either. There''s something very wrong here." "Yeah. You see that building in the distance?" the pilot asks while pointing to a large, low building with a ancient looking concrete tower standing nearby, "That''s an airport, I''m sure of it. The runways have eroded away, but the air traffic control tower is still standing." "Everything does look more modern than what we have at home," Naiberg concedes reluctantly, "except that all the buildings are clearly rotting away because of age and neglect." "Damn. Tell me straight Prof," the pilot exclaims, "did we travel through the rift into the future?" "No?" Naiberg says bemusedly, "Mother told me nothing about that." "Mother?" the pilot repeats dumbly. Bobby pipes up, "Mother is mother. You''ll understand later. Anyway, we have bigger problems. Like the fact that this place can''t support life at all. Humanity cannot flee here from the war." Naiberg smiles gently, "Bobby, we made it through the rift for a reason. You said it yourself just now. Salvation is here. Just because the original plan is no longer on the table doesn''t mean that all hope is gone." "Mother will provide, is that what you''re saying?" Bobby asks with his arms folded, pacing nervously. Naiberg nods, "We ride the red thread of destiny, Shaman. When I made the sacrifice, I saw the red thread leading us to a rich reward, something that will save us all. You saw it too didn''t you?" Bobby licks his lips and looks away before saying, "Yeah. I saw it too. Mother promised me a great power, but I would need to work for it." Naiberg laughs, realizing what''s getting Bobby all worked up. So mother had already told the Shaman what needed to be done and Bobby is balking at it. Its no surprise, Bobby''s nerves must have been shaken at what happened on the journey here. He''ll come round in time though. "Like, maybe I don''t want that power?" Bobby asks in a soft voice, "We could try making do without it?" Naiberg makes a soft reprimand upon hearing this, "Can we leave this place without your power Bobby?" Bobby dully shakes his head and looks down. ''We cannot be afraid of making sacrifices." Naiberg reassures the Shaman as firmly as possible. ...... The plane descends smoothly, servos whining as the landing gear engages. The plane hits the dusty ground hard, bouncing alarmingly as it skids across the cracked, parched earth. "Hold on!" the pilot shouts as the brakes clamp hard on to the wheels, the momentum causing the plane''s passengers to pitch forwards. The plane slowly begins to grind to a controllable speed and the pilot taxis it to a patch of decaying asphalt. "The beacon is coming from the crater in the distance." the pilot says while shutting down the engines, "We''ll need to walk from here."This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Why can''t you take us closer?" Naiberg grumbles as he regains his balance. The pilot gets up from his seat and opens the plane''s cargo doors as he answers, "Too much loose dirt there. Damages the turbofans." Bobby signals the entire group and addresses them, "Pilot, stay here with the plane. Everyone else form up and lets get going." "Naw!" the pilot protests, "Could I come with you guys? Its scary out here by yourself. Come on prof, be a pal." Naiberg nods silently at the Shaman who shrugs indifferently in return. A bright blue sky wanders above the group as they file out of the plane. Its really a good day for a brisk walk. "Something feels off about this place." Naiberg muses as the line shuffles forward towards the crater. "Its the silence." Bobby explains, "No machinery and no wildlife. This place is really completely dead." The group reaches the lip of the crater and survey the source of the beacon. Right at the center of the crater is an absolutely massive chunk of metal painted in peeling gray. A massive hole covers the entirety of one end of the wreckage as if it had been crudely chopped away from a larger whole. Naiberg squints to examine the faded words stenciled into the wreckage''s side. "Salvation. This is it." Naiberg says, "But what are we looking at? Where is the rest of it?" "Not a clue." Bobby answers, "We just have to keep moving to get our answers." "I don''t like this." the pilot murmurs as the group slides down into the crater, "We shouldn''t be here." "Why is that?" Bobby responds. "The crater." the pilot shifts about nervously, "Someone wanted to destroy this thing really badly. Remember what I said about treading on toes?" "Have faith." Naiberg says plainly as they approach the massive breach in the wreckage. The darkness within looms ominously before the group, daring them to proceed further. Naiberg steps up without a second thought and plunges into the void with his team reluctantly following him. The silence within the wreckage is overwhelming, the only sound being the clang of footsteps against metal. The darkness is absolute and panic creeps up on the team as their sight fails. Trespassers. They have trespassed in a place where they have no business. They must leave now, before their punishment becomes due. A low moan of distress escapes from the pilot''s lips. The footsteps of the technicians waver for the barest moment. "Mother has shown me the way. Follow my voice." Naiberg says with inhuman calm. The procession continues fumbling forward in the darkness, the blind leading the blind. And finally, they hear a noise. A hissing sound of a door sliding open. As the party troops forward, they see a dim light just ahead of them. "No." Bobby whines, "It can''t be. I don''t want to. I don''t want to." Naiberg murmurs somberly, his voice echoing, "Be strong. We all have our parts to play." The hum of ancient machinery starting up and the crackle of long forgotten circuits coming back to life. The sudden noise resounds like thunder and light floods the room. Banks of computers. Surgical instruments scattered all over the place. And in the center of the room itself is a glass cylinder mounted into the ceiling, holding an yellowed human skeleton bearing the horns of a goat and the petrified wings of an angel. Naiberg falls to his knees in prostration while Bobby collapses, tears streaming down his face. "Mother, your children are here." Naiberg declares proudly. ... "So you have loaded everything then?" Naiberg asks the pilot while inspecting the cargo that had been loaded into the plane. "Yeah." the pilot replies, rubbing the back of his head, "The technicians grabbed all the doohickeys in the room you told them to grab. Look I don''t know whether I should be saying this but ..." Naiberg graciously gestures at the pilot to continue. The pilot swallows hard and presses on, "That skeleton in the wreckage is no mother mine prof, no matter what you say. And Bobby has been spacing out ever since we got back to the plane. He summoned those snake tats of his and has spent the last few hours coiled up with them in a corner." "And?" Naiberg queries with a raised eyebrow. "And the whole thing''s a mistake is what I''m saying!" the pilot snaps, "We''ll regret coming here, mark my words prof." Naiberg rolls his eyes, dismissing the protest, "Just get ready to take off. Leave the Shaman to me." Another small mind, unable to comprehend mother''s generosity, Naiberg curses inwardly. And now there''s the matter of Bobby, who''s too much of a coward to do what must be done. Naiberg stalks towards the Shaman, who lies on the floor crying quietly to himself. "Bobby." Naiberg says, punctuating his statement with a hard kick into the Shaman''s side, "I made my sacrifice. Its time for you to do your part." Bobby sits up, his eyes red from the crying. He nods silently and the snakes coiled around his body scatter throughout the plane. At Naiberg''s signal, the plane roars to life and takes off, gliding across the uncaring sky. .... "Bobby." Naiberg orders, "Its time. We have almost reached the rift." Bobby stares forward blankly, completely unresponsive. "Didn''t you hear me? I said -agh!" Naiberg''s demand gets stuck in his throat as a sharp pain erupts at his ankle. A sinister numbness spreads throughout Naiberg''s body as he hits the floor, completely paralyzed. The Shaman''s tattoo snake slithers off Naiberg''s leg to coil around its master''s body once more. Throughout the plane the technicians collapse as well, stricken by Bobby''s sudden attack. The pilot lies slumped in his chair, a tattoo snake wrapped snugly around his neck. Bobby turns his dead eyes to regard Naiberg and speaks, "The goddess told me that we had attracted the attention of her enemy, the Tyrant. She could only safely send one of us back home. She chose me." Naiberg''s mouth works desperately to scream, but no sound comes out. His face morphs into a look of utter sorrow, knowing that he had been betrayed by the one he loves the most. Betrayed by his own mother. Bobby continues flatly, "All of you will find repose within me. That is the compensation provided to you by the goddess. I will bear your sins for you until my dying day." Naiberg struggles, but his core is weak from the previous sacrifice. There is no escaping this destiny. The destiny he embraced on his own accord. Bobby speaks one final time. "Goodbye." ..... Bobby. The man who calls himself Archmage Naiberg stares at the name sewn on the uniform of the ORPO rifleman that lies dying on the ground. Naiberg shuts his eyes and lets the memory wash over him. At the end of the day, it wan''t his choice right? This outcome was what everyone had wanted. "Archmage." the SOPO officer accompanying him says, "We must retreat, ORPO has disrupted the ritual and they are storming the building as we speak. Representative Michael is sending troops to pick us up." "Michael." Naiberg says, "I''m finished, aren''t I?" The SOPO officer is diplomatically silent at this query. There''s nothing that needs to be said. "No Perfecta. No results." Naiberg laughs harshly, "And a massive crisis caused by me to boot. Be honest. I''m not long for this world right?" The SOPO guard answers cautiously, "Perhaps the Representative may show clemency. You have served the goddess for a long time after all." "The goddess." Naiberg muses, "I''ve always had second thoughts about her you know. Well, better get on with the dying I suppose." A rubbery arm suddenly shoots out from Naiberg''s back and slams the guard to the floor. Naiberg waives both his hands about in a flippant manner as he sing songs, "Blah, blah, child of the goddess, find peace within me, sins, etc." The guard barely has time to scream before his soul is wrenched from his body. As the guard''s body thrashes futilely on the floor, Naiberg''s features begin to shift, his massive gut shrinking and his body bulking up with muscle. In no time at all, he is a spitting image of the guard that he just consumed. As the transformation completes, the rubbery arm dissolves into acidic sludge, melting away the original. "There we go." the man who calls himself Theo says, "I wouldn''t ordinarily be bold enough to do this, but things are going to reach a tipping point soon." "It might be time to finally strike out on my own." Spirited Away "Why are you standing in the corner of the room?" Rose irritably asks Sera, "I want to have a private conversation with Tensei." "Rose, its alright." I try to protest from the hospital bed but I don''t think Rose heard my voice. I just woke up a few hours ago and still feel pretty weak. The last few moments of the battle against the Alpha One were a blur and I don''t really have any memory of what had happened before I collapsed. My last coherent thought was diving into the pit to rescue Rose, after that, everything becomes a jumble in my mind. I know that I fought the Alpha One and had some kind of quarrel with Gallant, but the details of the event simply elude me. When I came to, I found myself in this private ward with Sera standing by the side serving as my bodyguard. Sera initially refused to talk about what had happened, saying that I needed my rest. But upon my urging, she did tell me that Rose is recovering in the same hospital and that my collapse was caused by a sudden adrenaline crash. Sera does not bother looking in Rose''s direction as she responds, "Why are you here anyway? Shouldn''t you be resting as well after being swallowed by a giant monster?" Rose scowls and her voice sharpens to an edge, "Thank you for the concern. Now leave so that I can talk to Tensei." Sera finally turns to face Rose, and there is a smug expression on her face, "As Tensei''s bodyguard I cannot leave his side. Just pretend I''m not here. Tensei doesn''t mind. Right, Tensei?" Sera, what are you doing? Don''t throw the ball to me, especially since I have nothing to do with it! I begin to sweat as both Rose and Sera begin to focus their gazes upon me, waiting for my response. I need a distraction, now! "Where''s Irene?" I blurt out. Good thing I can think on my feet. That should shift the conversation away from me. Sera adjusts her uniform as she answers, "Inspector Scott went back to HQ a few days ago. She wasn''t badly injured enough to require hospitalization. I volunteered to watch over you while Madam sorts things out on her end." Rose grips me by the arm and gushes, "And its all because of you Tensei! You were so brave during the fight. Irene wasn''t hurt because you charged in and didn''t listen to that coward trying to give us orders." I laugh awkwardly while scratching the back of my head, "Well, it was all very heat of the moment. I wouldn''t really call it bravery." "I don''t care what you call it." Rose smiles as she begins to snuggle up to me, "If you didn''t jump into the pit, I would have died." I blush furiously as Rose''s body rubs against mine, her fragrance overwhelming my senses. I turn to Sera for help but she expressionlessly looks away and fidgets with the grip of her saber. "Hey, I heard that you said something as well when confronting Gallant." Rose murmurs throatily, "Say it again for me, please." As my mind is thrown into a frenzy at what is happening before me, Sera suddenly coughs loudly snapping both Rose and I out of our mutual trance. "You said to pretend that you weren''t here." Rose complains to Sera with a pout, "Anyway, have you bathed in the last few days?" Sera''s lips are pressed into a thin line as she stomps towards Rose. Sera hooks her arm under one of Rose''s armpits and begins to pull. Rose tries to hang on to me like a barnacle but she is slowly and surely being pried loose. "Alright. Fun''s over." Sera says flatly, "Patients need their rest. Both patients. And yes, I have been using the shower in your suite, Rose." "Tensei." Rose lilts as she is being dragged away, "I''ll come back once this spoilsport goes off duty. Wait for me!" Sera winks slyly at me, "I spent the last few nights here with you, Tensei. I never go off duty." With that Sera continues to haul a deflated Rose towards the door. Just as I''m about to face palm at the antics of my friends, the door suddenly bursts open and Kira rushes into the room. "Tensei, we need to get you moved to Ascension Tower as soon as possible." Kira gasps in a fluster, "The doctors have said that you should be fit enough to be discharged after two or three days." My jaw drops at this sudden change in the mood. "Slow down Kira." I say, "What''s going on?" But Kira doesn''t pay any attention to me as she is wholly absorbed at staring at Sera, as if Sera''s a unicorn or something like that. On her own part, Sera begins to shift her feet nervously at the attention and plasters an awkward smile on her face. "Why are you wearing that uniform?" Kira asks a wholly unexpected, and frankly silly, question. "Because I am a SOPO officer?" Sera answers in a slow, cautious voice, not really understanding what got Kira acting so weird. Kira raises her voice in shock, "You don''t know? Why aren''t you with the Inspector in the first place?"This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Sera tilts her head and asks, ''I''ve been with Tensei the whole while. What are you talking about?" "Can someone tell me what''s going on?" Rose asks exasperatedly as she frees herself from Sera''s distracted grip. "Mike sent me a video." Kira murmurs, "Hang on, let me get out my phone." Kira fishes out a cell decorated with cute bunny stickers from a pocket on her jeans and begins tapping away at it. Satisfied, she holds up the phone for all of us to see. .... "As reported earlier, ORPO had launched a raid against the SOPO headquarters involving not only regular officers, but also deploying mecha and tanks supplied by the P5." the newscaster says against the footage of the SOPO HQ burning, with parts of the building blasted into rubble. The camera pans and shows the HQ being surrounded by tanks while mech suits in ORPO colors drag out SOPO officers from the wreckage and clap on the handcuffs. Regular ORPO officers then take over and roughly shove the prisoners into trucks to be driven away. The camera then zooms in on a man wearing an ugly trench coat leading a portly SOPO officer towards the mech suits at gunpoint. "Commander Hernandez confirms that the former Senior Inspector of SOPO is currently in ORPO''s custody and is being questioned on his involvement with the various crimes committed under his watch." the newscaster continues. "Isn''t that Gallant?" I exclaim having recognized that ridiculous looking trench coat immediately. The footage continues, showing Gallant kicking the Senior Inspector to the ground and four mech suits each grabbing the prone man by a limb. A skinny, mustachioed man smoking a cigar emerges from behind the mech suits and greets Gallant with a friendly clap on the shoulder. Both of them share a joke as the mech suits carry off the Senior Inspector to who knows where. "No way. No way." Sera mumbles completely unbelieving, "No one would allow ORPO to get away with this." "We managed to interview the Commander in a press conference held just after the raid." the newscaster reports. The feed then cuts to a recorded interview of the ORPO Commander at the site. The cigar chomping, mustachioed face of the man who greeted Gallant appears on screen. "We conducted this raid based on overwhelming evidence that SOPO was using prisoners for unsanctioned and illegal experiments." Hernandez crows to the camera, "And we secured a mountain of more evidence and eyewitnesses from SOPO''s detention block. ORPO managed to save some of the prisoners, but for many of them, we were too late." Hernandez then clasps a hand over his heart and makes a show of sniffling a little before continuing, "ORPO will send what we have to the P5 as the administrative authority over policing. As for what happens next, its up to them." The newscaster takes up the thread again, "The P5 in today''s statement has decreed the dissolution of SOPO and will take possession of all the organization''s assets. ORPO has directed any remaining SOPO personnel to surrender themselves to the nearest ORPO officer urgently." Impossible. How could any of this have happened? Just as my mind is reeling, the picture of Sera''s dad appears on screen, his bushy unkempt beard making his wild eyed stare look more intimidating than usual. "The raid has also caught a high profile individual in its dragnet." the newscaster continues, "ORPO reports that Archmage Naiberg was at the detention block while the raid was in progress and was killed resisting arrest. ORPO has not issued a statement yet regarding what the Archmage had been doing there. In other news ..." .... "Sera, are you alright?" I cautiously ask. No response. Sera just keeps staring blankly into the distance as if she was catatonic. Kira quickly gets my attention and explains, "Tensei, Mike told me that with SOPO gone, you have no protection from the Legion. We need to move you to the Tower quickly before they try anything again." "Why the Tower?" I ask, my head spinning, "Wouldn''t the P5 arrange another bodyguard for me?" Sera comes to and sighs tiredly, "They might, they might not. You''ve been fighting Gallant recently Tensei, and it looks like the a faction within the P5 is the puppet master behind both him and ORPO. Father was close to the P5 as well and ORPO killed him anyway. The Delegates favoring you might no longer be able to help." I frown in consternation before throwing out some of my thoughts, "But accepting the Representative''s help might put me on a permanent collision course with both the Legion and the P5. And there''s Rose to consider as well. I need to talk to Irene before I decide." Kira hesitates for a moment before saying, "We don''t know where Inspector Scott is. No one does. I was hoping that she was with Sera actually." "Madam!" Sera wails before catching herself. She then hugs her sides and loses herself in her thoughts once more. Rose raises her head and queries, "What''s this about SOPO officers needing to surrender? Does it mean that Irene and Sera are in danger?" Kira shakes her head, indicating that she does not know. Sera simply slumps against the wall, completely defeated by events. "Kira, you got here by car right?" Rose asks, her confident poise returning. "By van actually." Kira clarifies. "Alright. This is what we''ll do." Rose directs, "Kira, go to the ward next door. That''s where I''m staying. My servants had brought me a few sets of clothes from the manor when they heard I had been hospitalized. Grab the clothes so Sera can change out of the uniform." "Thank you." Sera says softly, bowing her head to Rose. Rose waives Sera off and continues talking to Kira, "Then you will take both of us to my manor. I''ll arrange to hide Sera there for the time being until things quieten down. Maybe as a maid." "Gotcha." Kira gives a thumbs up, "I don''t need to go with you guys though, the van has a driver. I''ll stick around with Tensei until you come back Rose." Rose huffs, "Hmph. If Tensei is really in danger I suppose its for the best. I''ll return as quickly as I can then." ..... "I hope everyone will be safe." I murmur while Kira sits on the chair next to my bed. "Wow. Never thought that Rose was so take charge." Kira muses, "She''s really quite amazing isn''t she?" "Yeah, she is." I concur, "She shouldn''t be out there running about, but you really can''t stop Rose once she gets an idea." Kira nods in reply and closes her eyes, lost in contemplation. "Penny for your thoughts?" I ask. Kira answers in a soft far-away voice, "Which is more important Tensei? Love or duty?" Huh. That''s really out of left field. But I did ask, so I suppose I''ll have to respond to Kira''s question. I rack my mind for what I hope is an honest answer. I love Sera. Do I love Irene? Not really no, but I do feel a certain obligation towards her, even if that obligation clashes with my love for Sera. "You need both," I declare, "Love is a part of life, and you can''t live life without embracing your duty. One must always be paired with the other to achieve happiness." Kira nods approvingly, "That answer''s so you Tensei. Thanks for telling me what I needed to hear." She then rises from the chair and straddles my body before I have a chance to react. "Hey. Hey. What''s going on here?" I ask while sweating profusely, a trill running up my spine. Isn''t this a bit too sudden? Kira''s fingers dig into my shoulders as she breathes down on me, "I want to be happy Tensei." "Let''s be happy together." Urban Camper I finish vigorously brushing my teeth and give my mouth a good gargle. I then open the wash basin''s tap to full blast and scrub my face down, savoring the cool sensation of the water splashing over my skin. I had taken a big dump earlier, so my morning ritual is just about done. Cracking my stiff neck, I dry myself off with the ream of toilet roll provided in the hotel''s washroom before heading back out to the lobby of the Imperial Regency. A mid range hotel located in the Red Perch Cape District that''s popular with business travelers, the Imperial Regency''s lobby would be best described as grand and bland. Marble floors, wood paneling and an unobtrusive check in counter. This ensemble is dominated by a tacky crystal chandelier hanging precariously from the ceiling. I wonder if that thing ever fell on anyone? It would be pretty embarrassing for the management if that happened. As I walk past the liveried staff while thinking idle thoughts, the doorman at the entrance gives me a dirty look as he opens the door for me with a shooing motion. I pay the doorman no mind as I stride out into the street towards a black SUV parked by the side of the street. Opening the driver''s side door, I climb into the vehicle and work my way to the rear, where the seats have been folded away to make space for a sleeping bag. A familiar lap top is set up next to the sleeping bag and the windows have been heavily tinted, ensuring that no one can look in. The SUV''s engine fires up without any prompting from me and it smoothly drives off, joining the early morning traffic. "You seem rather nonplussed this morning Transmigrator." The Voice observes as it rasps from the SUV''s radio, "I thought that you would be delighted at the upgrade I have arranged for your mode of conveyance." "I didn''t expect that I would be living in it though. Like some kind of car hobo." I remark sarcastically, "The more I work for you, the more I rise in the world." The Voice sniffs at my comment, "Pearls before swine. This SUV is a mobile place of power, allowing me to both repair your body on the move and perform deployments at short notice. You have spent the last few days sleeping here without any issue. I see no reason for you to complain now." After I parted ways with Hernandez at the SOPO HQ, I found this black SUV waiting for me by the side of the road, its passenger door swinging wide open the moment I approached. Quickly taking the hint, I crawled inside and collapsed on to the sleeping bag, finally succumbing to the stress of the past few days. Time passed in a haze while I alternated between deep sleep and brief, bleary waking moments. You can guess how thrilled I was when The Voice told me to go clean myself up in the Regency''s public washroom on the first day of my complete recovery from the previous misadventure. "Why didn''t you just book me a room in the hotel?" I grumble, "Didn''t know gods were so tight with money these days." The Voice rumbles, "For your safety, Transmigrator. Look at this." The laptop flickers to life and shows aerial surveillance footage of Six Trees Hills, the location of my previous hideout. I don''t notice anything unusual, but The Voice highlights several random people that are wandering around the area or just basically hanging out. The laptop then begins to show footage taken from the park where I enjoyed to chill out at. Once again, the Voice begins highlighting a bunch of randos that are just going about their business. A new window on the laptop''s screen opens, showing an overhead view of the abandoned store I had been using in the Dreaming Spires District. Several pedestrians that are passing by the store are painted an angry red on the screen. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. "All the highlighted men and women are recent arrivals from Neo-Cardiff." The Voice says, "It was an easy matter for me to match their faces to the passports they used to pass through immigration. All these unrelated individuals have opted to spend their time lounging around spots where you have been known to show up at. What does that tell you, Transmigrator?" "Shit." I exclaim before I can get a handle on my shock, "Its Gallant''s family. They''re sweeping the locations of where all the hideouts are located." "Indeed." The Voice confirms, "While Siobahn''s men have not managed to locate my places of power, they have nevertheless made actually using those locations thoroughly impractical. You would be quickly discovered and no doubt attacked." "I can handle a couple of flatfoots." I rebut, "Anyone who spots me wouldn''t be making it back to report to Siobahn." The laptop then switches to a feed from an aerial drone patrolling a grassy field. And in the field is a massive assembly of humans and angels going through combat drills, all the while presided over a figure I instantly recognize. Chance. "Based on what I have gathered from intercepted communications," The Voice rasps, "Every single one of those men and women have been tasked with your capture. Even discounting the presence of Master Chance, how do you fancy your chances against that pack?" My face pales at the realization of how much trouble I am in. Siobahn is really pulling out all the stops this time. I don''t think I can talk my way out of a confrontation the next time we meet. No wonder The Voice wanted a mobile base. But that still doesn''t answer a question that has been nagging at me. "I recall that Siobahn stays at Red Perch Cape as well." I query, "Why are we roaming around this district then?" The Voice answers, "The safest place for you would be under her nose. Siobahn believes that you would have retreated to either Six Trees or the Dreaming Spires. This mistaken belief has allowed us to camp here unmolested for the past few days." As if to drive this point home, the SUV makes a turn and heads down a wide two way road that has a large public field located to the right. And sure enough, I see Siobahn''s band of muscle drilling under Chance''s watch as the SUV drives past the field, with no one the wiser. Damn, there seem to be a lot more of them when you''re at street level. "We going to deal with them?" I ask, narrowing my eyes, "What firepower have you prepared?" "Its too late for that." The Voice regretfully informs, "The window to handle the threat Siobahn poses has closed. We can only attempt to evade the blow that is to come." "What!" I exclaim, "How come?" The Voice explains, "Your capture by Archmage Naiberg had cost us too much time. That time has allowed Fate to stabilize the thread that Siobahn is moving down on. While we are not doomed because of this development, we must be ready to handle any complications that may arise." "Wonderful." I groan, "Anything else happen while I was playing sleeping beauty?" "There is good news and bad news." The Voice informs, "Which do you want to hear first?" "Good news please." I moan, "Spare my heart a little." The Voice rumbles, "Not just good news, but very good news. Transmigrator, I am pleased to report that we have generated a critical amount of instability. While not enough to destroy the doom path that we are on, readings from the Crossroads indicate that the black site is now vulnerable to attack. I have begun to draw up a plan for the assault." "And taking out the black site derails the doom path?" I press. "Yes, most certainly." The Voice confirms, "We are at the end of the tunnel. Just a bit more effort on our part and Fate''s little scheme against us will be relegated to the proverbial trashcan." "Alright. Cool." I nod, "And the bad news?" "Inspector Scott has disappeared." The Voice relates, "After you had allowed her to flee from the SOPO Headquarters, she began to drift aimlessly throughout The City, but in general she was moving gradually towards the Academy. Half an hour ago, I lost track of her. It is as if she had suddenly turned invisible. Most odd." Yeah. The whole thing at SOPO HQ was just weird. Before I could start to menace Big Tits with the gun or threaten to hurt her boss, Big Tits just walked past me, completely ignoring everything that was going on around her. Real anti-climatic, but it made my escape easier so I didn''t think much about it at the time. "That doesn''t sound too bad." I comment, "Big Tits can handle herself." "Unfortunately, there is more bad news." The Voice grimly states. Oh? "The Hero has been kidnapped." Faith of The Faithless "And you''re sure this will work Mike?" Kira asks me nervously, gazing at Tensei''s slumbering form that lies strapped on to the bed in one of the rooms of Ascension Tower. My personal guards, now dressed in the pure white of the Host instead of their original SOPO uniforms, monitor Tensei''s vital signs through the panoply of medical equipment that has been set up around him. One guard punches in the code to begin feeding a chemical cocktail to Tensei through an IV drip. I pat Kira reassuringly on the head and explain, "As long as Tensei is kept under a dream state, we''ll be able to enhance his body and mind without fear of any rejection effects." I go on to hand over a data print out to Kira for her to read through. Kira takes the document but makes an uncomprehending noise as the information completely flies over her head. Kira''s a useful idiot that I have a soft spot for, but it sometimes gets exhausting needing to explain everything to her. "That''s a record of Tensei''s spirit core output over the last few days." I say, "Look how the line on the graph keeps going up. Tensei''s growing stronger every single day." Kira hums for a few moments, taking in what I have told her. She finally manages to speak, "You said Tensei won''t ever leave me. How''re going to manage that?" I tap on a monitor displaying Tensei''s brainwave patterns and reply, "Mental conditioning Kira. We dose Tensei with pleasure inducing drugs whenever you sing to him. When the effect of your song begins to wear off, my men begin to deliver electric shocks to ensure Tensei associates separation from you with physical discomfort. We repeat the process until the aversion response is drilled into him." "What if Tensei realizes what we''re doing?" Kira protests, "He would never forgive me." I clasp my hands together and say gently with subdued confidence, "That is why your part in this is so important. Tensei needs to be kept within a dream so that his conscious mind does not reject what we are doing. I also have a secret weapon." "Secret weapon?" Kira blurts with her hand over her mouth. I grin, "I told you before that I was quite a mage in my youth right? Well, my area of expertise is the bonds between the body and soul. Once Tensei''s spirit core grows strong enough, I will draw it out, allowing him to reach his full potential as an immortal spirit. As for his body, it will be turned over to you." Kira goes blank in confusion before gathering herself, "What am I supposed to do with Tensei''s body?" I raise an eyebrow and gently remind Kira, "Fulfill your vow of course. You do need Tensei''s body to do both things do you? Tensei''s immortal spirit will be unflinchingly loyal to you thanks to the mental conditioning and once you decide to bring things to an end, his unresisting body will provide an easy means of doing so." "Oh!" Kira exclaims happily, "I suppose that make sense. I''ve already gotten started on the first part of my vow though." I smile ruefully. Its good to be young. "Representative." a guard disrupts the moment by announcing, "A helicopter is making its way to the landing pad. The passenger demands an immediate meeting with you." Just as I am about to ask the guard who dares to be so impertinent, he casts a pointed look at Kira. Kira gets the message and immediately says, "I''ll be back in my suite Mike. I don''t want to keep you from your business." I smile gratefully at Kira and signal one of my men to escort her back to the guest suite in Ascension Tower. I then walk down the corridor towards the elevator. Work never ends. .... I move past the toiling demons in suits assembling the generator sets and hauling barrels of pyroil into the newly expanded floor of the Tower. My guards fall in behind me as we make our way towards the makeshift helipad which doubles as the drone landing area, the hustle and bustle around us dying as everyone recognizes who I am. Procuring all these equipment and workers on short notice cost me dearly, but time is of the essence. Using myself as a benchmark, the blackguard will probably fully recover soon. We need to crack open Salvation before he strikes again, even though we have lost the Perfecta thanks to Naiberg''s recklessness. I can no longer hear milady in my dreams. The visions have stopped. That can only mean one thing. The Tyrant''s influence waxes while milady''s blessings wane in power. The blackguard will come soon, I know it, if only to finish things with me. And the only force in this world that can stop the Tyrant is Salvation, which lies frustratingly out of reach. The blackguard, my direct opposite. A dark mirror of myself. We bear similar blessings, but founded on directly opposing principles. My immortal spirit against his unbreakable body. Age and experience fighting against youth and raw power. Which one of us will prevail? My eyes turn to the stars that twinkle against the night sky. No answers for me there. But more than anything, I know that on a personal level, I afford to cannot lose in this conflict. The blackguard is a repudiation of everything that I am, an inversion of what I, the sword and shield of milady is meant to stand for. I can only pray that milady continues to guide me from far above, no matter how difficult it becomes. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. My musings are broken by the sight of the helicopter touching down at the landing zone. As the helicopter''s door slides open, my heart sinks at the sight of a young girl dressed in a black frilly dress adorned with ribbons and bows disembarking. "Marshal." I greet neutrally, "You did not tell us that you would be coming." Thank the lady that Nicholas isn''t here. That would lead to another crisis I am not ready to deal with now. St Clair glances superciliously at me before replying, "Did I need to actually call beforehand? After all the men and supplies I have provided, I thought that I would be made to feel more welcome." "Of course not." I bite back my annoyance, "You are always welcome Marshal. But why the sudden visit?" St Clair now looks evenly at me, completely serious, "The professor is dead, Representative. The Perfecta has been lost. Yet my troops tell me that you have pushed ahead with the unlocking of Salvation. I want to know why." I knew it. St Clair thinks that I am wasting her troops and resources on a failed project. I need to get her back on board with the plan before she pulls her support. St Clair continues while I wrestle with my thoughts, "If anything Representative, Nicholas needs your backing for the upcoming contest. His victory is the goddess''s victory as well. Yet I hear you are sheltering one of Tensei''s friends in the Tower?" "I am doing more than that, Marshal." I say calmly, "Come with me." .... St Clair stands shell shocked at the sight of Tensei lying unconscious, strapped down to the bed before her. "Explain." St Clair''s voice is suspicious and angry, "Tell me why you have not ended this boy yet." "Theo." I gesture to the guard by my side, a large dark skinned man with a shaved head, "Show the Marshal." Theo nods and begins to draw his saber. The moment the blade leaves the scabbard, Tensei''s body begins to jerk angrily up and down as his core output absolutely surges. There is a sudden spike in brain wave activity from him and we all feel a rush of oppressive pressure slam against us. A low, angry growl is heard coming from Tensei''s mouth. "That''s enough." I urgently remark, "Tensei is already starting to wake up." Theo hurriedly slams the weapon back into its scabbard. The moment this happens, Tensei immediately quietens down and his core output regularizes. Within a few minutes, the brain wave patterns confirm that he is back to dreaming. "Tensei is protected by the Tyrant." I explain to St Clair, "You saw what happens whenever a threat arises near him. It is impossible to kill him in the manner you describe." Strictly speaking that''s not true. I suppose if Kira focused her power, she could manage to kill Tensei if she really wanted to. But she is still committed to Tensei''s success against Nicholas. I don''t think I could talk her into directly hurting Tensei at present. Keeping him comatose is the most I can expect from Kira. St Clair rolls her eyes contemptuously, "Then kill the boy when he is awake. Is that truly beyond the ability of you and your men?" "It is." I confirm, "Tensei is the strongest mage I have ever met. Defeating us all at once is well within his ability." A snort of derision from the vampire, "I''ve fought Tensei before. He is nothing special." "And I saw him fight the Perfecta." I rebut, growing annoyed at St Clair''s attitude, "If he wanted, Tensei would break you utterly, Marshal." St Clair frowns but does not pursue the matter further. She instead makes a different suggestion, "Keep Tensei here until the contest is over. Once he forfeits by failing to show up, it won''t matter anymore." I groan inwardly. How I wish that is possible, but I need Kira''s help to make it happen. And Kira is never going to agree to this proposal. I respond cautiously, "The person helping us with this will not agree to that. We can''t keep Tensei unconscious without her help." "Then force her." St Clair dismissively says. I don''t bother replying and just shake my head firmly. St Clair narrows her eyes menacingly, "You seem to place undue importance over this person helping you over the wishes of the goddess." "Only in the same way you place undue importance over the fate of a pawn." I shoot back, "Is Nicholas truly so important that you needed to take him as your apprentice?" St Clair''s face flushes but she holds her peace at my rebuttal. I am completely thrown off the loop by my own response though. St Clair is right, why am I unwilling to force the matter with Kira? The will of milady is literally everything. I should not be hesitating to bring her plans to fruition. At the end of the day, Kira''s just a girl from an orphanage that I was running. While milady is in addition to being my goddess, not quite my wife, but my lover perhaps? Then why am I wavering like this? For the same reason St Clair is favoring Nicholas beyond what milady has decreed. Both of us are just too old to be true believers. We have formed too many personal connections during our eternal lives that have overshadowed what should have been our one true loyalty. I don''t know of St Clair''s circumstances, but as far as I am concerned, there is only one reason why I''ve continued to play the role of the faithful knight. I don''t know how to do anything else. I don''t know what to do if I stopped playing this role. There is nowhere else for me to go. The memory of the blackguard mocking me as a cuckold rises unbidden in my mind. A rising bitterness begins to overwhelm my senses. My breath begins to grow short and I quickly rein my panic in. Everything is fine. Everything is just fine. I catch St Clair looking at me strangely and smooth out my expression. "What do you intend to do with Tensei?" she asks. I respond quickly, thankful for the distraction from my own thoughts, "We managed to reconstruct some of the Archmage''s research. I''ll let Theo here explain the details." Theo steps forward, grinning enthusiastically, "Certainly Representative. It would be my pleasure." Rolling The Dice The laptop screens the footage of Castiel, Loli Vampire and their muscle huddled around the bed that has the Hero strapped down on to it. The angle of the video is bad, probably because the feed is coming not from a stationery camera, but the spider drone The Voice had left in Ascension Tower earlier. Nevertheless I can make out the Hero frenziedly jerking up and down on the bed, struggling against the restraints. Once the Hero quietens down, a heated discussion breaks out between Loli and Castiel, but the audio is too indistinct for me to clearly make out what they are saying. Another shortcoming of using the spider drone as a scout. What is clear though, is that the two of them are arguing over what to do with the Hero. Words are traded back and forth between the pair until Loli finally seems to reluctantly agree to what Castiel is saying. She is then ushered out of the room by a bald headed guard whom I recognize as one of Naiberg''s heavies when I was detained at SOPO HQ. I take a quick look out of the SUV''s window and see that The Voice has left Red Perch Cape behind. The SUV now cruises down the highway that links the districts together, one vehicle out of hundreds. "What was going on back there?" I ask The Voice, "The Hero was struggling like crazy and all of a sudden he just chilled out." "Passive defense system." The Voice rasps, "Whenever the Hero is incapacitated, any threat to his safety will forcibly awaken him in combat mode." "Handy." I remark, "That means he almost never vulnerable. What a broken skill." "A necessity, given the Hero''s circumstances." The Voice agrees, "He would otherwise have been assassinated in his sleep a hundred times over." "Hero man was growling like an animal just now." I comment, "He didn''t seem to have it all together." The Voice rumbles, "That is because the Hero only loads the integrated battle protocols I provided him with. His actual mind is not engaged with the process. In that state, the Hero will blindly lash out at any target classed as a threat to him or his mission, eliminating it without hesitation." "Its not working though." I observe as the group surrounding the Hero leaves the room, with the drone following stealthily behind, "Castiel and Loli both look very not eliminated." The group makes their way to a large open space with machinery scattered about everywhere in various stages of assembly. Several pyramids of metal drums are piled along the perimeter of the space and technicians are busy installing a huge screen that extends across an entire wall. Banks of computers lie inert awaiting to be hooked up and rows of control terminals have been set up at the far end of the room. "The Incarnate is not stupid, Transmigrator." The voice remarks, "He removes the threat endangering the Hero just before the battle protocol fully loads, causing the process to automatically terminate." Yeah, the Hero wasting the lot of them would have been way too easy. If anything, Castiel has shown that at the very least, he knows what he is doing. He did manage to subvert the Idol through her desire to kill the Hero after all. Baldy leads Loli Vampire to the center of the room where an odd metal stand has been set up, with massive cables surrounding it. The spider drone''s camera pans about, showing the cables originating from a large glass coffin. Baldy jabbers away excitedly, as Loli Vampire listens with suppressed intensity. "Damn. Wish I could hear what they''re saying. " I grumble. "Not a problem." The Voice rumbles, "Let me turn the subtitles on." .... "And here it is. The soul smasher array." Theo proudly announces to the Marshal, "The key to unlocking Salvation." St Clair scoffs derisively, "Representative, I admire your man''s enthusiasm, but he is not the Professor. If a commercially available soul smasher array was all it took to open Salvation up, we would have rid ourselves of the Tyrant ages ago." "Marshal, finish listening before passing judgment." I reprimand, having lost almost all my patience with her, "Theo, please continue." Theo nods and points at the glass containment unit, "Ordinarily, a soul smasher array would use raw spiritual energy to accomplish its task. However, we have a superior tool of destruction at hand."Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. "Which is?" St Clair asks, this time sounding somewhat interested. "Tensei of course." Theo beams, "Or more accurately, the curse laid on him by the Tyrant. The curse allows Tensei to generate waves of pure entropy, heavily disrupting anything spiritual in nature. And Salvation is layered in defenses made from pure spiritual energy. Its what prevents any of us from accessing it." I supplement the explanation from Theo at this point, "That curse is what allowed Tensei to easily defeat the Perfecta. I have tasted its bite as well and can confirm its effects." Theo nods gratefully at me and continues, "From what we have gathered, the trigger for the curse is emotional distress and high levels of adrenaline. We have subjected Tensei to a constant regimen of aggression boosting drugs and electric shocks, guarantying that he will be in the right, heh, state of mind. Give us a few more days and Tensei will be generating all the entropy we need." Theo then raps the containment unit triumphantly, "We hook the boy up to the soul smasher and channel the entropy against Salvation. Salvation''s defenses are strong, but will eventually succumb against a blessing of this strength." "Blessing?" I scold Theo gently, "It is a stain on this world laid by the Tyrant. Don''t make it out to be more that it is." "Of course. Apologies." Theo lowers his head in contrition, "There is only the goddess." St Clair gives the containment unit a look over before saying doubtfully, "Salvation was forged using methods beyond our understanding. The pure spirit guarding it would only allow the goddess passage. And you say that Salvation can be opened with brute force alone?" Theo smiles happily, "Infinity Marshal. Nothing, no matter how mighty, can hold out against infinity. And we have infinity strapped down on a bed right now." "Watch yourself." St Clair growls, "The only being of that level is the goddess. The Tyrant and his works are nothing before her." "Regardless," I quickly cut in before a quarrel breaks out, "The point stands Marshal. Thanks to Tensei, we have the means of accessing Salvation." St Clair turns to look at me critically as she replies, "Your method would damage Salvation as well. It is no better than outright failure." Theo pipes up again, "I believe Marshal. I believe that the goddess is guiding us and that she will provide. We ride the red thread of mother to our final victory!" Theo clasps both hands in prayer fervently. St Clair is completely speechless at this outburst and goes back to examining the soul smasher. From the corner of my eye, I see a trace of a malicious smirk flit across Theo''s face. I am going to need to have a talk with him later. He has been acting strange lately. "Your drugs and electric shocks can bring Tensei to the desired state?" St Clair finally asks. Before I can answer, Theo starts talking again, "Of course. But if that fails, I have been arranging for a contingency with the rest of my colleagues." Contingency? What contingency? Why wasn''t I informed of this? "Someone I know once talked about the relationship between eggs and omelettes." Theo continues, "If the drugs and shock therapy fail, we always have Tensei''s friend." "What are you talking about?" I inquire worriedly, not liking the direction this conversation is taking. St Clair raises an eyebrow at me, realizing that I am losing control of the situation. Theo explains, "What drives Tensei to the required state is his desire to protect his friends. If Tensei is not willing to cooperate, we bring the idol girl out here and break her legs in front of him. We keep breaking bones until he gives us what we want." "No." I snap. "Pardon?" Theo asks innocently, "What is one girl compared to the glory of the goddess?" "I said no!" I bark angrily, "I am in charge here not you! No one hurts Kira!" "Silence." St Clair says flatly, "And Representative? You are using my men, my supplies and my money. That makes me in charge, not you." "Marshal, remember where you stand." I glare back angrily, "You''re not in Legion territory now." A sneer from the vampire is all I get, "Theo, is it? I agree to your plan and my men will provide all the support that you need. Glory to the goddess." The demons surround us menacingly and I lower my flushed face in embarrassment, my fists clenched in impotent fury. Theo bows deferentially to the Marshal as she sweeps out of the room to return to the helicopter. How did things end up this way? .... "As you can see, Transmigrator," The Voice rasps as the spider drone retreats back into the shadows, "time runs short. Fate has decided to throw caution to the wind and force the Codex to activate, regardless of the risk." "Will Fate succeed though?" I frown, "Its literally trying to force open a lock. Like Loli says, the Codex will be damaged." "Unknown." The Voice says, sounding uncertain, "The instability we have caused has made this entire route spiral out of control to the extent that the route may even backfire on Fate itself. What is clear is the next step we must take to save ourselves." "Yeah. Attacking the tower and finishing things with Castiel." I look back out of the SUV''s window and see a familiar clock tower looming in the distance. "Back at where we started huh?" I comment, "Welder''s Bay wasn''t it? Real blast from the past here." "It was not that long ago." The Voice scoffs, "We will launch our attack against the Tower from Welder''s Bay." "There''s a problem though." I point out, "I can''t actually hurt Castiel. We would just get bogged down against each other." The Voice laughs mirthfully, " I am aware of that. That is the reason why I am providing assistance of the more direct sort for this mission." "Upgraded powers?" I ask hopefully. "Even better." The Voice rasps, "I will be fighting by your side." Under An Indifferent Sky The snow falls outside as if nothing had happened in the last few days. As if Hernandez had not killed all of my colleagues and friends. As if I''ve not spent the time running and hiding. As if Tensei had not publicly humiliated me in front of everyone. A patrol of ORPO mecha begins lumbering down the road towards the abandoned apartment I had hidden myself in. I duck back down under the window and close my eyes out of exhaustion. Its too much. Maybe I should just go out there and surrender myself. At least in jail it would be warm for a change. I never thought that one day I would sink to this state. Alone and homeless. I had managed to change out of my SOPO uniform by breaking into a boutique. That escapade also solved my money problems for a while, but I really am at the end of my rope here. I can''t keep this up. ORPO is everywhere and I have almost no one that I can count on. The first thing I did was try to return to my home. The ORPO patrol hanging out in my neighborhood put an end to that plan very quickly. So that left running and hiding in the corners of The City, trying to get back to the Academy. Trying to get back to Tensei. A cautious knocking sound comes from the entrance of the apartment. My hackles rise as the door slowly opens, revealing a dainty figure carrying several bags creeping in. "Inspector Scott?" a demure voice whispers, "Are you there?" "Celeste?" I whisper back and get up from the floor to meet her in the apartment''s living area. Celeste quickly walks towards me and sets the bags she is carrying down. "Inspector, I got you food and warm clothes." Celeste says, "The TV said that its going to start snowing really heavily soon. You need to bundle up." As Celeste opens one of the bags, the scent of freshly roasted chicken causes my mouth to water. My own apprentice and lover have abandoned me, while a mere acquaintance is treating me with such kindness. I don''t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. I hungrily begin chewing on the chicken Celeste presents to me while she smiles at me serenely. "I saw ORPO moving out when I was on my way here." Celeste says, "They seem to be gathering at Ascension Tower. We should be able to leave this place soon." "Celeste, thank you for helping me." I slowly mumble, my feelings threatening to overflow. "Its no problem!" Celeste replies, "You were in such a terrible state when I came upon you in that back alley. I''m sure Tensei and the rest would have done the same thing." A dagger stabs savagely in my heart and I put the food down as a sour sensation spreads throughout me. "Yes, they would, wouldn''t they?" I say softly, trying to gather my thoughts, "Celeste, I''ve been thinking of giving myself up to ORPO." "Inspector, no!" Celeste protests, "You said it yourself, you killed many of Hernandez''s friends. He wouldn''t let you off." "Its just Irene now." I reply tiredly, "I''m Inspector of nothing. And I can''t hide forever. I might as well give myself up before I drag you down with me." "Did something happen, Irene?" the demure voice asks with concern. "Adult stuff." I dismiss the question, "Not something you should concern yourself with. So after this, lets go to an ORPO station, OK?" Celeste frowns and grabs me by the shoulders. Her bright guileless eyes bore deep into my soul. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. "Irene, look out of the window please." she requests. I do as Celeste says and see that the snowfall has become a snowstorm. What is she referring to? "Up in the sky. See? Up in the sky." Celeste gently urges. I squint and see a series of dark, indistinct shapes flying in formation high in the sky. I can''t clearly make them out though, the snowstorm is too heavy. "Birds?" I ask Celeste, lost at what she is trying to get at. "Mm. That''s right." Celeste affirms, "No matter how hard things get, those birds keep flying because they have somewhere they need to be. Don''t you have somewhere to be as well, Irene?" "That''s different." I protest. "How?" Celeste tilts her head innocently, "The snowstorm could kill those birds. Yet they fly against it, no matter what. They are strong because they have each other. You''re not alone Irene. You have Tensei. I know its not worth much, but you have me as well. So let''s do our best together, alright?" Celeste''s small, warm hands close around mine. She''s so young, so powerless. Not a drop of magic runs through her veins. How can she still be so strong? I lift my head and find her calm face awaiting my response, not judging, not hurrying. Just there, waiting for me as long as it takes. The tears flow, and I pour my heart out. .... "Smart ass." Hernandez''s hoarse voice is piped through the earpiece, "We are gathering at Ascension Tower. The P5 was thrown in a tizzy when they heard their golden boy was kidnapped by Mikey Mike. We have that angelic asshole over the barrel now." I smirk, looking downwards from my vantage point. The formation of construction drones fly high in the sky against the raging snowstorm carrying the containers loaded at Welder''s Bay. Like giant metal dragonflies, the drones grasp the containers between their iron legs, their wings beating furiously to keep aloft. I can see the lights of The City winking down in the distance, just past the curtain of snow. At the base of the Tower I see a crowd of men marching forward, backed by APCs and battle tanks. I stand on the container carried by the lead drone, my arms akimbo, feeling very heroic at the moment. After ORPO managed to absorb RAU and all their equipment, Hernandez managed to recover from the losses inflicted by SOPO during their last stand. Some skulls needed to be cracked to remind RAU where they stood now, but on the whole everyone got on with the program. That gave Hernandez the confidence to launch this raid directly against Ascension Tower itself. "I see you guys." I confirm to Hernandez, "I''ll be dropping right on to the drone landing area. Let''s do this." "Yeah." Hernandez laughs, "You do your thing. We''ll be raising some hell from where we are. Good luck. Remember, credit goes to ORPO for rescuing the von Amsterg kid." "As you say, Commander." I respond before signing off. I take a deep breath of the cold air to steady myself. "Hey, do I look cool right now?" I ask The Voice. "Yes." The Voice rasps as it pilots the drones towards Ascension Tower. "Wow, really?" I fist pump at the confirmation. "No." The Voice immediately rebuts, "I am just trying to bolster your confidence." "Oh, screw you." I grumble, "Did you need to make the snowstorm so heavy? I get a mouthful of snow whenever I try to talk." "It is to conceal our approach to the Tower." The Voice explains, "You are clear on what you need to do?" "Yeah." I say, "Its just a tower defense scenario right? With us as the attackers." The Voice rumbles, "Remember, the containers are the spawn points. I will engage the defenders while you prevent Castiel from destroying the containers. Attrition will carry the day for us." "You sure you can handle this?" I ask slightly worried. "Nothing can stand in the way of infinity Transmigrator." The Voice declares confidently, "Castiel will learn the price of standing against this world''s True Emperor." "What? True Emperor?" I blank out for a moment, "You feeling fine there? No delusions or anything?" "Oh, most certainly." The Voice reassures, "Its just that I am feeling rather nostalgic at the moment. I imagine Castiel is feeling the same way as well." "Uh. I''m not sure I understand." I respond with my arm against my mouth, to keep the snow flurries out. "Do not worry about it." The Voice rasps, "Let us just say that destiny has a sense of irony, to say the least." The landing pad of the Tower comes into view and floodlights zero in on the drone formation. A siren is heard blaring from within the structure. I see men and women in suits rushing out to the landing pad, bearing assault rifles. The drones enter into a steep dive for their attack run. "The Judecca Militia is back." I remark blandly as gunfire explodes all around us. A rifle burst catches me on the chest and I distractedly brush away the bullets that pancaked against the trench coat. "Twenty seconds." The Voice says, "Brace for impact." I bring up the grenade launcher and draw a bead on the defenders. Time to get this party started. Time to save ourselves. Sole Proprietor The grenade I launched explodes in the midst of the militiamen, forcing them to scatter. The incoming gunfire slackens for the barest moment and The Voice takes the opportunity to begin pulling the drones up from their originally steep dive. My stomach falls from under me as the construction drone releases the container that I am standing on, pitching it towards the landing area. Dropping on all fours, I hang on tight to the container as it is sent careening through the air, hoping that I won''t be thrown off on impact. "There has to be a better way off doing this." I mutter while pressing myself down against the container. I hear the sound of the drone formation revving their engines and fleeing the scene. If all goes well, they should return to pick me up once the mission is complete. The Voice rasps, "At such short notice? No." The containers thrown from the drones form an avalanche of metal that hits the landing area hard, squashing any militiamen that do not manage to dodge in time. As the container I am riding on begins to skid forward from the momentum of the drop, I get back up to my feet and fire another grenade at the retreating defenders. The frag shell detonates and flays a small cluster of the militiamen, leaving them torn and bloody. The defenders nevertheless begin to get over their surprise at this unorthodox means of attack, with the riflemen separating into two groups which spread towards the sides of the landing area. The center of the enemy formation is a solid block of swordsmen and women who have their weapons drawn and advance steadily towards the containers before them. "Judecca Militia." I comment offhandedly, "Seems strange to be going back to fighting mooks after all this while." The containers burst open and large mechanical forms begin charging out towards the line of guards. Resembling massive misshapen hunting dogs, the combat drones bear rectangular oversize heads without any cameras or other sensory organs installed, as The Voice is directly controlling the entire group remotely. The mecha dogs'' bodies are shrouded in unpainted armor for protection. The naked metal, combined with the drone''s clearly unfinished construction, gives the attackers a dull, sloppy look. Expendable troops, meant to be deployed in their hundreds against the defenders. The Judecca Militia does not waver at the sight of the incoming wave of death and the swordsmen stand firm, raising their blades in unison as they begin to focus their spirituality. Shit. I forgot that these guys had an area of effect attack. Before I can reload my grenade launcher and bring it back into play, the militiamen bring their blades down as one and a blast of spiritual energy is fired at the attack drones charging the line. Explosions rip through the horde of drones accompanied with the tortured scream of tearing metal. But The Voice refuses to break off its attack and the drones keep charging forward regardless of the carnage. A stream of bullets pummel me from the right, leaving me staggering and gasping for breath. As I am struggling to regain my balance, I am hit from the opposite side by another hail of gunfire, sending me sprawling on to the container. Crossfire, my mind tells me as my lips kiss the cold metal. I have been caught in a crossfire. I hear the rattle of bullets being sprayed across the containers while struggling back to my feet. "Combat drone strength at sixty percent. Spawn points under attack." The Voice rumbles, "Get back up and support my advance, Transmigrator." On it boss. These guys might be mooks, but they are still plenty dangerous. I unhook a flash bang from the bandoleer and chuck it at the swirling melee breaking out in front of me. The explosion of sound and light sends the militiamen reeling backwards, but is no impediment to the drones, which press their attack under the direction of The Voice. The mechanical dogs rear up and their boxy heads split horizontally like a pair of scissors opening, revealing a massive jaw that has a single long blade mounted on each side. With a snap, the jaws snap shut, cleaving men and women messily into half at the waist. The militiamen raise their blades in an attempt to block, but the dogs duck under the swords in response, their scissor mouths slashing away at the legs of their targets. Several of the defenders fall, blood spurting from the stumps of their limbs, but more and more militiamen begin trooping out from the depths of the Tower. Sword blows rain down on the attack dogs and pack''s momentum is brought to a grinding halt. The riflemen, realizing that their comrades are in peril, turn away their attention from me and begin hosing down the drones with lead. I reload the grenade launcher and begin firing into the tightly packed crowd of suits. Cries of pain merge with the sound of explosions, but the Judecca Militia refuses to break. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. After all, regardless of the losses they have suffered, they are managing to push the dogs back. Shards of broken armor and mechanical components litter the landing area. One by one, the attack drones go down in bursts of guttering flames. "Combat drone strength at twenty percent." The Voice rumbles with barely concealed amusement, "Releasing wave two." The doors of the containers burst open again and a fresh horde of mecha dogs is thrown against the defenders. Taking the cue, I send another flash bag arcing right into the defenders'' line, stunning them and preventing the militia from bracing against the incoming charge. The pack hits the defenders like a battering ram, pushing the entire line back, separating the swordsmen from the rifles that had been securing their flanks. With all three groups now isolated from each other, the rearmost members of the pack break off from the charge and tear into the riflemen instead. With the lines having merged, I set the grenade launcher down and draw the revolver, firing away at the militiamen that had been knocked loose from their formation. Hardly anyone notices a few more men being dropped thanks to being shot. Not with the scissor dogs trying to tear their faces off. But someone does take take offence at what I am doing. A fierce war cry is shouted over the chaos as a militiaman surges his spirit and takes a flying leap towards me, soaring over his comrades with his blade held high. The man''s face is a rictus of hate mixed with determination, his form growing rapidly larger as it speeds towards me like a comet. "Face justi -"the militiaman''s shriek is cut off from the impact of my fist landing squarely on his gut. I smile in amusement as the man is rocketed back over his comrades and crashes into one of the spotlights, releasing a shower of sparks. "I believe that it is time for wave three." The Voice chuckles as the containers open their doors once more. Another flash bang is sent flying into the mass of guards and this time, battered and bloody from the previous encounters, they fail to resist the incoming charge. The militiamen are thrown backwards into the depths of the Tower, scrambling off in full retreat down the corridor. The attack dogs bound after the routing guards, snapping away at their heels. "The power of infinity Transmigrator." The Voice crows triumphantly. "Yeah." I reply while jumping off the container that I had been perched on, "But attack dogs, really? I was expecting something, well, more impressive, to be frank." "Wolves." The Voice sniffs, "Do not mistake that noble creature for its domesticated counterpart." "Alright, fine, attack wolves." I quip, "Doesn''t change my point though. Also, those looked nothing like any wolf I have ever seen." "They drove our enemies back. That makes them impressive by definition." The Voice grumbles, "And I cannot be blamed for your ignorance in not knowing what an actual wolf looks like." Wow. The Voice is getting really sniffy about this. And what''s this about ''actual wolves''? Just as I am ruminating over what The Voice has been babbling about, the decapitated head of one of the drones is sent flying at me from the battle still raging ahead of us. I easily catch the projectile with one hand and see a familiar figure making his way out of the corridor bearing a saber. The man''s clothes are torn from slashing his way past the drones, but not a single injury marks his body. The red thread of Fate wraps itself securely around his body, crackling in readiness for what is to come. "No tongue." Castiel remarks, "The Tyrant has a sense of humor at least." "Don''t know what you''re talking about. Don''t care." I respond, "Cuck man''s too cucked to go save his friends?" A tired smile comes from the Incarnate, "The real fight is here. Stop trying to fool me blackguard, you''re doing a poor job of it." I shrug and draw the shin gunto, "Let''s get the main event started then." "A question first." Castiel says as he raises the saber, "What did the Tyrant promise for you to help in the enslavement of this world?" "I am either going to be a king or a very rich man once all this is over." I grunt, "Not that it matters to you in either case." Castiel''s eyes boggle at my answer, "You would corrupt a pair of innocent teenagers and turn one of them into a murderess for something so petty?" "They''re just doing what''s natural to them." I laugh, "You can''t blame me for any of that." "Scum. You''re the lowest sort of scum." Castiel snarls, genuinely angry. I point my sword at Castiel and shoot back, "What did your goddess promise you then? What did you get in return for playing the white knight?" Before he can say anything, I tap my chin in a faux thinking gesture and answer my own question, "Let me guess, she allowed you to bang her didn''t she? Your eternal loyalty for ten minutes of heaving and pumping?" Castiel''s face goes all red when he hears the words coming from my mouth. Bingo. If Fate was originally an otome heroine, then that was all she really needed to do to get her husbandos on board with the program. A sullen silence rises from Castiel, as he looks down despondently. "You know what the real difference is between us cuck man?" I ask rhetorically. Castiel doesn''t answer, but glares at me, hate oozing out from every single pore on his face. "Unlike you, I don''t need to share my reward with anyone." I declare with a laugh. And Castiel throws himself at me with a bestial cry, tears running down his face. The Burden of Love "I don''t need to share my reward with anyone." the blackguard taunts mercilessly, rubbing salt into a raw wound. I scream in anger as both of us rush at each other, our weapons clashing furiously. My mind descends into a red haze as the painful memories return unbidden, the nights where milady decided not to pick me for companionship. She told us that this was a sacrifice that all of us had to make, so that a new order could be created, one that would unite the three peoples against the reign of the Tyrant. I hated this proposition and for sometime afterwards, I hated Anri as well for daring to suggest it. I was a knight, not some common laborer or an uncultured brute. I was the one who defended Anri when the Tyrant''s servants first caught up with her. Not the serving boy, who lay beaten in the dirt. Not Enma, who had at first decided to have Anri sacrificed in order to curry favor with the Tyrant. It was me who gave Anri her chance to accomplish something truly great. Without Sir Castiel, there would be no goddess. But sacrifices had to be made, both for the sake of the world and for the sake of love. After we had received our gifts from Salvation, there was no doubt in my mind that Anri would become the mother of the new world, a world where everyone would be able to live free. But to that, to lead us to our golden future, we had to accept that Anri''s love belonged not to us as individuals, but to us as a whole, representing the peoples of the three worlds. I had hoped that my fellows would join me in voicing their objections to Anri''s plan as it was clear that we all had feelings for her, but once again, my hopes were betrayed. Enma, that muscle headed barbarian, had in his time as a prince acquired a large harem for his own enjoyment. He had no objections to a powerful woman doing the same, as long as it did not infringe on his own prerogatives. The serving boy had lived his entire life in the shadow of Anri, awed by her status and beauty. Naturally, he leaped at the chance of being Anri''s consort without hesitation. That left me, the lone member of our trio, as the odd man out. So I swallowed my discontent, and accepted Anri''s suggestion. It was the only way I could get Anri to return my feelings for her. It was the only way we could save the world from the Tyrant. And deep in my heart, I feared that if I continued to refuse, Anri would begin to lose her interest in me. She did not love Sir Castiel after all. What she loved were the people from the land of eternal light. I was simply the vessel which she poured that love into. And a vessel is ultimately replaceable. The pain of knowing that the person you love will never love you the same way, I know it all too well. And that''s the reason why I have favored Kira so much, especially after Anri revealed the Tyrant''s plans to me. Kira loves Tensei. Tensei does not love Kira. He may desire her, but its not the same thing. Kira''s heart will eventually be betrayed, and she will sink to the level of a pawn, doing the bidding of the Tyrant and sending this world spiraling into chaos. Just like the three of us have become pawns to Anri, enforcing her will and serving her for eternity. At least the others have the blessing of ignorance to shield them from the fact that we have literally become nothing more than glorified slaves. No matter what happens, I am cursed to remember the truth. I am quick to recall the happy times our group spent together, travelling and adventuring as friends and yes, eventually as lovers. But that distraction is not enough. I can never forget the pain that Anri put me through. Once again, I am the odd man out. I cannot save our trio from the destiny we have been drawn towards. Anri''s hold on us is unbreakable, the red thread enforcing complete obedience. But I have enough leeway and influence to make a difference for Kira. I can save her from Tensei, from the Tyrant and most importantly, from herself. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! I had first tried to keep Kira away from Tensei, first by guiding her behind the scenes to study under Trietel and then by getting her involved with the URI, but the Tyrant''s influence foiled that plan. I then arranged for Kira''s management to promote her career more aggressively, hoping that doing so would limit her interactions with Tensei. However, Kira had by now become completely infatuated with Tensei and obsessed with getting closer to him in the hopes of fulfilling her deranged vow. This obsession would eventually drive Kira to seek me out, hoping that I would aid Tensei in his battle against his so-called brother. Despite my best efforts, Kira had drifted into Tensei''s, and by extension, the Tyrant''s orbit. If I could not avert the destiny that she was to face, then at the very least I could ensure that Kira would meet that future on the best possible terms. With that in mind, I had originally planned to manipulate Kira into delivering Tensei to me and once that was done, an accident would be arranged to have Tensei killed. Kira might hate me for betraying her trust, but for her sake, I was willing to get my hands dirty. I would not allow her to fall into the same position I am in. Then the unthinkable happened. The Perfecta was lost and Tensei awakened his full strength as a result of that battle. Naiberg''s research also indicated that the only means of opening Salvation lay with Tensei. The Tyrant''s influence had once again reared its ugly head, wrecking my plans entirely. We had no choice but to keep the boy alive. And now the blackguard is here, seeking to destroy Salvation as well as reclaim Tensei and Kira for the Tyrant. A lifetime of servitude is all that awaits her if I am defeated here. A sword and shield, that is all I am and that is all I know what to be. But for the first time in countless generations, I have the chance of protecting someone other than Anri. I can prevent history from repeating. It is too late to save myself, but there is still enough time for me to save another. A sharp pain blooms over my forehead as the blackguard''s sword slips past my distracted guard and delivers a vicious slash. The blessing deflects the blow easily and I take a few steps back to gather myself. The blackguard smirks cockily at me, confident in his ability to hold me at bay. I wipe the hot tears from my eyes and see the world in unparalleled clarity. For the first time in the span of countless lives, I truly, unequivocally know what needs to be done. The containers behind the blackguard open once more and a fresh pack of machines rush onward. I tilt my head upwards and allow the snow to rain down against it. As the Tyrant''s minions charge harmlessly past me towards the laboratory, I savor the icy chill of the snow. The sky doesn''t care who lives or dies under it. Just like the Tyrant and Anri are indifferent to the fates of the nameless people of the three worlds. There is no point feeling upset about this fact. The sky is the sky, just as the gods are the gods. It is up to us, the people who live down here to make the best out of things. To make the world a better place, either for ourselves, or for the sake of others. That is how the blackguard manages to live with himself. He had never betrayed his own heart in favor of an illusion. Whereas I fooled myself into thinking I meant more to Anri than I ever truly did. The worst part of it all was accepting her proposal, fooling myself that things would change, when they clearly never would. I slowly lower my head once more and regard the blackguard with my fresh eyes. "You have come to a decision." the blackguard observes without any trace of derision in his voice. I nod. Anri will never forgive me for what I am about to do. I am past caring though. I have paid my dues to her a thousand times over. What a relief it is, to finally acknowledge that Anri never loved me. To be able to turn my skills towards the service of a more noble cause. "I am a cuckold." I say slowly, savoring every word, the sense of elation as the weight on my heart lifts. The blackguard looks at me strangely as he says, "Uh, OK? Your point, cuck man?" I don''t bother replying further and turn my back towards the blackguard who is reduced to making bewildered noises. I run back towards the laboratory as fast as I am able. There''s still time to save Kira. To take her away from all of this. To change her fate. The True Challenger "What just happened?" I ask The Voice slack jawed as Castiel runs back towards the lab, abandoning his attempts at destroying the spawn points. Did he just experience some form of mind break after I called him a cuck one too many times? While it would certainly be hilarious if that hypothesis is true, somehow I doubt that this scenario is over by a long shot. Castiel is very obviously the chapter boss put in place by Fate as well as an Incarnate to boot. Its unlikely some taunting by itself would put an end to the threat he poses. "Transmigrator," The Voice rasps worriedly, "The instability surrounding this scenario has reached a climax. This has resulted in a naturally forming divergence point coming into existence." "Huh. I''m guessing that''s not good." I grunt as take a few brisk swings with the shin gunto to loosen up the knots in my muscles, "How will this divergence point affect the Hero?" "It will not affect the Hero at all." The Voice clarifies, "From what I can tell, this divergence point binds both Fate and myself." What. "How is that even possible?" I ask, "Why would Fate allow itself to be caught up in one of its own divergence points?" "As I said before, this divergence point was birthed from the instability that we injected into the death route." The Voice says in a rush, "Fate has nothing to do with it. Unfortunately, the divergence point has also thrown the Crossroads into absolute chaos, preventing me from seeing the trigger conditions and eventual outcomes." I click my tongue in annoyance as I begin to sprint down the corridor after Castiel. Nothing is ever easy isn''t it? If experience has taught me anything, its that divergence points will always kick in as a default condition if I do not intervene in shaping events. While this particular divergence point might not be something that would penalize The Voice and I, there''s no guarantee that we would get away scott free if I sat back and did nothing. The least I could do would be to investigate what''s going on. And I have a sneaking suspicion that the divergence point is connected to Castiel''s sudden change of heart. My pounding feet quickly take me to a bottleneck in the corridor where the scissor wolf drones are attempting to storm the remaining defenders, who fight back from behind a hastily erected barricade made out of bags of concrete, piles of tiles and various other assorted construction supplies. Piles of damaged and destroyed drones lie in heaps at the foot of the barricade, but The Voice cares nothing for the losses being inflicted by the Judecca Militia. Any conventional attack force would have been sent fleeing for their lives at this point thanks to the determined resistance of the militiamen, but the drones know no fear, relentlessly charging the barricade without rest. The losses the scissor wolves absorb from their assaults are quickly replaced by another freshly spawned set of drones. Against this emotionless, numberless horde, the militia''s defeat is all but certain. Unless the new divergence point pulls the rug out from under The Voice''s figurative feet. Taking advantage of the distraction caused by the scissor wolves, I pump power into my legs and send myself flying over the heads of both the militiamen and the drones with a single flying leap. Other than a few surprised gasps, the militia are too busy trying to avoid having their limbs messily amputated to do anything to stop me. As my feet hit the ground on the opposite side of the barricade, the thought of assisting the scissor wolves clear out the militia crosses my mind, but I dismiss the idea. The outcome here is not in doubt, but what''s going on with the divergence point very much is. There''s no time to waste. .... The doors to the lab fly open as I use the guard posted there as an improvised wrecking ball. I rush into the lab, with the shin gunto drawn, ready for action. Before me, mounted on a wall is a huge flat screen monitor displaying lines of technical gobbledygook while to the side of the lab are a small group of technicians huddled behind their control stations. At the far side of the lab is an elevator, probably used to access the other floors of the Tower. But its in the center of the room where the action is taking place. A man sized holding cell made of glass has been mounted on the ground with several cables linking it a large device that resembles a windowed cabinet. The windows of the device are tinted, but I can nevertheless see that a small sphere has been placed within it. Multiple nozzles circle the sphere, blasting it in sequence with jets of black fire. The source of the black fire is, of course, no surprise at this point. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The Hero has been sealed within the holding cell, his eyes blankly staring forward while his body generates the black miasma. The cell then extracts the miasma and channels it through the cables into the device where it is projected as the black flame. The Hero is obviously conscious, his staring eyes and labored breathing are evidence of that, but he seems to have no interest in breaking out of the containment unit. The guards must have drugged him up good before wheeling him out of bed. And before the holding cell is Castiel himself, angrily confronting Baldy who smirks back obnoxiously at the Incarnate. The Idol is on her knees by Baldy''s side, sobbing in distress as both men glare daggers at each other. "Mike, help." the Idol moans weakly through the tears. "I told you that Kira is not to be harmed." Castiel hisses, "What do you think you''re doing, Theo?" Baldy pulls the Idol roughly back up on her feet and sneers at Castiel, "Just doing the goddess''s will "Mike". You seem really familiar with this girl. Care to share why?" Castiel''s voice is flat, "Let her go. Now." Baldy tuts and wags a finger at Castiel, gently reprimanding, "Now, now. Tensei is not producing enough entropy to crack Salvation''s defenses. We discussed this already, Mike. Remember? Eggs and omelettes?" Before either Castiel or myself can react, Baldy abruptly slams his fist into the Idol''s gut, causing blood to spew from her mouth as she keels over unconscious. Right on cue, the Hero''s body begins to struggle frantically in the holding cell as the steady flow of miasma generated by him becomes an overwhelming torrent. The jets of flame burning away at the codex gain strength as the machine feeds hungrily on the miasma. Baldy takes a look at the screen hanging from the wall and claps his hands in satisfaction. "There we go!" Baldy says happily, "Now we''re making some progress." Castiel does not bother with words and sends his saber slashing towards Baldy''s neck. Baldy''s reflexes are up to the challenge though, and he easily ducks under the attack before retaliating with an uppercut straight to the Incarnate''s chin. Castiel''s red thread tanks the attack without problem and his saber draws back before lashing out once again. This time the blade strikes its target and Baldy''s head is sent rolling across the lab''s floor in a spray of blood. The techs cry out in surprise but remain at their stations. After all, with the lab under attack, there is nowhere for them to go. As Baldy''s body topples to the ground headless, the red thread wrapped around Castiel''s body tightens around his neck like a noose, causing him to stagger, gasping for breath. His body flickers alarmingly for a few moments but it stabilizes as Castiel flares his core in defiance. The Incarnate then wipes off the sheen of sweat that had built up on his face and gingerly pokes at his neck where the red thread refuses to release its hold. "Not bad." I comment, "Cuck man has a pair after all. Can''t be easy going against your precious goddess." Castiel grimaces and turns to regard me, "I have walked this world for generations. It might not be much, but I have acquired some power that can be called my own." Castiel''s speech slurs as he talks, as he very obviously struggles to form the words. His eyes occasionally lose focus, as if his mind is constantly drifting away from the present. And all the while, the red thread continues to tighten against his throat. Fate''s very literally yanking the Incarnate''s chain. "You won''t last long." I observe, "I can tell that you''re tiring already." Castiel smiles sadly, but determination flashes in his eyes, "Long enough to get Kira out of here and away from everything. I will not let you stop me, blackguard." Our attention is suddenly drawn to the corpse of Baldy which begins to dissolve into a pool of liquid steaming fat. The flesh of the decapitated head then begins to peel away, revealing not bone, but a hand standing upright on its middle and index fingers. A face begins to form on the back of the hand as it trots lightly towards us. A bearded face bearing a disgusting leer that I never hoped to see ever again. "Naiberg." Castiel whispers, "You''re supposed to be dead." Naiberg ignores Castiel and addresses me instead, "Mike''s not going to stop you Mr Gallant. There has been a change in the evening''s program." My heart leaps into my throat as I realize what is going on. This is it. The divergence point. "Don''t ignore me!" Castiel shouts at the hand. Wow. Someone actually talking to the hand. First time for everything I suppose. "Mike, please." Naiberg says, but this time his voice comes from the opposite end of the room. Both Castiel and I whirl about just in time to see Naiberg emerging from the elevator pushing a wheelchair. And in the wheelchair sits a figure that I haven''t seen in a long time. Its the fossil, the incredibly old, comatose man the spider drone spied on when we first infiltrated the black site. "No." Castiel mutters, face as white as a sheet. "Mike." Naiberg speaks, again from his actual body, "You look tired." Naiberg swings his leg in a vicious arc, kicking one of the fossil''s shins which shatters with a brittle crack. Castiel shrieks in pain, his corresponding lower leg bending inward, sending him sprawling to the floor. "Sit down." Naiberg concludes with his signature nasty smile. Forbidden Aspiration I don''t have time to play around on the Naiberg and Friends show. The codex is right in front of me and all it takes to save myself is a single stroke from the shin gunto. There''s also the problem of the Hero completely flipping out in the glass holding cell. The Hero''s fists pound against the glass and I can see small cracks beginning to from as a result of the onslaught. Once he manages to break out, its almost a guarantee that his programming will compel the Hero to go on a rampage in order to save the Idol. That''s another complication I am not going to stick around to deal with. As Castiel groans impotently on the floor from his broken leg, I lunge towards the cabinet with the sword raised high. Naiberg''s dismembered hand leaps into the air at the same time, moving its fingers about in arcane patterns. A surge of magic erupts from the hand and erects a barrier surrounding both the holding cell and the cabinet looking contraption. My sword glides harmlessly across the barrier as the spirit shard animating the hand completely disintegrates. The wandering limb falls to the ground with a wet thump as it begins to melt away into a foul smelling puddle. "Why the hurry Mr Gallant?" Naiberg asks solicitously, pushing the wheelchair bearing the fossil towards the center of the room, "I just got to the party after all. Keep me company for a bit, alright?" Castiel glares venomously at Naiberg and makes a grab for his saber that lies discarded nearby. Naiberg just mirthlessly chuckles at this sight and prods the fossil''s broken leg with the tip of his foot, sending Castiel into another paroxysm of pain. I kick the barrier one more time, more out of frustration than anything else, before turning to face Naiberg. I level the shin gunto at him threateningly but he looks just as leisurely as ever, as if none of us are a real threat to him. "If you think your gimmick of having plenty of lives to spend is going to work here, think again." I warn Naiberg, "There''s an army just outside the gates of this place, and its more than enough to kill you as many times as it takes." Instead of responding, Naiberg places an index finger on on his lips with a shushing noise and points towards the screen mounted on the wall. Both Castiel and I turn our attention to the screen with the technobabble scrolling across it. I still have no idea what in the world the data means, but Castiel immediately panics at what he is seeing. "The soul smasher is putting too much pressure on Salvation." Castiel hisses, "Even if you manage to open it this way Naiberg, the knowledge within it will be lost." Naiberg snorts dismissively, "Who cares about that? The knowledge within Salvation is just bait to delude small minds into thinking they have struck gold. The real treasure is buried underneath." "No." Castiel moans in despair, "You overstep Naiberg! Know your place!" "What''s going on?" I whisper to The Voice. "Not a clue," comes the signature rasp, "but stay alert Transmigrator. You are rapidly heading towards the divergence point." As I am having my private conversation with The Voice, the crimson noose on Castiel''s neck eases up and the Incarnate exhales with a sigh of relief. No longer needing to resist Fate''s influence, Castiel flares his core and forces himself back up to his feet, broken leg and all, while scooping up the saber. Naiberg however looks distinctively unimpressed by what''s happening. The fingernail of his index finger lengthens and sharpens into a vicious looking claw. And with a single smooth motion, Naiberg slits the fossil''s throat just as Castiel begins to rush forward to attack. Castiel hits the ground hard, gurgling incoherently as his hands paw at his neck. The red mesh crackles furiously, as if Fate is trying to jolt the Incarnate back into action, but all it manages to do is get Castiel to assume a fetal position as the agony of the fossil''s wounds begins to overwhelm him.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Rooted to the three worlds, the nine gates of ascension open." Naiberg pronounces grandly, "That is Salvation''s true function isn''t it Mike? That was the reason why the goddess made the journey north, wasn''t it?" "I don''t know what you''re talking about." Castiel croaks. "Liar!" Naiberg roars and slams his fist against the fossil''s head. Castiel curls into a ball and cowers helplessly before the Archmage. "I''ve examined the legends." Naiberg snaps, "I''ve even been north myself. It was no coincidence that the goddess needed three companions from each of the three worlds. Three companions devoted in body, mind and soul to the goddess. Three by three is the number that will open the nine gates of ascension!" The Voice growls menacingly in my ear, "I will never allow this. Never ever." So that''s what the divergence point is all about. Naiberg wants to be reborn as a new god. And the instability both The Voice and I had stirred up has given him the opportunity to make the attempt. I raise a hand to get Naiberg''s attention and the man looks at me with a surprisingly pleasant expression. "Yes, questions Mr Gallant?" Naiberg asks in a friendly tone. "Your goddess had her three cucks." I point out, "And from what I see, you don''t have the equivalent. The gates of ascension are going to remain closed no matter what you do." Naiberg hums contentedly and replies, "Well, there''s Mike here, the stand in from the land of light. The Judecca Militia have their roots originating from the eternal abyss of darkness. And there''s you, hailing from the world of man, physically at any rate. I daresay all the ingredients are available for the work to commence." "I''m not going to be your cuck." I answer flatly. "Neither will I open the gates for you traitor." Castiel wheezes from the floor, "Milady will punish you for this betrayal. Mark my words." "Oh, that''s where you''re both wrong." Naiberg tuts, "The legends say that the goddess possessed the bodies, hearts and souls of her companions. It never said anything about it being voluntary." "Of course we all agree -" Castiel protests, but before he can complete what he''s saying, Naiberg springs into action. The barrier protecting the soul smasher drops and Naiberg gives the wheelchair a hard push sending the fossil rolling towards the device. The wheelchair slams into the cabinet with an earsplitting crash and the glass panels shatter, allowing jets of black flame to escape from the machine''s interior. The fossil, exposed the flames, erupts like a pile of dry tinder and begins to burn merrily in the center of the room. Castiel shrieks like a wounded animal as his spiritual body is shrouded in flames as well. He frantically rolls around on the floor, furiously beating his fists against the fire, trying to put it out. The red thread twists about desperately, attempting vainly to resist the damage being done. Its all no use though, as the flames devour Castiel''s spiritual body, causing it to explode into golden shards which eventually drift away on the wind. "Living sacrifice." Naiberg sighs contentedly, "The best sacrifice." As the fossil crumbles into a heap of ash, I hear a clicking noise coming from the cabinet. The codex begins to rotate at its resting place, its round, smooth surface beginning to open up like the bud of a flower. From the depths of the codex, I sense a surge of energy, far more potent than anything I have experienced before. Naiberg leers in anticipation, his beady eyes locked on to the codex, drool dripping from his chin. In the background, the Hero continues to pound away at the walls of his cell, completely forgotten by everyone. "An artificial synchronicity event." The Voice breathes, "So that is how Fate managed to ascend to divinity." I understand now. My prize for derailing the death route is not just my safety in this world, but also the means to return home. And now Naiberg wants to steal it from me. My grip tightens over the shin gunto. Only one of us is walking out of this place alive. The clicking from the codex stops and Naiberg turns to look expectantly at me. "Three of the nine gates have opened." he says, "Its time for you to do your part Mr Gallant." "I''ve got plans of my own for the thingamajig." I swing the sword in challenge, "And those plans most certainly don''t involve a freaky nudist." "Now, that won''t do at all." Naiberg sneers as his clothes tear apart from the force of multiple arms sprouting from his torso, "How inconsiderate of you." I hear the sounds of fighting drawing closer, the scissor wolves must have almost broken through the barricade. Both Naiberg and I regard each other in silence, muscles straining in anticipation for what is to come. The black flames begin to spread across the lab, and the technicians cry out in panic. "Transmigrator -" The Voice rasps, but I cut it off. "I know." I whisper, "I got this." And for the last time, Naiberg and I rush at each other, the destiny of two gods resting in our hands. Snatch I bring the shin gunto down with a heavy two handed chop as Naiberg charges towards me, his multiple grasping arms outstretched. The nudist responds by raising a pair of his arms and with a clapping motion, traps the sword''s blade between his palms. As I struggle to free the blade from Naiberg''s hands, the nudist slams my torso with a barrage of punches, causing my entire body to buck upwards thanks to the force of the blows. Gritting my teeth, I twist and pull at the sword hard, freeing it from Naiberg''s grasp and lopping off several of his fingers in the bargain. "First blood is mine." I taunt, as I wave the shin gunto''s blade before Naiberg''s face, its surface stained crimson. Naiberg snorts as his fingers regrow from the bleeding stumps. Wriggling his fresh set of fingers derisively at me, Naiberg''s arms suddenly extend like rubber bands and lash out with a whipping motion. I manage to bring the sword up just in time to block the incoming attack, but the force of the blows forces me backwards. "Flesh is a weapon like any other." Naiberg lectures smugly, "Do you mourn when your sword is scratched or chipped from being used, Mr Gallant? Its the same for my body." Naiberg''s entire body begins spinning about, the centrifugal force creating a storm of fleshy, organic tentacles that lash my body relentlessly. The nudist is not doing a whole lot of damage, but the miniature typhoon of limbs prevents me from approaching him. Every time I try to rush at Naiberg, I am knocked aside by the momentum of the flailing limbs. With no other choices available, I slash wildly at the flying arms, hoping to gradually clear a path towards Naiberg''s body itself. I just hope that I can keep up with his regeneration so that some kind of progress can be made. Blood sprays all over the floor as my sword slices and dices through Naiberg''s arms, the limbs hitting the ground with wet thumps. Despite the occasional smack across the face, I doggedly press forward, slowly but surely closing the distance with the Nudist. Naiberg on his part is content to keep spinning about, heedless of the fact that his arms are not enough to keep me at bay. A slick, slimy sensation slides across my foot, but I am too preoccupied to pay any further attention to it. The feeling suddenly multiplies and something rubbery wraps itself around both my legs just as I am about to take another step forward, forcing me to stumble. Caught off guard, I desperately fight to keep my balance, but Naiberg whips out another fusillade of blows towards me, the impact sending me flying off my feet and on to my back. As I struggle to get back up, I realize that my legs have been bound fast by the squirming arms that I had severed from Naiberg''s body. The severed arms have coiled themselves around my legs, with their hands gripping me tightly. My stomach churns at the sight of the nudist''s face forming on the each of the arms, leering silently at me. Forcing the bile back down my throat, I look back up expecting to be smacked about some more by Naiberg. Naiberg, contrary to my expectations, stops spinning about despite the fact that I am completely vulnerable right now. He instead assumes the limbo position, all the while thrusting his crotch at me vigorously. The faces that have grown out of the severed arms begin moaning suggestively and I feel Naiberg''s fingers stroke my inner thigh. "I can''t hold it in anymore." the faces of Naiberg murmur as a visible bulge forms at the main body''s crotch. Hearing the nudist moan suggestively and seeing that crazy shit that makes my stomach sink and I immediately start slashing away at the severed arms in order to free myself. Damn, the hentai hero is Tensei, not me. Shouldn''t he be the one dealing with all this? The tattered remnants of Naiberg''s pants explode from the pressure building at his crotch and his penis tears outwards, swollen and trembling. The organ trembles as it keeps growing, eventually reaching the size of one of Naiberg''s legs. Naiberg groans in distress from the weight of the massively bloated dick as he takes a few lumbering steps in my direction, aiming his penis straight at me.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "Fuck." I mutter. "Yes. Mr Gallant." Naiberg groans as his penis trembles with increasing intensity, "Fuck indeed." The nudist''s penis explodes in a shower of meat and from the wreckage emerges a bouquet of rainbow colored snakes growing out of his crotch. Hissing viciously, the rainbow snakes surge forward like a tidal wave, fangs bared hungrily. Crazed laughter emits from the faces on the severed arms as I brace myself for the attack. "Allow me, Transmigrator." The Voice rasps as the spider drone emerges from the shadows and leaps on to Naiberg''s defenseless head. Still in his limbo position, Naiberg is knocked off balance by the drone and lands hard on the ground, thrashing fruitlessly about. The faces cry out in dismay as the rainbow snakes instinctively abort their attack in order to defend their master. "Get if off!" Naiberg shrieks in panic as the snakes sink their fangs into the drone and begin to pull, "Get it off!" The spider drone retaliates by digging its legs into Naiberg''s face, drawing blood and managing to pierce bone. Naiberg''s cries become more agonized as the snakes keep pulling at the now dug in drone, the force literally wearing away on his skull. Taking opportunity of this distraction, I slice through the last of the severed limbs and scramble back up to my feet. "Destroy the codex and proceed to extract." The Voice instructs, "My drones will handle the pretender." "No." I refuse, "The codex is the means to separate myself from Gallant. I''m taking it with me." The Voice hesitates for a moment before answering, "Very well. Make it quick. I am calling the construction drones to the landing area now." I nod and rush towards the struggling body of Naiberg and bring the sword down on his crotch with a single clean stroke. Naiberg shrieks in pain as the snakes are severed from his body at the root and blood sprays outwards in a geyser. Grasping the snake bouquet, I fling the writhing mass at the flaming heap that was once the soul smasher. As the black flames devour the snakes, Naiberg hollers until his voice breaks completely, the drone latching on to his face completely forgotten. "You said it yourself," I comment dourly to the nudist, "Getting your body chipped or scratched is no big deal, right?" I shuck off the trench coat and wrapping one of my arms around it, reach into the burning soul smasher to retrieve the codex. The trench coat catches fire immediately, but protects my arm long enough for me to pull the codex out of the blaze. The moment the codex is separated from the machine, it loses all power, sinking back into its former inert state. The only sign that it had been partially activated are the now lifeless petals that remain open on the codex''s surface. Sheathing the sword and dropping the codex into my now free hand, I toss the burning trench coat at Naiberg''s body as a farewell gift and spare a glance at both the Hero and the Idol. The Idol''s still unconscious on the floor while the Hero has almost broken through the holding cell, his face bearing an almost psychotic expression. "They will be fine." The Voice states in a matter of fact fashion, "My drones will ensure their safety. Make haste." If you say so boss man. Holding the codex securely in my hands, I charge down the corridor leading back to the landing area. The ragged remnants of the Judecca Militia flee past me in the direction of the lab, pursued by the scissor wolves, heedless of anything else going on around them. They are all going to die. I know it. The Voice will just keep spawning drones until it has performed a clean sweep. That''s the price for picking the losing side, I suppose. I punch through the now abandoned barricade and make my way to the exposed landing area. Without the warmth offered by the trench coat, the chill wind causes goose bumps to rise across my skin. Turning to the skies and squinting into the distance, I see the formation of construction drones rapidly approaching the Tower. Right on time. "Its not over yet." a hoarse voice interrupts my thoughts. A rush of spiritual pressure comes from somewhere behind me. I turn around and see nothing. My gaze turns to the left and right, but again nothing. "Down here." the hoarse voice snaps. I look down, and see a head crudely fused on to three severed arms that serve as makeshift legs. Naiberg''s back for one final round? But no, the head is clearly not his. Not only is there no beard, there''s an ugly jagged scar that cuts across one of the head''s eyes. The creature begins padding towards me on its arm-legs and blazes its core menacingly. "Naiberg?" I ask, thoroughly unsure as to just what is going on. "No. Its Bobby." the head replies, smirking at a private joke. I narrow my eyes and tighten my grip on the codex as the spiritual pressure around me continues to build. The clouds in the sky begin to churn restlessly, stirred up by whatever the head is doing. "Sky''s Judgment!" the head shouts at the top of its voice, unleashing a torrent of spiritual energy into its spell. And before I can react, the clouds break apart, and a single shaft of lightning lances towards the landing area. True Form The bolt of lightning parts the clouds and slashes towards the landing area accompanied by the peal of thunder. I reflexively close my eyes and brace for the frying to come, but surprisingly enough, nothing happens. Cautiously cracking my eyes back open, I take a quick look about and quickly realize that the attack had against the odds, missed. Instead of striking the landing area itself, the lightning bolt had blasted through one of the pylons supporting the structure itself, leaving a wound that bleeds melted steel. "Naiberg, Bobby, whatever your name is." I smirk at the head, "Might want to get your eyes checked." The head scowls in annoyance as it arm-legs begin to shift, bulking up with oversized muscles. I stuff the codex into an empty pouch on the bandoleer and waive towards the approaching formation of construction drones cruising through the night sky. There''s no need for me to dirty my hands when The Voice can finish the fight with its spawned scissor wolves. Right on cue, the doors of the container burst open once again and a fresh pack of combat drones surge outwards and surround the head, snapping their scissors menacingly. The head snarls in barely suppressed rage and begins to pound the landing area rhythmically with its roided out arm-legs. The platform shakes from the impact and suddenly tilts to one side as the damaged pylon completely gives way. As the once flat surface of the landing area abruptly transforms into a steep incline, the containers begin sliding downwards, eventually tipping over the edge of the platform, plummeting towards the streets below. The scissor wolves, unable to retain their footing on the tilting platform, begin to slide away from the head, all the while desperately scraping their legs against the platform in an effort to gain some traction. I force myself flat on to the platform and send power into my fingers, allowing me to tear a pair of makeshift handholds out of the tilting surface. My eyes take in the sheer, more than fifty story drop that beckons should I loose my grip. "Hurry up. Hurry up." I urge The Voice, "I don''t want to go splat on the streets below." "I am on my way." The Voice reassures and I hear the engines of the construction drones approaching rapidly. I grit my teeth and hang on for dear life. "Sky''s Judgment!" the head screams again and a wave of spiritual pressure is fired into the stratosphere. Yet another bolt of lightning called down and this time it tears through the approaching drone formation, causing several of the drones to explode in flames. The Voice immediately breaks off its approach towards the platform and scatters the remaining drones to keep them safe from further attack. The burning construction drones careen out of control and slam into the already damaged platform with the force of meteorites. The remaining pylon can''t withstand the strain and the platform drops again, this time at nearly a right angle from its original position. The scissor wolves are thrown off by this sudden shift and the entire pack takes the plunge en masse. The head desperately wraps its arm-legs around the safety railing and dangles from there, chortling mean spiritedly to itself. My arms burn with the effort of holding on to the now vertical platform and as the momentum of the drop slams me repeatedly against the platform''s surface. Sweat, born from the mixture of fatigue and desperation begins to get into my eyes. "I have lost several of the construction drones and the Tower''s superstructure will not be able to hold the landing area for much longer." The Voice helpfully informs. "No shit." I snap, spitting out a mouthful of snow in the process, "Can you extract me from the top of the Tower?" "Yes." The Voice rasps, "Make haste or all will be lost, Transmigrator." I flare the artificial core and begin clawing my way upwards, my fingers easily sinking into the surface of the platform. As the landing area wobbles worryingly, I make my way towards the wall of the Tower itself and secure my footing against a window ledge. The snowstorm presses oppressively against me as I get my bearings and take the opportunity to take a calming breath. The powers The Voice supplied me with may be taking care of strength and coordination, but nerves are a separate matter entirely. The head is battered against the railing as the strong winds lash at it relentlessly. Every time the head shifts its grip in an attempt to pursue me, the wind very nearly sends it flying off into the distance. Pinned down by the elements, all it can do is glare at me hatefully. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. "You''re not the only one who entered into a pact Mr Gallant!" the head roars, "Now witness me fully unleashed!" The head''s jaw dislocates as its mouth yawns open. From the darkness of its non-existent throat, a pair of eyes blink, shining with awareness and purpose. The head makes a gargling sound as it bends backwards and the head of a giant rainbow snake begins to slide out from its mouth. As the body of the rainbow snake continues to emerge, the head begins to shrivel up, losing all its moisture. The snake slithers towards the wall of the Tower and begins to coil its considerable girth around it, the head, now laughably small compared to the snake itself, sloughs away, like the discarded skin of a molting serpent. The rainbow snake wends its way towards me, with a sibilant hiss, "Come now, Mr Gallant. Discard that useless bag of flesh and face me as your real self. Or do you think your strength is sufficient without assuming your true form?" Damn. I suppose I do have a true form, but its far less awesome than what Naiberg-Bobby probably assumes it to be. I begin to scale the Tower as quick as I can, trying to escape the beckoning maw of the rainbow snake. As both of us begin our climb upwards towards the pinnacle, the entire Tower shakes and a massive wave of pressure washes over everything, leaving Naiberg-Bobby and myself gasping for breath. The sound of commotion drifts up from below and I see ORPO retreating in chaos from the Tower. "The Hero has escaped and is engaging the Judecca Militia and Host forces." The Voice rumbles, "He will stop at nothing to secure Heroine Majima''s safety, collateral damage be damned." I get the message. I need to escape before I become part of the Hero''s kill count. Picking up the pace, I continue to climb the Tower, with the rainbow snake hot in pursuit. The Tower shakes again and part of the wall below us suddenly blows out, sending the body of a militiaman flying into the distance, a black spirit sword squarely impaled in his chest. "If you will not yield your heart and soul to me," the rainbow snake hisses, "then I will settle for just your body!" With a sudden burst of speed, the snake surges forward, its jaw opening to swallow me whole. I pull myself upwards in an explosive burst of force, sending chunks of concrete spiraling downwards, but the snake is still too fast. A wet warmth begins to envelope my lower body as the snake''s jaws clamp down and begin to pull. My hands dig into a ledge like a vice and Naiberg-Bobby growls with frustration as he attempts to suck me down his gullet. "A little help here?" I request, hoping The Voice has a trick up its figurative sleeve. A ripping noise erupts from the snake''s mouth as my trousers tear away from my legs. Taken by surprise at the lump of cloth falling down its throat, the snake momentarily loosens its grip, allowing me to slip my legs out of its mouth and continue scrambling up the Tower''s wall. The cold wind lashes my naked legs while the shin gunto''s scabbard, still left hanging from the belt around my waist, slaps against my bare thighs. I curse inwardly about what a shitty god The Voice is. Divine intervention involves losing my pants. Best god ever. Five star rating. Another wave of pressure hits and this time the rainbow snake snarls in pain as several black spirit sword blast through the wall, piercing through its scales. The Hero is clearing the floors one by one, working his way upwards. Leaving me just barely ahead of him. As Naiberg-Bobby flares its core to purge the Hero''s miasma, I climb the final stretch to the Tower''s pinnacle, a flat roof with several antennas installed all over it. As I clamber over the ledge and throw myself in between the antennas, I cast my eyes upwards to the sky and see a construction drone zooming towards me from the distance. From below, the enraged hissing of the rainbow snake draws closer as well. At this rate, Naiberg-Bobby will surely reach me before the drone does. I unsheathe the shin gunto in readiness for one final exchange between us. "Give me Salvation!" the snake thunders as its head crests the roof''s ledge. With a single smooth motion, the snake lunges forward, leveling the forest of antennas in its quest to devour me. As the snake''s jaws charge towards me, I draw the revolver from its holster and empty the cylinder straight into Naiberg-Bobby''s face. Most of the shots are deflected by the snake''s scales, but two rounds smack into the sensitive inner lining of its mouth, causing blood to flow and leaving Naiberg-Bobby thrashing on the ground in pain. Raising the sword high, I plunge it down vertically through the snake''s body with all my might, piercing through its scales. As Naiberg-Bobby shudders from the agony, I bring my fist down in a hammer blow against the sword''s hilt, driving the blade further in and nailing the snake securely to the roof. The entire Tower shudders again as the familiar wave of pressure hits both if us again. Its the Hero. And he''s almost caught up with us. The drone dives towards me and I grab on to its outstretched limbs, allowing myself to be carried away just as cracks begin to appear throughout the roof. Like an erupting volcano, miasma bursts outwards from the collapsing roof, enveloping the snake entirely. Multiple black spirit swords pierce Naiberg-Bobby''s body as he plummets into the billowing depths of the Tower, his spirit core dimming as the Hero''s power overwhelms him utterly. The drone flies me away from the carnage, towards the horizon where dawn is just starting to break. "Well done." The Voice congratulates, "Mission accomplished." The Mornning After The scent of soil and sweat fills my nose. My entire body aches with fatigue and there is a sense of weakness deep within me, as if my strength has been greatly depleted. Something clings tightly to my side, something soft, fragrant and warm. From the distance, I hear the sounds of birds chirping. A hard sensation digs into my back while I lie on the ground. I instinctively try shifting into a more comfortable position, but the clinging sensation intensifies and presses down against me, preventing me from moving. I hear an annoyed grumble come from the very edge of my slowly recovering awareness. What in the world happened? Think. The last thing I recall was Kira talking to me back in the hospital, then after that, darkness. But there were dreams, dreams in which I was fighting to rescue her from someone. Were we kidnapped? Did we manage to get away? Where are the rest of our friends? I rack my brain for answers, but more confused imagery is all I get in return. A pair of men quarreling, interrupted by someone wielding a sword. Snakes, snakes everywhere. And finally, fire that cleansed everything. Snow falls gently over my body, providing the heat coming from whatever it is by my side with a pleasant contrast. Hold up, why do I feel the snow falling all over my body? Where are my clothes? Fearing the worst, I slowly open my eyes and see a canopy of trees looming over me, the morning sun shyly peeking from between the branches. Good, this is great actually. I recognize where I am right now. Its the Heath, the large park near the Academy, where I had fought my duel with Ken. I am not locked away at some unknown location or facing any immediate danger. Strange circumstances aside, it would not take me long to get back to the Academy''s dorms from my current location. "Good morning." a sleepy voice whispers into my ear. "Gah!" I jerk upwards in surprise and roll across the dirt and grass. As the assorted pebbles and branches rub against my body, it does not take my mind long to appreciate the fact that yes, for some reason or other, I am in the nude. And right in front of me is Kira pouting in my direction, lounging on the grass completely naked, idly playing with her disheveled twin tails. I blush furiously while desperately trying to make sense of the situation unfolding. How did we go from the hospital to the Heath? And why are we naked? I clasp my hands over my privates in a lame attempt at salvaging what''s left of my modesty. Kira hums happily, "Like or love? I think I have the answer to that question now. I never realized you wanted me so badly, Tensei." Shit. That means we did it. How am I going to explain this to Sera and Irene? How am I going to break it to Kira that I don''t have the foggiest idea about what had happened? "Uh, the last thing I remember was the hospital ..." I say, before meaningfully leaving the sentence uncompleted. Kira crosses her legs and sighs, "Yeah. We were discussing your move to Ascension Tower. Remember that?" I nod. I do remember something like that. Kira also seems to be taking my amnesia really well too. This might not be a complete disaster after all. "We were kidnapped, Tensei." Kira frowns, "Mike had lost control over his people. I don''t know why they did it, but that''s how things panned out." "Is that why I can''t remember anything?" I press. Being kidnapped would explain much of the weirdness we were in right now. Kira coughs lightly, a trickle of blood escaping her lips. She takes a breath and continues her explanation, "I think so? I heard them talking about keeping you drugged while we were imprisoned at the Tower." "You''re hurt!" I rush forward and hold Kira in my arms gently, ignoring the growing pain slowly building from somewhere within me. Kira melts in my arms and brushes her cheek affectionately against mine. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. "I''m fine." she whispers while stroking my lips with her fingers, "I can hang on until we get to a doctor." "If the Representative''s people did this," I ask, "what happened to him then?" Tears flow from Kira''s eyes as she buries her head against my chest, sniffling, "When Mike knew what had happened, he tried to rescue us. There was a fight and you managed to break out of wherever you were being held." As I am still digesting what Kira is telling me, a sob escapes from her, "Mike didn''t join us in escaping. I think he might be dead." Dead. Deceased. The word hits me like a truck. Representative Michael had promised to help me in my fight against Nicholas, and now he''s become yet another casualty in this blasted fight over my inheritance. Another person I failed to save. As my rage builds, I sense the familiar tension in my spirit core pushing outwards, seeking to break through my limits. The power within me gathers, and - "Agh!" I shout as a sharp pain lances through my heart. The spirituality coursing through my core abruptly dissipates and the same feeling of emptiness I experienced when I first woke up floods through my veins once more. Something''s wrong. I don''t know what exactly, but my senses tell me that something has gone very badly wrong with my spirit core. "Don''t force yourself Tensei." Kira urges softly, "You''ve been very busy the last night. Not just rescuing me, but also with ... other things." "Yeah." I agree as Kira lays my head over her lap and begins to massage my temples, "We need to get to a hospital quickly." First things first. I can explain matters with Sera and Irene when I meet them again. "I don''t mind Tensei." Kira replies simply. I make a confused sound, not sure what she''s talking about. "Your face is an open book. That''s one of the things I like about you." Kira smiles, "So honest and sweet. I don''t mind being last. After Irene and Sera." "Kira -" I gasp in surprise. How long had she known? "You love me, Tensei, I know that now." Kira ruffles my hair fondly, "Just like I love you. I''m not a selfish person Tensei. If being with you makes Sera and Irene happy, then I''m all for it as well. Just let me stay by your side until the end." I gaze at Kira''s calm face, not sensing any deceit in her words. How admirable. This is a side of Kira that I had never seen before. If she can be so generous, how can I not follow suit? Allowing her to stay with me is really the least I can do. "Mike was the only family I had." Kira murmurs, "He didn''t want me to give up my dream no matter what. For Mike''s sake, I will see it to the end." "Dream?" I ask, allowing my mind to drift away as Kira strokes my face. Is it something like being the world''s greatest idol? I could get behind that. I''ll support Kira''s dream with all my strength. "One day I''ll tell you." Kira beams, "On the day it comes true." ..... "We''re here Irene." Celeste tells me as the cab drives off, leaving us at the main entrance of the von Amsterg manor. "This is a mistake." I shrink away from the double doors, repaired from the previous altercation that took place here. How things have changed. "There is no other way." Celeste urges, "This is the only safe place for you. And the only place you can have a future." I glance about, feeling like a foreign interloper. Celeste is sure of her plan, but she is ultimately just a young girl. There''s no guarantee that things will work out the way she predicted. In fact, the odds are on the two of us being thrown out on our behinds without any ceremony. The only reason why I agreed to this madness is because things had gotten so dire. "Come on." Celeste gestures, "The radio said it already, ORPO has pulled out from Ascension Tower. The patrols will be back on the streets soon. There''s not much time." That''s right. There really isn''t much time left for me. I don''t have any good options left. I square my shoulders and join Celeste in walking towards the manor''s entrance. Celeste reaches up and raps the ornate knocker against the double doors. Silence, then I hear the sound of shuffling feet coming from the other side. With a creak, the doors are opened by a young maid. "Welcome to the von Amsterg manor." the maid greets, "What is your business - eh!" "Eh!" Celeste cries out in surprise as well upon seeing the maid. My mouth dries up almost immediately. We just got here and things are already going wrong. "Sera?" I ask. "Inspector?" the maid shoots back with a question of her own. While Celeste and I are still reeling from shock, Sera lowers her voice and queries, "Are you here to seek shelter as well Inspector?" Before I can respond, Celeste cuts in, "Something like that. We''re here to discuss an important matter actually." Sera steps aside and waves us inside the manor, saying, "Sure. What is this about?" "Not with you." Celeste dismisses as we follow Sera into the palatial residence. I try signalling to Celeste not to be so standoffish but she ignores me and presses on with her point. "We''re here to see the master of the family." Jumping The Gun "Smart ass," Hernandez''s hoarse voice crackles from the earpiece, "have any good news for me? If we can''t find golden boy after all that happened, the whole operation was a complete waste." I stretch myself out on the sleeping bag placed in the back of the SUV and savor the gentle rocking of the car as it cruises down the highway. Well, the adventure might have been a waste for you Commander, but I got exactly what I wanted out of it. I toss the Codex up into the air before deftly catching it again and smirk to myself. What the hell, I''m in a good mood right now. Might as well throw Hernandez a bone to buy some goodwill for the future. "The Heath, Commander." I reply, "That''s where you''ll find Tensei. Or at the very least, its the last place we managed to trace Tensei to be at." Should I tell Hernandez that the Hero and the Idol are rutting like a pair of wild monkeys in heat right now? Nah. His men will find out soon enough anyway. "Tell the Commander to send an ambulance when he picks up the Hero." The Voice rasps before Hernandez can respond. "The Heath." Hernandez confirms, "Alright, I''ll send a team there to investigate. Mind telling me how Tensei suddenly grew a pair of black wings and flew off carrying a girl after kicking everyone''s ass back at the Tower?" "Tensei''s half angel." I shrug, "Part of his inherited power set?" "Kicking the combined asses of an army''s worth of police and guards." Hernandez scoffs, "Really?" "Maybe?" I spin the codex on the surface of the sleeping bag like a top, "I was too busy being chased by the giant snake to pay much notice." Hernandez barks with laughter, "And losing your trousers in the bargain. My daughter showed me a viral video of a flying man in his underpants that''s all the rage over the net right now. Thought that guy looked familiar." "Cute." I grumble, "Anyway you might want to send an ambulance when you go pick up Tensei. Beating up all those people can''t have been very healthy for him." "Right. Right." Hernandez replies before hanging up, "Talk to you later, Gallant." As the line between Hernandez and I goes dead, the laptop beside me begins booting up and shows the live footage being streamed from one of The Voice''s aerial drones hanging out above the Heath. Not that there is much to see. Just trees and more trees. The camera switches to infrared mode and against the cold backdrop of the snow is a pair of figures frantically grinding against each other as they roll about in the dirt under the cover of the trees. "We have a problem." The Voice flatly states. "You don''t say." I deadpan in return, "You''re the only porn cameraman who could make sex look totally unsexy. Got to admit, that''s a pretty big problem." "Not that." The Voice rasps impatiently, "I am monitoring the Hero''s vitals right now. There''s a problem. A serious one." The Voice closes the window screening the porn show and replaces it with what I assume to be a real time display of the Hero''s current condition. There''s a picture of the Hero right in the center of the screen flanked by colored meters under headings such as strength, dexterity, constitution and so on. Underneath the stat bars is a paragraph of text marked as ''Objectives''. Full marks for the user friendly interface Voice. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Might as well take a gander at how well the Hero is doing at fulfilling his destiny since The Voice had taken the trouble to show me Tensei''s current status. Let''s see, it says here that the Hero still has to claim his the princedom of Europe. Number of Heroines impregnated stands at two out of three though. Progress is being made, slowly and surely. Unfortunately, there''s also the big ''ERROR'' message flashing across the objectives box in angry red capitals. To my dismay, the screen does not provide any actual details about what this error is. Just as I am about to ask The Voice about what''s going on, I notice that the Hero''s score under the Strength tab drop ever so slightly. The drop is so tiny that its barely noticeable, but it certainly happened. "The Hero is getting weaker?" I ask The Voice. "Yes." The Voice rumbles, "With the contest for the princedom of Europe approaching, you can see why this is a problem." As The Voice speaks, it happens again. This time the Hero''s dexterity rating drops a tiny notch. From the visual representation of the Hero''s stats, I assume that they are all currently top tier, worthy of this world''s eventual savior. But that might no longer be the case if the stats keep dropping on their own accord. "How?" I query. "This is the reason why I asked Commander Hernandez to bring an ambulance with him when retrieving the Hero." The Voice says, "Its the fastest way I can get data on the Hero''s spirit core." "You already have made a guess as to what happened though." I point out, "There''s no other reason for you to be getting so antsy, especially if the drops in the Hero''s power level are so minor that they could be written off as caused by his injuries." The Voice is silent at my comment, taking a few moments to gather its thoughts. It finally responds, "Castiel had successfully suborned Heroine Majima. While not in the fashion he originally intended, it has nevertheless caused a serious complication in our plans." "You sure about that?" I grunt with an eyebrow raised, "That porn show you were screening just now seems to be saying something different." The Voice reflects contemplatively, "It is precisely the ''porn show'', as you put it, that has gotten me so worried. I fear that the Hero''s termination protocol has been inadvertently triggered." "Once activated, the termination protocol will gradually restrict the Hero''s power, aiding in Heroine Majima''s task to eliminate him." The Voice continues, "It will also prevent the Hero from entering his awakened state, so that he cannot simply brute force his way out from any attack by Heroine Majima." "Why now though?" I ruminate, "What could have caused the termination protocol to activate? Unless you are saying that sex with the Idol is the cause?" "Timing." The Voice explains, "Heroine Majima under Castiel''s influence probably unconsciously signaled her intention to carry out the Hero''s assassination early and the Hero, picking up on the message during sexual intercourse, deployed the termination protocol to expedite her mission. That is most likely the reason why I am receiving error messages from the Hero. The directives I supplied him with are being triggered out of their required order." Now that''s a problem. I sit back up and begin rubbing my chin in thought. I need the Hero dead, but there wouldn''t be any point to the whole thing if he gets himself killed in the contest itself. "Then we need to get the contest going early." I announce, "Before the Hero becomes completely impotent." The laptop then cycles to a photo of the Loli vampire as The Voice answers in a vexed tone, "Our earlier choices have returned to haunt us, Transmigrator. The skills the Hero has acquired from training under Inspector Scott are of little use against Marshal St Clair. Even at the Hero''s peak strength with his current ability set, I expect the battle to be decided in the Marshal''s favor. It would not matter if the Hero could awaken, but -" "But we can''t count on that now." I finish unhappily. Damn it. I thought it would be smooth sailing as far as the duel between Loli Vampire and the Hero was concerned. He could just flip out and stun lock the vampire into oblivion. But if that''s off the table, the situation becomes far grimmer. "Which is the reason why I want an analysis done on the Hero''s spirit core." The Voice concludes, "Once we have confirmation either way, we can draft the appropriate plans and move forward." "Speaking about moving forward," I quickly cut in, "there''s something we really need to talk about." "Yes." The Voice agrees, "I was wondering when you would bring it up. The codex right?" I nod, "Its time to discuss future prospects, boss man." The Scales I steel myself mentally and review what I know about my summoning and the world that I have been thrown into. I need every edge available for the upcoming negotiations with The Voice. That was why I had not started nagging at it the moment the codex fell into our hands. Knowing The Voice, if I negotiated in ignorance, I would wind up losing my pants again, and additionally it would charge me for the privilege of spawning a fresh pair. So what can I be sure of? First of all, I am confident that I am unique. There are no other dimension hoppers other than me running around at the present time. Fate would have no interest in bringing in external contractors not bound to its red thread. And it has been well-established that I am the only actual agent The Voice has in this world. If I had any actual comrades, I would have met them by now. This means that I am The Voice''s only real counter to the Incarnates. The Voice needs me, for the near term at least. That would probably be the reason why it has been willing to offer rewards in exchange for my cooperation. "As I have said before," The Voice rasps, "I am willing to offer as your prize a kingdom upon Fate''s defeat or alternatively, a pension if you decide to return home once the quest is completed. That offer still stands." I raise an eyebrow as I idly fiddle with the inert codex. Knowing the value of what I hold in my hands, The Voice''s opening offer is surprisingly stingy. Come on, we both know what the codex can do. Though after experiencing how miserly The Voice is at providing equipment, I really should be expecting this response from it. "Really, that''s it?" I ask while tapping the codex, "I''m putting a lot more value on the table right now." "I fail to see the added value you refer to, Transmigrator." The Voice rebuts innocently, "Is there any legitimate cause for me to amend my offer?" "The codex? You remember that right?" I say as calmly as possible, trying not to get riled up by The Voice''s transparent baiting. "Most indeed." The Voice confirms, "What is your appraisal of the codex''s value then?" Playing dumb huh? Alright, I will spell it out for you. No point being shy in these kinds of negotiations. I know The Voice will shut down any attempt on my part at following Fate''s footsteps, but that does not mean I can''t cash in my proverbial chips. "I''m holding the key to godhood right now in my hands." I quip, "That''s worth way more than just money or land." "How?" The Voice rumbles with barely concealed amusement. "Pardon?" I shoot back, taken by surprise by this question, "What do you mean ''how''?" "Exactly what I asked." The Voice responds smugly, "How is the codex the key to godhood in your hands? Do you know how to perform the ascension ritual itself? Do you possess the infrastructure to actually activate the codex? Are you capable of sourcing for appropriate sacrifices without my help? Or is all you have the rantings of a clearly insane man and possession of an unusual metal sphere?" Damn, The Voice is playing hardball straight off the bat. Its really not willing to revise its offer upwards. "Before you ask," The Voice continues, "I do not know how to perform the ascension ritual either. Neither would I help you with it even if I possessed that knowledge. So do not bother asking me for that as your reward." "More pertinently," the lecture continues, "I believe that you are mistaken in the codex''s value, Transmigrator. It is an active danger to me. I have only allowed you to retain it out of goodwill, nothing more. The sooner we rid ourselves of it the better." I wipe the sweat gathering at my forehead as my brain kicks into overdrive. The Voice is clearly trying to force me into obliging it by taking the moral high ground. But I have known it long enough and can pretty much guarantee that goodwill does not figure into its calculus. I recall the time just after I was first summoned, when The Voice threatened to lock me in a room if I did not obey its instructions. Anyone who uses the threat of starvation to coerce obedience does not hold goodwill as a concept in high regard. Then there''s the high handed way The Voice treated Alley and Hernandez. Threats to bully them into submitting. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Something else is at play here, I just need to work out what it is. Why is The Voice willing to negotiate with me now? What has changed? Or did anything really change in the first place? I think back to Alley and Hernandez. The Voice had protected Alley from the Academy discovering her embezzlement and demanded service in exchange. Even after Alley had been arrested, The Voice never actually revealed her crimes. That was the reason why she was eventually released. There was no evidence to justify ORPO holding Alley in remand. With Hernandez, The Voice urged me to keep cooperating with him even after Hernandez dragged his feet on mounting the attack against Ascension Tower. The Voice remained confident that Hernandez would deliver eventually, even after Hernandez''s real problem, the URI, had already been dealt with. Alley on her part went beyond her obligations to The Voice when Nicky attacked the school, actively protecting the students and not fleeing as I expected she would. Hernandez is an asshole who tried blackmailing me, but instead became a reliable collaborator. Alley stood her ground during a terrorist attack despite having no reason to do so. Both had received favors from The Voice. Both served The Voice''s interest, despite ostensibly being under Fate''s dominion. It was as if Hernandez and Alley had been swept up by a rival force, weakening Fate''s influence over them. This is a world driven by destiny. Where people live out their lives on routes and true paths. The Voice might not be able to control souls, but that doesn''t mean it can''t alter destiny. The true path involving the Hero would not exist otherwise. Divergence points would not occur either. I cast my mind back to my own history with The Voice. It had summoned me and forced me into acting as its servant. It then dangled my freedom as a reward for my service. The moment I had my psychotic break, The Voice immediately started offering actual rewards to mollify me. A pattern is emerging. I had suspicions from before, and now its time to put my hypothesis to the test. "I don''t expect much, boss man." I probe, "But the scales have to be balanced at the very least." The Voice is quiet at my response. As it thinks in silence, my heart begins to palpitate rapidly. Did I make the right guess? "I will free you from Mr Gallant once Fate is completely defeated." The Voice finally pronounces, "That is what you need the codex for, correct?" "Not good enough." I counter, smelling blood in the water, "I broke the death route you had been forced on. That''s a debt you owe me right there. And I captured the means to create artificial synchronicity events. That''s added value for you." I clench my hands tightly as The Voice sinks back into quiet contemplation. If my hypothesis is correct, The Voice has all this while been luring Hernandez, Alley and myself on to a route controlled by it. And the means The Voice used to accomplish this and keep us on the world''s true path is something that is surprisingly simple. Equivalent exchange. Hernandez and Alley accepted The Voice''s favors and were compelled by destiny to work for it in return, even if it means opposing Fate. When The Voice summoned me, it already owed me a debt, and it used a combination of intimidation and misdirection to try paying off the debt as cheaply as possible. The moment I began to make a fuss, The Voice upped its compensation package to more than just a ticket home. "What do you propose?" The Voice rasps warily. "Ascension." I shoot back. "Impossible." The Voice dismisses, "I do not possess the means, nor have you accomplished enough to merit such a reward." I breathe out a sigh of relief at The Voice''s answer. This proves it, The Voice is compelled to compensate me appropriately under an iron clad law of the universe. Probably to prevent instability from wrecking the true path it had painstakingly set up. "I want to go home once the Hero completes his mission." I say. "Deal." comes the response. No shit, that''s the easy part. "I want you to start working on separating my soul from Gallant now." I press on. "Not practical." The Voice refuses, "You saw for yourself how much infrastructure operating the codex requires. Setting it all up while Fate is still active would merely invite failure and jeopardize our larger mission. The earliest I can begin addressing your problem would be after the Hero is eliminated." "Fair enough." I grunt, accepting the proposal. Its better than The Voice''s initial offer at any rate. I continue, "I''ll take the pension and a guarantee that I''ll actually receive the money when I get back home." The Voice falls silent again but it eventually answers slowly, "As I have told you before, a guarantee is not something I can actually manage. However, I can provide certain inducements to your dimension''s administrator for it to overlook you returning home with a foreign blessing. So yes, agreed." You bullshitter, I curse in my heart. You were never intending to allow me to leave with the money weren''t you? You were probably going to send a halfhearted request to my own administrator and throw your figurative hands up in the air when a denial is fired back. Leaving me with nothing. "However," The Voice interrupts my thoughts with relish, "such inducements will cost me dearly. The scales have tipped back in my favor Transmigrator." "Now, let''s talk about what you are going to do for me." Oaths and Promises "Bull. Shit." I enunciate slowly for The Voice to get the message in full. The Voice patronizingly replies, "You seem to believe that hashing out deals between gods is something that is easy and cheap. I assure you, obtaining the guarantee you seek will put me through substantial expense, far more than what the codex is worth." I shake my head ruefully. The Voice is back at its old games of misdirection. I have no doubt that its telling the truth about the cost regarding my request, or at the very least part of the truth. What The Voice is trying to slip past me is the actual profit it stands to gain from our arrangement. Profit that has yet to be accounted for in its calculations. "You said it yourself," I shoot back, "The Hero needs to succeed for you to remain this world''s administrator." "Just so." The Voice agrees, "How is that relevant to our negotiations, Transmigrator?" "If not for my past and future effort," I challenge, "you would not be able to retain your place in this world. The very fact that we are quibbling about balancing the books means that you can afford to grease the hands of my world''s administrator once your victory is secure. Grease that my work directly contributes towards." Smirking with confidence, I press forwards, "If I wasn''t here, the Hero would have been sent down one of Fate''s divergence points long ago. You would not be able to escape the doom Fate had planned for you through the codex. Are you saying your position and life are worth less than a bribe paid to my world''s administrator?" The Voice grunts in acknowledgement at my statement as it considers what I have said. But the fight is far from over as The Voice rallies and fires off its rebuttal. "I agree that I would be in a far worse place without you." The Voice rasps, "However, that does not mean I am making a profit on this transaction. I am spending resources and power to merely retain my position that is under attack. Employing you as my agent in these circumstances will inevitably result in a deficit on my part. You cannot expect me to share profits with you when those alleged profits simply do not exist." The Voice continues in its signature rumble, "The only profit on the table now is the codex, which I again admit has some value to me. Unfortunately, that value is not commensurate with what you are requesting. Like you Transmigrator, I am not asking for much. Only for the scales to be balanced between us." "All that doesn''t change the fact that my work has intrinsic worth." I point out, "Worth that you are benefiting from." "Which is the reason why I am offering compensation which is more than reasonable." The Voice rasps triumphantly, "The pension I raised earlier is worth more a year than the combined annual incomes of all the people you have killed so far." "Except that there''s no guarantee I can actually collect." I state dourly. "Then take up my proposal to found a kingdom of your own in this world." The Voice offers, "Once the dust from the conflict settles, you can make a hundredfold return on the time and work you have put in on my behalf." I narrow my eyes and challenge, "You once told me that the personality is bound to the mind, not the soul. What if something happens to my actual body back home while I am playing king?" The Voice is silent. I follow up with another question, "You can''t guarantee the safety of my real body, can''t you? I might be drowning in my own puke right now for all we know."Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. More silence from The Voice. Damn it, the truth is coming out now. Every single one of The Voice''s offers are at their root, Faustian bargains. That cheapskate god has been trying to fleece me all this while. "You are not drowning in your own vomit, Transmigrator." The Voice finally manages to say. "No shit." I roll my eyes, "Is that why you''re dragging your feet on separating me from Gallant? So that there''s a replacement in the event I suddenly go brain dead?" "Mr Gallant cannot even hear me." The Voice protests. "Alley can''t hear you." I force past the weak protest, "Hernandez can''t hear you. Yet they do your bidding regardless. Why?" The Voice responds in a dangerously soft tone, "Why indeed? Explain it for me." "To repay their debts to you." I conclude, "Its the reason why the universe will compel Gallant to serve you as well. He used your power to fuel his magic. Your artificial core is boosting his body. Gallant owes you big time and he will pay, one way or the other, am I right?" The Voice chuckles darkly at my declaration, "Yes. Full marks Transmigrator. I am glad I summoned a man such as yourself. Mutual understanding makes deceit unnecessary. Its a rather refreshing way of doing business. Certainly less tedious than relying on lures and temptations." "I maintain that my original offer to you was fair. I am making nothing, therefore I offered nothing in return. Just as you would restore me to my original position, I would do the same for you if you had elected to return home. Though I can tell that this is not something that you will accept." "So, this is my revised offer Transmigrator," The Voice rasps, "I will secure the necessary guarantee you seek as well as return you home safe and sound as a wealthy man, but in return, I require an oath from you, that you will do everything necessary to ensure Fate''s demise." "Pass." I dismiss, "I get to go home after the mission is complete, not after Fate is defeated or killed." "Very well." The Voice accepts, "An oath that you will do everything necessary to complete our mission in return for the rewards mentioned." "Yeah." I confirm, "Its not as if I have any other choice really. Is this oath thing like a magical spell or contract?" "Sincerity is a far stronger chain than most people would expect." The Voice explains, "Swear on your title in this world and let destiny be your witness." "My title?" I ask, feeling rather confused, "Not my name?" "Names mean nothing to me." The Voice says flatly, "Fate erased my name with a curse. For centuries I have lived without one. A title is unique, representing both the person and the deeds he has accomplished. There are many men who walk this world, but there is only one Transmigrator. There is no better show of sincerity than an oath sworn under that descriptor." "Then I want you to swear on your own title as well." I say, "Swear that you will hold up your end of the deal." The Voice rumbles in an amused tone, "You already know my title in this world. Tyrant. The epithet Fate''s minions have labelled me with." I shake my head, "There are many tyrants in this world. I want a title that is uniquely yours, the same way I am the only Transmigrator. Show some sincerity. Stop playing games." The Voice laughs uproariously in delight, "Good. Good. No one has forced me to make such a concession before. Its truly wonderful to finally enter into an agreement between equals. So yes, I will swear on my title, my true title in this world. The words the natives use to refer to me and only me." The air suddenly becomes heavy as spiritual energy starts to swirl about chaotically. My hair begins to stand from the electric tension. The Voice grandly pronounces, "My name is lost, none may say it, not even me. But the natives had a word for me, a word they used only when they whispered my name in hushed voices. That word can be known but never said, for destiny will expunge any reference made to my identity." "Then what good is it?" I grumble. "Words can be concealed behind other words." The Voice continues, "Meanings within meanings. That is how my title still exists. It was borrowed by another in ignorance and I took the interloper''s title in exchange. But the true owner of a title can never be denied. Over time, the two meanings of the title merged into one. Mine." I suddenly sense butterflies in my stomach as an overwhelming sense of unease creeps over me. Something tells me that I have to get out of here, before The Voice tells me its secret. Its something I should not know. Something I must never know. "I am the Black Stallion," The Voice chuckles, "and it is by that title I will swear my oath to you." The Watchers That Watch I settle behind the table of my personal suite at the hotel, the once bustling environment now quiet. Things have taken a turn for the worse, Da is losing patience with me and Chance. Daffyd is making her look like a fool. I pull up the phone from its cradle and inform my staff to summon Chance immediately. Why did Daffyd had to make things so difficult for everybody? The answer to my unasked question is obviously clear, because its not Daffyd we are chasing after. New Daffyd prefers living a lie instead of facing the truth. Worry begins to build up in my heart. From what I understand, New Daffyd is not going to accept being cured and going back to his previous self. Chance says she has a plan to get round this, but after the last few days, I am having doubts about whether she can actually deliver. What a headache. "Chance, Da called me again yesterday," I inquire as Chance enters after respectfully knocking on the door, "Have you made any progress in tracking down Daffyd? Any at all?" The muscle head bows perfunctorily and adopts a conciliatory tone, never a good sign. "Tracking your brother is not the problem boss," she says, "its cornering him. Daffyd is as slippery as an eel." "Look at this." I snap and shove my mobile run into Chance''s face, "That''s a video of Daffyd flying across The City without trousers. Without trousers. He is probably the most well known man in The City right now. How haven''t you caught him yet?" "Look Boss, things really aren''t that simple." Chance tries to deflect but I quickly cut her off. "Da just chewed me out over the expense we''re racking up." I cut back, "Do you know how much it costs to keep so many of our men here? And all we have to show for it is a video of Daffyd gallivanting about without his pants on." "Sports Utility Vehicle." Chance replies incomprehensibly. "What?" I mutter as I begin to massage my glabella to release my rapidly growing irritation. "An SUV. That''s what Daffyd is using to avoid the men." Chance explains, "We can track your brother just fine boss, its pinning him down that''s the problem. He moves about too regularly for us to plan an ambush." "Daffyd has to return to one of his hideouts sooner or later." I waive Chance''s explanation off, "Why haven''t you just camped outside and grabbed him?" Chance reaches into the file carried by her side and draws out a report, presenting it to me. I take the piece of paper and begin scanning through it as Chance takes up the thread again. "That''s the problem Boss. Daffyd seems to have abandoned all his hideouts, at least the ones we know of." Chance says, "From what we can tell, your brother is shifting around random hotels in the various Districts with no real pattern. He sometimes shows up at gyms where he had purchased membership to use the bathroom and cafeteria." I frown as I continue perusing the report. There is a pattern to Daffyd''s movements, but Chance is too much of an idiot to see it. I feel like screaming at the top of my voice and strangling the muscle head for her incompetence. "We can''t just wait for Daffyd to show up at the hideouts boss." Chance concludes, unaware of the black spot of annoyance growing at the back of my head, "I have dispersed the men to comb The City for your brother. The problem is whenever we find him, he''s long gone by the time a team is assembled."Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. "Don''t bother." I snarl, "You''ll never catch Daffyd this way. Have you actually read the report?" "I don''t understand -" Chance begins but I silence her with a glare. "Of course you don''t." I huff, "Look. Daffyd always shows up at the location furthest away from the capture teams. What does that tell you?" Bewildered silence is all I get from the moron in front of me. "It means that Daffyd knows where the teams are!" I shout, my annoyance finally getting the better of me, "He can track where your men are and rests at places where we can''t get to him in time. You have spent all this time chasing your own tail!" Chance looks down, chastened by my outburst. I slump back into my seat and let out a sigh. "Da told me he''s withdrawing most of the men he lent us." I say resignedly, "I can''t justify the expense of keeping them here if all we have to show for it is a big fat nothing." Chance suddenly looks up with a strange expression on her face, "I have it boss. I know how to catch your brother. We wouldn''t need so many men even." Chance then takes out a series of photographs and hands them to me. Looking through the photos, I see that they all show a black SUV loitering about a hospital. I make a questioning sound in my throat. How is this supposed to help us catch Daffyd? "That''s the SUV Daffyd has been using." Chance excitedly gestures, "The men managed to spot it a few times hanging out near the hospital Tensei and Kira are being treated at. Daffyd bolted the moment we began to send a capture team there though." "So how does this knowledge help?" I question, "Daffyd still manages to escape." "Here''s the thing boss." Chance hands over another picture to me, this time a grainy, long distance shot of Daffyd leaving the hospital, "Your brother always goes back there the moment the coast is clear and the capture teams are far away. Its as if he wants to do something but can''t find a good opportunity." So. There is something that is drawing Daffyd to the hospital. And it can''t be Chance that''s preventing Daffyd from doing whatever he has got planned. Daffyd clearly knows how to evade that idiot. "What is Daffyd up to?" I mutter contemplatively. "I don''t know." Chance admits, "But I suspect it has something to do with Tensei. The von Amsterg family sent their House Guard to protect Tensei ever since he had been admitted. Tensei''s ward is the only place in the hospital that Daffyd would not have ready access to." "Its certainly possible." I concede, rubbing my chin. "Here''s the clincher." Chance points to the time stamps of the photos, "See when Daffyd shows up at the hospital? It matches the change in the guards'' shifts. But he quickly retreated. Something in the hospital must have scared him off." I begin tapping the table and say, "But Daffyd''s not scared enough to give up. He still loiters around outside the hospital waiting for his opportunity. Whatever it is that''s giving him problems, it can''t follow him outside. Or perhaps won''t or can''t pursue him." "Right." Chance confirms, "I was going about this whole thing the wrong way. We can''t corner Daffyd, but your brother himself will eventually come to us." "You still haven''t explained how to actually stop Daffyd from running." I point out, "Just camping outside Tensei''s ward is going to do us no good by itself." "Well, I don''t have a solution to that," Chance says as she scratches her head awkwardly, "but I personally think that''s a self-solving problem." "You see, Daffyd clearly needs to do something urgent." Chance continues, "Otherwise he wouldn''t keep hanging around like that despite the danger. Sooner or later he is going to have to take action regardless of the risk." "And then we will strike." I conclude. Good. The end is in sight at least. We just need to wait for Daffyd to lose his patience at the hospital and then we can wrap things up. I might have been a bit too hasty in labeling Chance an idiot. Those conclusions were surprisingly well put together. Totally unlike her usual airheadedness. "You certainly have your moments of insight." I remark. "Inspiration really." Chance clarifies, "It all just came to me like, wham! Just like that. One moment I was completely lost, a second later the whole puzzle made sense." If only you would act like this on a more regular basis. It would help immensely if I had an actual strategist instead of a grown woman obsessed with role play and refuses to grow up. I don''t say all this to Chance though. She might have her issues, but she is frighteningly powerful. I merely nod in thanks and gesture at her to proceed. "Leave it to me boss." Chance boasts happily, her mood having done a complete one eighty, "All this will be over soon." "And you and Daffyd can go back to Neo-Cardiff as one happy family." Love and Consequences "I don''t see why you''re so upset about your Uncle sending guards," Celeste says frostily to me without bothering to look up from the novel she''s reading, "You told me yourself that you had been kidnapped." I shift uncomfortably on the cool, clean sheets of the hospital bed and scowl at the pair of House Guards stationed in my private ward, resplendent in their maroon uniforms comprising of a double breasted jacket and slim cut trousers. A black arm band bearing the crest of the von Amsterg family announces their allegiance to the world. No weapons, but Uncle trains all his men to be equally proficient in fighting unarmed. The ward itself is a luxurious affair, large and well appointed a comfortable king sized bed, a wide screen TV and en suite bathroom. Honestly, its a really great set up, with the exception for the complete lack of privacy spoiling things. The duo look expressionlessly ahead in response to my annoyance. Just as I am about to reply to Celeste though, one of the guards, a young demon man with a pencil mustache and gold framed spectacles over his bird eyes speaks up. "Young master, we are both here to assist, and if necessary protect you." the guard says, "Combat is not our only vocation." "Yeah. Yeah." I grumble, "I lived at Uncle''s place for years. I know what you guys can do." This complaint gets Celeste''s attention and she quickly looks up from her book and regards the guards with curiosity. "What can you do anyway?" Celeste asks, an open and guileless expression on her face. The more senior of the pair, a broad shouldered demon with his long hair pulled back in an elegant ponytail and his goat horns fashionably embossed with swirling patterns answers Celeste. "We are the personal retainers of the von Amsterg family." the demon informs, "Our duties include preparing meals, cleaning the grounds as well as assisting our masters in their work and in a general capacity. Of course when the situation requires it, we fight to protect the honor and lives of the von Amstergs." "Butlers." Celeste gasps as her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, "Tensei actually has battle butlers." "Well, I don''t need them." I mutter while making a shooing gesture at the guards, "Go back to Berlin or wherever you came from. Your master commands it." "Unfortunately young master," the older guard calmly speaks, "the patriarch''s commands take precedence over yours. And he was very clear that we are to stay here and assist you." His younger colleague follows up smoothly, "This arrangement is not a mere whim of the patriarch, young master. Your medical condition requires it." "What? Why?" I complain, "I feel completely fine." A lie. Even now, I feel a dull emptiness in my chest, as if a sink hole had opened up within me and is gradually devouring my strength. It shouldn''t be too serious though, right? Its not as if I have been put into intensive care or anything. I fight back the encroaching panic and plaster a strained smile on my face. The older guard, unaware of my internal struggle, merely gives Celeste a significant look. "Its fine. She''s a friend." I dismiss the guard''s concerns. The guard nods and explains, "Young master''s injuries are not serious, that is true. However, the doctors have concluded that the stress of the past few days has caused damage to your spirit core. It will probably recover in due course, but young master cannot strain himself, otherwise it will jeopardize the healing process."If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I breathe out a sigh of relief. So nothing serious after all. I should be back at one hundred percent after a few days of taking it easy. "Well, its creepy having two guys watching over me all the time." I say, "Go outside and hang out with your buddies." Uncle had really gone overboard, posting a pair of guards not just at the entrance of the ward, but also within the ward itself. I did not have a single private moment to myself. What''s really starting to annoy me is that I can''t have a frank conversation with Celeste while these two are hanging around. And I really need to get that conversation going. Celeste has been acting weird ever since she got here a few days ago. Acting all cold and unhappy with me, as if I had done her wrong somehow. But she nevertheless stayed by my side this whole time, only occasionally leaving the ward to eat or freshen up. I don''t think she even goes home. Once I woke up in the middle of the night and found Celeste sharing my bed, cuddling up against me affectionately. Oh yeah, and those two guards looking on impassively. Talk about creepy. That''s not how someone acts when they''re upset. Yet its also clear as day that Celeste is mad at me. She''s cold and aloof, and doesn''t bother explaining why she''s sticking around and not bothering to go home, other than saying that Uncle has approved. The guards don''t contradict her claim either. If anything, from the expression on their faces, they seem to pity her. Something has obviously happened, but no one wants to tell me anything. What''s even weirder is that no one other than Celeste has visited me so far. Celeste told me that Kira has been hospitalized as well, so that''s one of my friends accounted for, but what happened to the rest? Its as if everyone had dropped off the face of the earth. The urge to just have my questions answered is growing intolerable. Dammit, I''ll just shoot my mouth off and deal with the consequences later. "What''s wrong?" I ask Celeste directly. "Nothing." Celeste sulks and buries her head back in her novel, ignoring me. "Young miss," the younger of the duo says gently, "he will find out eventually. Better to tell him now." The senior guard doesn''t say anything, but merely graces Celeste with a pitying look. "Tensei knows what he did." Celeste harrumphs and gets up from her chair as she begins pacing about the room, eventually stopping in front of the drawn curtains of the room''s only window. "I don''t understand." I protest. "I''ll be blunt young master." the senior guard reprimands, "We are here because the patriarch does not want history repeating." My mind goes completely blank. What in the world is everyone talking about? "We understand your feelings young miss," the younger guard says to Celeste compassionately before scowling at me, "but you know the young master''s circumstances as well as we do." Someone tell me what''s going on. Anybody. "The circumstances of your birth, young master." the senior guard continues, "For the sake of the von Amstergs, we cannot have a repeat performance. A clear legitimate heir must be established." There is a knock on the door and a fresh pair of guards walk in. The duo give the incoming guards a grateful look and leave the ward without saying anything further. I feel their contempt for me radiate as they walk past my bed and leave with the end of their shift. Just before the door closes, I see the flash of an ugly trench coat disappearing around a corner. I try getting up from the bed to investigate, but the fresh set of guards gently push me back down. I turn to Celeste who has a morose expression on her face, clearly unconcerned with whatever may have been going on outside. "Your Uncle said that as long as the matter is settled," Celeste murmurs, disappointment in me dripping from her voice, "you can have as many mistresses as you want. So don''t worry about Sera and Kira." Cold sweat flows down my back. Celeste knows. The guards know. That means Uncle knows as well. I feel the walls closing in. "When ORPO picked you up," Celeste snorts, "an officer took lots of pictures of you and Kira. Its all over the tabloids." When did that happen? I begin to panic. How am I going to explain this to everyone? "Th ... That''s ..." I stutter incoherently, but Celeste just regards me with a sad smile on her face. "I thought things would be different you know? I really did." she says regretfully, "But you still can do the right thing Tensei. You can still be the man I believed in at the Academy." "Right thing?" I repeat dumbly, my mind completely scrambled. "Tensei." Celeste looks me straight in the eye. "Irene is pregnant." Betrayal of the Heart I quickly scan through the newspaper I filched from the hospital receptionist''s desk and the headline blares at me in big, bold print. "Teen Idol and Secret Lover discovered together! Passionate Rendezvous In The Woods! Pictures Inside!" Whoo, the Hero and the Idol are already making headlines. They fight right out of captivity and straight on to the front page. Is this what people in show biz call the X Factor? Come to think of it, this is probably why there''s a huge crowd of sketchy looking dudes hanging outside the hospital at this very moment. I open the newspaper, more like a tabloid actually, and begin reading the article itself. The paper claims that the news is a double page super exclusive spread, but when I actually start reading, it turns out that the article is a tiny paragraph with the barest of details. The unidentified teen idol, who going by the incredibly specific description, can only be the Idol, had been caught in the woods with her lover, a young man from an equally unidentified noble family. Of course, while the paper did not actually mention the Hero''s name, it had stated that he was the Idol''s "schoolmate" for inquisitive readers to play a round of guess. Oh, for added fun, the writer plastered the emblem of the von Amsterg family across the page for no reason whatsoever. The rest of the space was taken up by a series of, thankfully censored, photos which show an ORPO squad leading out a pair of naked teens from the Heath. A handful of photos also show the pair of figures hidden by mosaic and humping in the dirt. Not X Factor, but XXX Factor. The writer then provides a helpful addendum where he informs the readers that despite ORPO''s most gallant efforts, the officers were not able to find the Idol and her lover''s clothes, resulting in the unfortunate loss of dignity for the pair. But what''s this in the postscript? Further analysis eh? Might as well see what the pundits are saying about the matter. Turning the page, I am disappointed once again by the fact that instead of an actual expert, the tabloid had chosen to consult an allegedly renowned "sexologist", whatever that is, on his thoughts on the whole matter. The "sexologist", I can''t believe that''s a legit word, claims as part of his credentials to be an "expert on the art of love, encompassing all three worlds" and has provided a helpful analysis of the pair''s moral character after a thorough analysis of the unexpurgated photos provided to him. I roll my eyes as the sexologist launches into a discussion of the Hero''s dick size, proportion and, uh, texture. Apparently these factors "prove" that the Hero is a sensitive lover who has a lack of confidence in himself. He is allegedly a man that has to be nurtured by his lover and requires the attention of an equally genuine companion. Uh, OK, whatever you say man. As far as the Idol goes, the sexologist in his professional opinion declares that she was completely lost in her own head while she was mindlessly grinding against our sensitive prince. The Idol had "a dangerously glazed expression" on her face and was "looking not at her lover, but at something else entirely". Wow, this analyst is good. There might be something to sexology as a field of research after all. My thoughts are interrupted by the receptionist snatching the paper back from me. She neatly folds the paper and places it back on to the counter with a fastidious huff. "For visitors only." she informs. "I''m a visitor!" I protest. Well I''m actually here to abduct the Hero, but its technically true anyway. "Actual visitors." the receptionist rolls her eyes, "Not vultures like you. There''s no point in you hanging around here anyway, the ward is guarded twenty four hours both inside and outside." "What are you talking about?" I ask, my hand stealthily reaching for the revolver hidden under the trench coat. My cover''s broken already? Damn, that''s fast. I might need to shoot my way out of here.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The receptionist''s eyes zoom in on my hand disappearing into the coat. "That''s not going to work." she dismissively says. "Oh?" I calmly respond, my hand gripping the gun. "Doesn''t matter if you bribe me." the nurse explains, "I can''t get you in. No nurse or doctor can either. The guards around that boy never leave." Oh. I was really close to overreacting there. I release my grip over the revolver and lean against the reception desk. The receptionist continues, oblivious to how close she was to being shot just now, "Paparazzi like you are all the same, trying to drag people''s names in the mud for a bit of cash. You got a real reason to be here?" "I''m not a paparazzi." I shoot back. Its the truth, you know. "Says the man who has been scoping out the guarded private ward the last few days." the receptionist rolls her eyes, "Stop disturbing the actual patients and get out of here." What? She shouldn''t have recognized me at all. How did she do it? The receptionist notices my confusion and gives a triumphant grin, "Surprised? I don''t know who you are, but I recognized the car you drive. Black SUV right? You can blend in real well, I''ll admit. But once I started paying attention to your car, actually keeping track of you was easy." So that''s how she did it. Never thought the mobile hobo base would be my undoing. I give a defeated sigh and leave the hospital without another word. As I step out into the dusk, a commotion begins to build from the pack of dudes hanging around the entrance. The men begin dumping assorted crap into a massive pile and one of the guys retrieves a jerry can from his car. Squinting, I observe that the pile of crap is made out of CDs, posters and various other pop star merchandise starring who else but the Idol. What''s amazing is the sheer amount of assorted garbage some of these guys are dumping. A young man is despondently emptying several trash bags filled with CDs into the rapidly growing pile. That guy must own hundreds, no probably thousands of the Idol''s CDs. In fact he looks kind of familiar. "Is that who I think it is?" I ask The Voice for confirmation. "Yes." The Voice confirms, "Mr Ken Matsui is experiencing a particularly dark night of the soul. The news report you were reading just now has shaken him considerably." The pungent smell of kerosene fills the air as the guy with the jerry can begins liberally soaking the garbage pile before setting it alight. The crowd then begins shouting denunciations while passing a bull horn about. "False idol! Shave off your hair!" some rando bleats into the bull horn to roars of approval from his comrades. "If they wanted someone to worship," The Voice grumbles, "they should be looking at the master, not the tool." "There, there." I console while holding back laughter. Yeah, it must suck when people pay more attention to your creation then you. My eyes then turn to Delinquent, who stands morosely at the edge of the crowd. "Why is Delinquent out here?" I ask, "Shouldn''t he be inside with the Hero?" The Voice quickly answers, probably glad to cover its lapse in composure, "The news that the Hero and Heroine Majima have been engaging in sexual intercourse has opened up a rift in Mr Matsui''s relationship with the Hero. The thought of the Hero sullying the object of his worship proved too much to bear." "What?" I exclaim in surprise, "I thought that the Hero and Delinquent were best bros. Delinquent even fought by the Hero''s side." "An unreal friendship forged through our manipulations." The Voice dismisses, "The Hero and Mr Matsui were never going to remain friends for long. Mr Matsui is prideful you see, and the Hero''s growing power has shown our delinquent his true place in the world. The mind knows, but the heart cannot accept." "Yeah. That''s true I suppose." I agree. Delinquent was meant to be a sort of friendly rival to the Hero, the conflict between them acting as a spur for the Hero''s growth. Unfortunately, the Hero has outgrown Delinquent, leaving our gangster scion in the dust. Useless as both an ally and an enemy, Delinquent has been left to his own devices by both The Voice and Fate, allowing the man to find his own place in the world. And that place is standing in a crowd of sweaty guys shouting about "whores" and "betrayal". Its scary how low someone can sink. And I get the feeling that Delinquent still has a lot more sinking to do. "Its time to go." The Voice suddenly says. "We still need to discuss the problem in the hospital." I respond while walking to the parking area. "We can do that on the move." The Voice rasps, "I doubt we can accomplish much more here anyway." "Gallant''s sister dearest and her henchwoman are sallying forth once again?" I snort while getting into the SUV. "Making the usual nuisance of themselves." The Voice confirms as the SUV starts up and drives off into the scanty traffic, "But like you said, there''s a bigger problem we need to discuss." "Transmigrator, I cannot perceive the Hero. At all." Consequences and Outcomes "What do you mean you can''t perceive the Hero?" I ask, "Its obvious that he''s in the hospital. The receptionist all but admitted it." The Voice remains silent as the SUV overtakes a bus and makes it meandering way through the streets of The City. After some consideration, The Voice finally rasps, "I know for a fact that the Hero is in the hospital. That issue is not in dispute. The problem is that my connection with him has been tampered with." The laptop begins booting to life again and I place it on my lap to see whatever The Voice intends to show me. The laptop proceeds to display the status screen of the Hero, but there''s something very wrong with it. All the bars representing the Hero''s stats have been replaced with lines of constantly changing junk data. More disturbing is the fact that the entire paragraph representing the Hero''s objectives has been grayed out. Right at the bottom of the paragraph in cool blue letters is a short sentence, "Updating In Progress" that is flanked by the image of an hourglass running down. As the digital sand of the virtual hourglass continues flowing downwards, bright red letters slash across the screen, screaming "ERROR ABORT". The hourglass then resets its progress and the update begins from scratch again, until its aborted once more. This fruitless to and fro continues without an end in sight. "Fate''s doing?" I query. "Most likely." The Voice confirms, "A ham handed attempt at altering the Hero''s directives. Unfortunately for Fate, my instructions have been baked into the Hero''s body. No matter how much it manipulates the Hero''s soul, his body will summarily dismiss any instructions that clash with the existing mission." "Hey, when the guards changed shifts, I managed to peek into the ward the Hero is in." I say after some thought. "What did you see?" The Voice rumbles as it drives on through the traffic. I frown while replying, "Red thread. It was all over the ward. The whole place looked like a giant spider had taken up residence there. That can only mean one thing." "An Incarnate." The Voice grimly agrees, "Almost certainly the servant, since Prince Enma is accounted for and Castiel has no doubt been reborn in the body of an infant." "Damn. That makes abducting the Hero doubly difficult." I remark, "Is there no other way for you to shut down the termination protocol?" "I need physical access to the Hero," The Voice explains, "and I need to cut his soul off from Fate''s interference while I perform the operation. So we have few options available to us, Transmigrator." "I could go in guns blazing?" I offer, "The servant is using manipulation rather than just murdering the Hero. My guess is that this Incarnate''s combat strength is poor." The Voice says unhappily, "If only it was so simple. You forget, this Incarnate is capable of disrupting my link with the Hero." "And?" I dumbly shoot back, "I go in, kick the Incarnate''s ass and bring the Hero in for a spot of maintenance. Job done." "If the servant can affect my connection to the Hero, it is likely that he can do the same to you." The Voice wearily says, "How long do you think you will last without access to the artificial core?" Crap. I scrunch my eyebrows in consternation. If the servant is weak at combat, I could just be able to rush in and blow the Incarnate away with the revolver or grenade launcher. But the Hero is never alone. There are always a pair of guards with him in the ward and another pair loitering just outside. Fighting all five at once with no powers would be a suicide mission. A sudden thought comes to me. "You said Big Tits suddenly disappeared despite the fact you were keeping an eye on her." I question, "Could she have been intercepted by the servant while roaming about The City?" "Possible, but to what end?" The Voice wonders, "Although I lost track of Inspector Scott, she has turned up safe and sound at the von Amsterg manor. Both the Inspector and Heroine Naiberg have acquired shelter and protection there." "Yeah, I would have thought Big Tits would be in more dire circumstances if an Incarnate caught her." I grunt, "Still, the Incarnate has to leave the Hero''s side sooner or later."If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Do not get your hopes up Transmigrator." The Voice rebuts, "I have lost effective contact with the Hero for several days already, and I doubt -" The Voice''s words are cut off with a harsh hiss and the laptop begins squawking in protest. I look back down at the laptop''s screen and my stomach sinks at the sight before me. The Hero''s status display tells me all I need to know. UPDATE ABORTED ADDING SECONDARY OBJECTIVE PERFORMING CONFLICT CHECK ... CONFLICT CHECK PASSED INSTALLING SECONDARY OBJECTIVE PACKAGE ... PLEASE WAIT ... ABORTING ... ABORT CANCELLED PRIVILEGED ACCESS REQUIRED ... "I cannot stop it!" The Voice shouts in frustration, "I have been locked out of my own creation!" "Will you just relax?" I grumble after a few moments of thought, "Whatever it is, the Hero is still going to get his harem pregnant right? And he''s still going to claim his inheritance. There''s nothing Fate can do to override the existing objectives." "Yes, you are right." The Voice agrees after calming down, "As long as the Hero completes his mission, there is nothing Fate can do." .... "Irene Scott." the old demon states flatly. A simple declaration, no more, no less. "Master von Amsterg, a pleasure." I give a bow and Tensei''s uncle gestures to an empty seat before his desk. A uniformed butler steps into the private study buried deep within the depths of the manor, bearing a tray loaded with tea and pastries. As the butler sets out the refreshments, I note that he pointedly does not provide me with either a plate or a teacup. "The proper form of address is ''Your Grace.''" the butler murmurs disapprovingly before standing deferentially behind Tensei''s uncle. Gustav merely raises his hand to quieten down the butler and keeps gazing at me expressionlessly with his flinty eyes. Minutes pass with neither of us saying a word. The silent treatment in other words. I learned about this during my time with SOPO. Its a soft interrogation technique, meant to put pressure on suspects and make them more inclined to start talking. Now that I am on the receiving end, I don''t know whether or not its a good sign or a bad one. Gustav giving me the silent treatment shows that he at the very least, does not like me. But if he''s showing his displeasure through a relatively mild form of coercion, that also means he''s not inclined to treat me too harshly. I keep my expression carefully neutral and submissively lower my eyes. I need to tread carefully from here onward. Gustav''s composure wavers slightly and he begins to chew on his lip, contemplating something. There''s a slight flicker of doubt in his eyes which quickly vanishes and his expression regains its former steely resolve. He begins speaking to me without preamble. "I do not approve of your liaison with Tensei." Gustav pronounces. I lower my face as the musty smell of the old books scattered around the study begins to invade my nose. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but I hold my retort in. The one thing I am grateful for is the study''s heavy door and drawn curtains preventing anyone from spying on us. Gustav thankfully has decided to humiliate me in private. I hate it, being forced to accept whatever he dishes out, but I have no leverage or standing here in the manor. I am nothing. "When you and your friend first came here, I thought this was an attempt at extortion," Gustav continues, "that you were taking advantage of Tensei to secure benefits from my House. I initially intended to have your baby done away with and to throw both of you out after that." I instinctively grip my stomach at Gustav''s almost offhand admission. But a ray of hope is opening up regardless. Gustav admitted he no longer intends to do that. Things might not be so bad after all. Gustav snorts with laughter at my reaction, "Thank your friend. She never gave up on trying to persuade me to let you off. I never thought that one day I would be swayed by the words from a mere slip of a girl." Celeste did it. She actually managed to persuade Tensei''s uncle. I don''t know how she managed it, but she had just worked a miracle and probably saved my child''s life. Gustav continues with his speech, "Then there''s the issue of Tensei''s friends. He takes after his father more than I expected. If I drove you away, the same problem would keep repeating, just with some other woman. Do you know the circumstances of Tensei''s birth?" I nod. Tensei''s background was provided to me when I accepted the assignment to keep watch over him. Gustav grunts in approval, "Then you know what is going to happen to you. I cannot let you go free, not when you carry the blood of the von Amstergs. Like Tensei''s mother, you will be detained, probably for life." I almost jump to my feet in outrage but the butler gives an urbane cough and a wave of spirituality hits me. I spend a moment considering whether I can defeat Gustav and his butler, but quickly slump back into the chair. Fighting now would be pointless, there are plenty more butlers lurking around the manor. Gustav smiles politely at my realization of how powerless I am. "Don''t panic." Gustav consoles, "I intend to do right by you regardless of how you took advantage of Tensei''s lack of circumspection. While I will merely tolerate your presence, your child will be a full member of the House." I look up hopefully. At least the baby will have a future. Anything I go through will be worth it if Gustav is being sincere. "You will marry Tensei." Gustav says with distaste, "And the child will be recognized as Tensei''s legitimate issue." I whisper nervously, "And the others? Sera? Kira?" "Mistresses." Gustav dismisses, "Tensei is free to do what he wants with them, but they will receive nothing from the House." Tears run down my face as relief and elation flood my body. My child has a future. A bright one, as a member of one of the greatest noble families in the world. Celeste, thank you. In Sight and Unseen Once again, the SUV comes to a stop at the hospital''s parking lot and I disembark. Making my way to the vehicle''s rear, I pop the boot open and retrieve the heavy liquefied oxygen canister stored within along with a length of rubber hose. I know I must probably look suspicious as fuck right now, but the hospital isn''t a high security area, at least everywhere other than the ward the Hero is in. Carrying an oxygen canister is not sufficient cause for anyone to stop me, I hope. More importantly, both The Voice and I are running out of time. We need to retrieve the Hero and do a system reset, fast. "You''re sure this will work?" I whisper as I make my way around the side of the building. The Voice rasps, "Yes. The canister is loaded with the same toxin cocktail we used in the sarcophagus. Strong enough to kill Fate''s minions, but not the Hero. We pump the block the Hero is housed in full of toxin to clear the opposition out. Then you move in to retrieve him. You brought the gas mask?" "Yeah. Its under the trench coat." I confirm as I shoulder the canister more comfortably, "Not bothering with collateral damage huh? Overkill for dealing with just five guys." "Who cares about that now?" The Voice answers irritably, "If you have not noticed it yet, the well-being of an entire civilization is at stake. Keep your mind on the larger issues at stake." "Those larger issues include your own well-being?" I snark back. I know I shouldn''t do it, but the opportunity is just irresistible. "Yes." The Voice brazenly fires back, "It also includes your reward. Now get to it. We do not have much time." I think back to the laptop sitting in the SUV and the message the Hero''s status screen displayed last night just before I went to bed. The message that changed everything. SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: MARRY IRENE SCOTT The Voiced continues grumbling in a highly agitated tone, "Inspector Scott will ruin everything for us Transmigrator. Communications intercepted from the von Amsterg manor indicate that she has secured a guarantee from Gustav that only the Hero''s children with her will be regarded as legitimate. If this marriage goes ahead, what happens during the duel will no longer matter. The civil war over the von Amsterg territory will not occur and the world will be doomed." "I already told you the solution to the problem." I reply tiredly as I cut through a busy orthopedic footpath, "I break into the manor and punch Big Tits hard in the stomach. Problem solved, and I don''t need to risk a fight with an incarnate." The Voice rasps unhappily, "Turning the fetus currently in Inspector Scott''s womb into bloody pulp is not a long term solution. The Hero is now determined to go through with this marriage, and his potency all but guarantees that Inspector Scott will get pregnant again." I am about to make a joke about castrating the Hero as well, but then remember that the Hero has yet to impregnate Brocon, the last Heroine. The Voice and I still need the Hero''s dick and balls functioning at full capacity. What a bother. "You sure the toxin can take out the Incarnate as well?" I ask while scoping out the building''s exterior for s suitable vent. "Probably." says The Voice, "If you are correct about the servant being weak at direct combat." Probably? I know did make such an assessment, but now that my safety''s on the line, I really feel like backing out of it. This whole mission is very badly rushed anyway. The Voice roused me from my sleep in the morning and we rushed to the hospital straight away. I would feel better about the whole affair if there was a bit more time to prepare. Unfortunately, time was a resource we did not have. The Voice told me that Gustav''s staff had contacted the wedding planner already and were very obviously rushing the marriage. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I narrow my eyes as I notice a young couple walking towards me from behind. The lady labors underneath the burden of her swollen belly while the man pats it affectionately. I spotted them at the orthopedic footpath, but what business would a pregnant woman have at the side of the building? "You told me that Siobahn''s people are lurking nearby?" I ask The Voice urgently. "Yes." The Voice confirms, "They are closing in on you as we speak. Eliminate the scouts and proceed with the mission." I nod and continue leisurely surveying the building as the couple draws closer. I am leery about starting a fight in broad daylight while in a public area, but I can''t set up the toxin canister with these two harassing me. Once I take Siobahn''s muscle out, I''ll be on a very tight time limit before the rest of their compatriots show up. Hustle will be the name of the game. I shift the canister down from my shoulder into a two handed grip and activate the artificial core. Turning to face the couple, I see alarm and surprise all over their faces. That''s right. You''ve been made. The man releases his affectionate hold over his "wife" and reaches into his coat for a knife, if what matter sense''s telling me is correct. Before he can finish drawing the weapon, I swing the canister hard into his face. The makeshift weapon makes a meaty thud on impact, as blood and teeth are sent flying. As the man collapses on the ground unconscious, his "wife" rips open the bulge on her belly, revealing a large pouch carrying a sawed off pump action shotgun in a sling. In one smooth, practiced motion, the woman scoops up the weapon with one hand and levels the barrel at my face. "Not bad." the woman says, "But I''ve got dragon''s breath shells loaded in the gun, so don''t bother with physical reinforcement." I roll my eyes and the woman''s brows knit together in annoyance as she prods my forehead with the gun. "Move." she says, "You''re going home." That confirms it. These flatfoots were sent by Siobahn. I snort as my right hand snaps out like a striking cobra and wraps around the woman''s wrist. Before she can react, a quick twist of my hand shatters the wrist, sending the shotgun tumbling free. A hard pull from my arm sends the woman jerking towards me as I drive my head downwards in a headbutt. I feel the my opponent''s nose break as warm blood splatters over my forehead. The woman falls to her knees, holding her face and groaning incoherently. Not giving her a chance to recover, I grab the shotgun by the barrel and lift it above my head like a hammer. With a single swing, the gun''s butt crashes into the woman''s head like a sledgehammer, and I feel her skull fracture underneath the skin. As muscle number two slumps to the ground down for the count, I hear distant cries of alarm. "Hurry." The Voice rasps, "Siobahn''s men are -" A harsh blast of static cuts whatever The Voice is saying off. "Hello?" I query as I tap the earpiece, "Can''t hear what you said just now." But all I get is the non-stop crackle of static. A sudden wave of sickness sweeps over me, causing my stomach to do somersaults. I repress the urge to puke as the sky begins to turn an ominous red. Impossible. I can still see people at the orthopedic footpath gawking at me. Why isn''t anyone else freaking out at the sight of the sky going all trippy? Unless I am the only one that can see it? Is that the reason? As I am trying to swallow my bile, red threads begin to extend from the hospital building like an out of control weed. The thread swallows me and the unaware crowd, subsuming the entire hospital grounds. Weakness overwhelms me as my muscles scream out in protest all of a sudden from the strain of carrying the heavy canister. The crackling static from the earpiece ceases, leaving behind only silence. I let the canister fall from my tired left arm. Its so heavy that my arm almost popped out from the socket thanks to the strain. That only means one thing. The artificial core is shutting down. I''ve lost my powers. I need to retreat. Now. I abandon the canister and the length of hose and walk as quickly as I can back to the SUV. Panic begins to build as a stray thought enters my mind. What if the SUV has been affected by the Incarnate as well? Would I need to drive it by myself? Never mind about that now. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Almost there. I''m close to the parking area. I''m going to make it. But a figure steps out from between the parked cars. Chance. Lost and Found "End of the road Daffyd. Or whomever you really are." Chance says as she begins stalking towards me after giving her knuckles a good crack. This is bad, without my powers Chance will completely wreck me without breaking a sweat. Could I make a dash for the SUV and escape? The red thread that had extended from the hospital building has by now erected a cocoon over the entire grounds, cutting off right at the edge of the public road. That must be the limit of how far the Incarnate can extend his influence. The red thread also seems to ignore physical reality, no clipping through walls and vehicles in order to set up its barrier. Makes sense, given the fact that the red thread does not actually have any actual physical presence. Unfortunately, its ability to cut me off from The Voice''s power is all too real. Could the SUV even function while its caught within the Incarnate''s anti-Voice field? Taking a glance at the vehicle, I notice that the red thread has failed to no-clip through it, instead opting to wrap itself securely around the car''s exterior. The SUV looks as if it has been caught in a large spiderweb. So that''s how it is. The Voice had told me that the SUV is a mobile place of power. The Incarnate can''t actually exercise any influence over it, but has instead severed the SUV from its surroundings, preventing The Voice from relaying instructions to the vehicle. But on the other hand, if I can manage to actually get into the SUV, I should be able to reactivate the artificial core in the place of power. I perform a quick shuffle to the side and angle myself at the SUV, hoping for a chance to make a break for it. Chance matches my movements calmly and interposes herself between me and the car. Clicking my tongue in annoyance I level the shotgun at Chance in an attempt at intimidation. From the look on her face, I can tell that she is distinctly unimpressed. "There''s dragon''s breath loaded." I say while pointing the gun at her, "Move aside." Chance''s composure breaks and she puts a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter, "Really? You''re using an incendiary weapon to threaten the Master of the Fire of Perdition? Really?" Dammit. "You''re way more pathetic than I thought." Chance sniggers, "Why aren''t you throwing down Gallant? Scared your body will start leaking blood again?" I bite back my retort about Chance tag teaming me with another Incarnate. There wouldn''t be much point since their coordination is most likely directed by Fate on an unconscious level. More importantly, the time I waste arguing with Chance can be better used to engineer my escape. The longer I stay, the more dangerous this situation becomes. I begin backing up slowly and casting about for an escape route. My hopes are dashed when I see a large crowd of men and women gathering right behind me despite the fact that everyone normal is keeping their distance from the violent man carrying a shotgun. The rest of Siobahn''s muscle are here and they have cut off my retreat. Shit. Should I just surrender and save myself a beating? That''s right. How could I forget such an obvious thing? "You''re full of talk." I sneer back at Chance, "You are not going to hurt me." "Oh?" Chance grunts as she tilts her neck to the left and right, very aggressively working out the kinks, "I still owe you for what happened at the lab." "My sister told you to pick me up right?" I smile, "That''s your mission, not beating me up." As Chance scowls as my response, I catch a familiar sight from the corner of my eye. The black cab is parked just outside the hospital. The Voice must have summoned it the moment we got cut off. Alright, I need to make my way outside and extract. As long as Chance sticks to flapping her gums and intimidation, I should be able to drag things out long enough to accomplish that. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. "Don''t call Siobahn your sister." Chance snaps angrily, "We both know that you''re not her brother." I begin walking away from the SUV and gradually drifting towards the main road, my eyes all the while locked on Chance. Chance matches pace with me but doesn''t seem inclined to take any actual action. "Doesn''t change your mission though." I remark as I keep my feet moving. "No it doesn''t." Chance admits, "But as far as my mission goes, why can''t it be both?" My mind goes blank. What are you talking about? Chance explodes into motion, closing the distance between us in a blink of an eye. Without the powers, I have no way of matching that speed. Her fist slams hard in my gut and I am sent sailing backwards, landing on the ground hard as blood begins to pool in my mouth. "Huh. You haven''t recovered from your previous escapade?" Chance remarks with surprise. "Oog." I groan as blood begins to seep out of my mouth. I seem to have lost feeling to my entire lower body. Did Chance sever my spine in a single blow? I roll on to my belly and keep crawling towards the main road. If there''s a silver lining to getting my insides turned to mush, its that Chance has reduced the distance between me and the black cab. I hope The Voice can fix the damage to the body. It''d better. The body''s a loaner after all. "My mission Daffyd," Chance continues nonchalantly, "is to both bring you home and beat you up. So its really no issue either way. Keeping crawling though. Its funny." Laugh it up asshole. Once I get past the servant''s field, we''re going to have a reckoning. Just keep talking and let me keep crawling away. My head suddenly burns with pain as Chance grabs me by the hair and forcefully yanks me up. She then turns me around to face her and looks at me squarely in the eyes. "You''re going to tell me your name. Your real name." Chance hisses, "And your title. Then I''m bringing Daffyd home. Got it?" "What''re are you talking about?" I mutter hoarsely. Chance punches me in the gut again and I throw up a glut of blood on her. She wrinkles her nose in disgust before continuing. "Don''t play dumb." she snorts, "I know that you entered into a pact with Daffyd. But I can command you to break it if I have your true name and title. So out with it before I get nasty." A sharp pain in my head causes tears to well up in my eyes. I steady myself and shoot back, "Keep knocking me about and Siobahn''s brother dies. You want that?" Chance rolls her eyes at me as she smirks, "I told you already, stop playing dumb. You want to risk dying together with your host? Now out with it." In the background, Siobahn''s muscle begin moving closer, some of them carrying shackles and lengths of rope. Shit. Do they intend to drag me off to some dungeon if I don''t cooperate? I desperately stare at the cab, hoping that The Voice will take action, but the cab just sits there, completely unaware of what is going on. "Time''s almost up." Chance says as she tightens her grip on me, "Someone wants to do things the hard way." "I ... I ..." my voice comes out in gasps as I desperately try to get Chance''s attention. "Yes?" she asks as she leans closer. "I like it hard!" I growl as I plant the shotgun''s barrel to her chin and pull the trigger. A lance of purple flame swallows Chance''s head and she shrieks like a banshee. But before her grip on me breaks, she flails furiously about, her fist slamming into my head with a vicious backhand. I feel bones break and a warm, wet sensation builds just beneath my skin. Red gradually begins to clot across my eyes as I am sent flying once more through the air. I hear horns blare and cars skidding to a stop. Right into the main road? I think so at least. The only thing I can see is red. "Oh shit!" the muscle exclaims in the background, "The young master!" "Calm down!" I hear Chance snap at her underlings. I hear her footsteps stomping towards me and strong hands lift me up, far more gently this time. "He''s still breathing!" Chance yells from next to me, "We can take him back!" I feel the untrustworthy warmth of the core begin to build again, liquid fire flowing into the cracks and wounds of my body. A bright light begins to wash away the redness that has bricked away my sight. I feel like a feather, as if I am floating away into the sky. Drifting off into the distance. As the buzzing in my head lulls me off to sleep. My body begins to mend as my power returns. But that''s impossible. I never learnt how to heal myself. I never needed to. The buzzing builds, growing and growing. Its all I can think about now. Of course I learned how to heal myself. Oh, how I learned. But Siobahn knows that already, doesn''t she? "Let''s go home Daffyd." I feel Prince Enma begin dragging me away. And for the first time in a long while, I see through my own eyes once again. Never. I will never leave with Enma. Just as I will never agree to going back to being a nobody in Neo-Cardiff. I extend an index finger into Enma''s side, and like a lover lean towards him just as I whisper in his ear. "Finger of the Mountain." Exhibition Match Power thrums through my index finger as it stabs towards Enma''s ribs. But my opponent twists aside easily and catches my hand with his own. An unstoppable pressure closes in on the bones of my hand as Enma''s grip tightens. I try to extract myself, but Enma flares his core, matching my strength. Rage builds within me at how easily I had been tricked. Enma was prepared for the Finger of the Mountain and had been waiting for me to use it. I had drawn from the same well one too many times and got caught out for my complacency. Enma tries to break my wrist by twisting hard, but I call on more of the Stallion''s power, sending pure magic coursing through my entire body. My bones grow harder than iron as Enma snarls with displeasure at the futility of his efforts. Heat haze begins to build up around us from the sheer volume of spirituality that is being expended. The traffic begins to pile up around us as passing cars slow to take in the sight of the duel. "You''re leaving with me!" Enma shouts as he raises his other hand, green flames erupting in his palm. The Fire of Perdition. An irresistible attack, striking down the enemies of the Princess. A technique worthy of legend. Not even the Stallion''s protection can fully shield me from Enma''s wrath. But I am far from helpless. "Rebuke!" I shout and a spreading golden aura bursts into existence around me, scourging Enma''s skin and causing hives and blisters to erupt all over his body. A demon through and through, Enma remains vulnerable to the sacraments of the Heavenly Host, no matter how powerful he has become. A tree may grow tall, but it can never leave behind its roots. And with the Stallion backing my magic, even the meanest of sacraments possess frightening power. The Prince sputters angrily as he releases his grip on my hand and staggers backwards, scratching forcefully at the hives that now cover his face. Blood begins gushing from shallow wounds, the result of the violence Enma has inflicted on his own skin. My opponent begins to cycle his spirit core and flood his body with spiritual energy, suppressing the power of the sacrament I had laid on him. As the hives on Enma''s face begin to subside, the expression on his face shifts from anger to one of surprise. "Your eyes. The person behind them is different." Enma whispers, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water, "Who are you really?" "Your enemy, Prince Enma." I declare with a hard look on my face, "This world belongs to the True Emperor, and no amount of struggling on your part can change that fact." "Don''t you dare say that name!" Enma blares, "My ancestor defeated the Emperor! Drove away the darkness! Are you looking down on me?" I snort disdainfully at the Prince warbling like an empty vessel. Pretend all you want. It doesn''t change who you are, no matter the name you bear or the persona you hide behind. Of all people, I should know. "You lost then." I shrug as my body tenses for action, "And you''ll lose now." I speak calmly, but my mind races. My opponent here is not just Enma, but his comrade the servant as well. With no magic of my own, I am vulnerable to the servant severing my connection with the Stallion. I must breakthrough this ambush quickly before the servant elects to leave his place at the hospital and directly join the fight. Enma roars incoherently as the Fire of Perdition gathers in his hands once more. An explosion of raw pressure blasts outwards from his body, sending cracks bursting across the asphalt. I manage to steady myself in the face of this display of strength, but for many others, the pressure is insurmountable. Bystanders are bowled to the ground and lie there cowering feebly. A quick glance backwards tells me that most of Enma''s subordinates are left on their knees trembling from the spiritual weight the Prince is exerting on them. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! "I am the Hand of Vengeance, the Bringer of Justice!" Enma shrieks, lunacy bubbling from under his eyes, "Enemy of the world, meet your end!" Enma clasps both his hands together and the blazing flames transform into a churning vortex, extending high into the sky. The fire whips itself into an ever increasing frenzy, growing into a veritable tornado extending from the Prince''s arms. Waves of sinister heat batter my body as I stand firm against the enemy. Cries of panic and dismay rise from the crowd around us. "Taste the cleansing flame and join your precious Emperor!" Enma declares, thrusting his hands in my direction, directing the roiling tornado towards me. An unstoppable attack that can defeat any defense. That is what my senses tell me. But I am no ordinary mage. Like Enma, I can perform feats far beyond the ability of even the greatest sorcerers. "The greedy wolf pounces!" I respond, casting the most basic variation of the flash step. My entire body blurs as it performs a spatial shift away from my original location. The raging tornado passes through the now empty space and tears into Enma''s cowering men. Screams of pain mixed with the scent of cooking meat drift through the air. "Amateur." Enma jeers, "Everyone knows the first to perform a flash step loses." The Prince''s legs shuffle rapidly as he blinks away in the midst of a flash step of his own. As my body settles down from the spatial shift, Enma pops into existence right behind me, the tornado of fire dying down to mere embers. I have been neatly cornered. "How fast can your core recover from the flash step?" Enma taunts as his fist flies towards the back of my head. Just as I had planned. Spatial shifts take enormous amounts of energy and heavily strain a mage''s core. That''s the reason why despite how useful it is as a technique, experienced mages hardly use it. Performing a flash step creates a moment of vulnerability when the core''s output suddenly drops just after the move has been performed, leaving the mage unable to cast. Enma himself is probably feeling the drain right now, that''s why the flames are guttering out. Thank you Siobahn, for drumming that lesson into me. But I possess the Stallion''s power. Infinity is literally in my hands. My core easily chains a second flash step to the first, shifting out of the way from Enma''s attack. In a mere second, our positions are reversed, with me behind Enma''s haplessly flailing form. "How?" the Prince snarls as he turns around to square off against me once more. Just in time for my extended index finger to prod him in the eye. "Finger of the Mountain!" I bark as force erupts from my extended finger. I hear a wet, popping noise right before Enma''s head viciously snaps backwards as if he had been struck by a sledgehammer. The Prince grips his face with both hands as blood runs freely from the ruined eye socket, all the while howling at the top of his voice. The man refuses to go down however. Enma flares his core and squares both shoulders before lowering both hands from his face, slowly clenching them into fists. A grisly visage of red and ruin is all I see before me. As I ready myself for another round with Enma, a deep ache begins to permeate my bones. My body begins to twitch ever so slightly on its own accord. My fatigue must be catching up with me. Concentrate. I cannot afford to lose focus now. "Let''s go!" Enma cries out as he thumps a clenched fist across his chest. His boast is however cut off by a loud neighing. The neighing of a horse. The Black Stallion, which had been standing unobtrusively in the distance, thunders towards Enma at full speed. Before the Prince can react, he is unceremoniously trampled beneath the Stallion''s hooves. Enma hits the ground hard, a pool of blood spreading around his body. The Stallion neighs again and looks at me straight in the eye. Beneath the Stallion, I hear Enma groaning as he begins to rouse himself. Getting the message, I quickly mount the Stallion and it gallops away down the main road. How much punishment can Enma take? Why is someone so obviously powerful content with working for Siobahn? I hear a cry of protest from behind me as we cruise down the road and look back to investigate. Enma''s back on his feet and in the middle of manhandling someone off a motorbike. After throwing off the bike''s owner, the Prince mounts the hijacked vehicle and guns the engine hard, taking off in pursuit of the Stallion. His men hurriedly board several cars parked by the side of the road and begin to trail after us. The Stallion increases its speed in response but it is not enough. Enma is slowly but surely closing the distance between us. I manage to get a glimpse of the look in Enma''s remaining eye and recognize it immediately. It is the look of murder. Road Rash Onward the Stallion gallops, skillfully weaving in and out of the traffic around us. We are making good time and have left the hospital far behind us, but our pursuers are hot on our heels. Enma in particular charges down the road at full tilt on his motorbike, gradually eating up the lead the Stallion had originally opened up. My body is thrown up and down on the saddle as the Stallion squeezes out another burst of speed in its effort to escape. But Enma''s bike is both faster and more agile than the Stallion. Its engine roars triumphantly and Enma easily matches the Stallion''s increased pace. The rest of the Prince''s men doggedly trail behind in their cars, waiting for their chance to jump in and make their presence felt. The Stallion slams aside a car that is blocking our path and pushes through the congested traffic, but this maneuver costs us more time, allowing Enma to draw ever closer. I feel a great surge of power coming from Enma as the Fire of Perdition erupts all over his right arm. The Prince then makes a violent flinging motion at the Stallion, sending a globule of flame arcing in our direction. The Stallion cuts sharply to the side and ducks behind a van, barely managing to avoid the incoming wave of death. The fireball instead crashes into a nearby car, sending it flying into the air by virtue of a massive explosion. Incoherent static bursts into my ear but before I can make sense of it, one of the saddle bags the Stallion is carrying pops open, revealing a large revolver and several loose bullets. I understand. The Stallion had taught me how to shoot before, and once again, its my time to shine. I load the revolver and turn back, leveling the sights on Enma''s fast approaching form. The gun thunders defiantly as Enma is raises his blazing right arm again, vomiting out its oversize slugs. Enma''s eyes open wide in alarm and he jerks hard at his bike''s handles, causing the machine to swerve abruptly away from the incoming bullets. As I continue to open fire on Enma, he performs a haphazard zigzag across the road, ducking and weaving through my salvo. All too quickly, the gun runs dry and I am forced to reload it, giving Enma his breathing space. A stray thought enters my mind as I fumble with the revolver''s cylinder. Could I force Enma to crash his bike? Its most likely a vain hope, Enma''s far too skillful at riding for that to happen. As my mind entertains these pointless thoughts, another surge of pressure comes from Enma as he hurls one of his fireballs at the Stallion. This time the Stallion dashes aside a compact car and barrels down the road''s hard shoulder, narrowly avoiding the fireball by a hair. The heat of the flames pricks my skin. That was too close. As the Stallion keeps galloping without missing a beat, I note wryly the words painted on the hard shoulder itself. Emergency Only. This situation certainly applies. I turn around and begin firing away at Enma, hoping to at least slow down his progress, but get the same desultory results. Enma easily dodges my gunfire, but at least when he is dodging, he''s too preoccupied to actually attack the Stallion. As we battle, the road enters a bend and begins to slope upwards. The incline is gradual at first, but quickly becomes incredibly steep. I hear the Stallion grunt with effort as it makes the climb and our speed begins to slow. The road is taking us to a flyover. That''s not the problem. The problem is that the Stallion can''t maintain its speed while scaling the incline. We are going slower and slower, the furious gallop having been reduced to a leisurely canter. Enma revs his bike''s engine and begins to make the climb as well. The difference in our respective speeds becomes even more apparent with Enma now rapidly catching up to the struggling Stallion. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The Stallion cannot help me escape, that much is clear. Enma will catch up with me sooner or later. Should I hold my ground and fight then? No. I shudder as I recall the memory of my first battle against Enma. I may have struck a blow against him just now, but he''s still capable of putting up a huge struggle. And if I push him too far and the Princess chooses to intervene, our strength will be equal. That was the painful lesson I had learned. I barely managed a painful draw with him the last time we fought. I do not fancy my chances with all the backup Enma has waiting in the wings. The Stallion finally manages to crest the incline and it begins speeding up again, racing down the broad flyover. My mind racing, I look around for any opportunities to turn the tables on Enma. My breath catches for the barest moment. There''s a chance here, not to prevail, but at least to escape. The flyover cuts across the borders of two separate Districts and running perpendicularly below it is the City''s mag rail track. I hear the electric whine of the mag rail shuttle and sure enough, it blurs into my field of view, riding the track beneath me. This is my chance. Its a small window of opportunity, but I have to grasp it. A deep breath. The crackling noise of static in my ear intensifies, but I pay it no heed. I have to focus on what is in front of me. As Enma''s bike crests the incline as well, I throw caution to the wind and take a flying leap off the Stallion, sailing over the flyover''s safety barrier and plunge downwards, straight towards the roof of the mag rail shuttle. My stomach drops into a metaphorical pit and I feel my bladder loosen. Remember the teachings of the Stallion. You can do this. I can do this. I have no choice but to do this. My feet hit the roof of the mag rail shuttle hard and I drop into a roll to break the fall. I hope I didn''t wet myself there. As I get back to my feet and breathe a sigh of relief, I hear an enraged shout coming from somewhere above me. "That''s hardly enough!" Enma''s voice drifts towards me. A loud crash is heard and the Prince''s bike smashes through the safety barrier, making the plunge towards the mag rail shuttle as well. But Enma is not going to make it. The shuttle is moving too fast. Enma instead grasps the handles of the bike and performs a gymnast''s flip before releasing his grip, culminating at him catapulting the bike towards me like a projectile. As the Prince is separated from the bike, his feet shuffle rapidly and he flash steps in midair, landing securely on the tail end of the shuttle. Recovering from my shock at the outlandish display in front of me, I reach out with both arms as the bike crashes towards my head. The impact of the bike meeting my hands sends me skidding backwards, but I keep my balance and hold the bike tightly, my fingers sinking into the metal frame. I hear an angry snarl coming from Enma as he charges at me, his ruined face glowering with determination. I kick off the shuttle''s roof towards my opponent and rear the bike in my arms back. Before both of us collide, I bring my arms about in a mighty swing, sending the bike barging towards Enma''s face like a club. The Prince growls and pivots on his foot, lashing out with a kick. His leg rips through the bike as if it was made out of paper, the tip of the Prince''s shoe barely missing my chin. Dropping the ruined bike, I begin backing up to get some space between us, but Enma''s right arm shoots out and catches me by the lapel of my clothes. Green fire rushes down his arm and my coat quickly catches fire. "Burn! Bur-" Enma shrieks before my fist catches him squarely in the mouth. As he staggers backwards, I tear off the coat the Stallion had prepared for me and toss the burning mass off the side of the shuttle. The Prince rubs his fat lips gingerly and regards me once more. "You cannot escape. Face justice. Stop running." he says. I enter my fighting stance as the wind whistles past us, "What will you tell my sister then?" "That you are beyond redemption." Enma spits, "You sold your soul for power. You''re no longer Siobahn''s brother." "We live in the True Emperor''s world." I reply, "The Princess''s rebellion will end in the way it has always ended. Defeat. I won''t let you drag my family down with your nonsense." "Big talk for a coward who keeps running!" Enma shouts. I frown and gather my strength before shooting back, "Enough words." "Its time for deeds, Prince." Past and Present "Enma! I''m your Uncle you ungrateful bastard!" the old man''s elongated ears quiver with outrage as the militia drag his struggling body to the execution square. The militiamen roughly throw him into the shallow pit lined with reddish sand, stained with the blood from countless deaths that had taken place on that very spot. The crowd surrounding the execution square murmurs quietly at the sight and shuffle their feet restlessly, but does nothing more. A threatening glance from the man standing in the pit silences the crowd. Clad in an ugly long coat, his face is hidden by an executioner''s black hood while a hangman''s noose is loosely wrapped around the man''s throat in a mockery of a necktie. The eye holes of the hood reveal the unmitigated disdain the man has for the crowd in front of him. A large double handed sword in its scabbard is secured to the man''s back. A richly dressed young man in embroidered silk robes descends into the pit and stands next to the executioner. The young noble, for this is the only thing such a person could be, clasps his clawed hands and bows respectfully to the hooded man as he speaks. "Noble Blackguard, Sacred Executioner. I have performed great deeds in the service of the True Emperor, and it is by these deeds I wish to be judged." the lordling prattles, "I have assembled the tithes to the True Emperor. The first one shall be of my own blood, my uncle who -" "Cut the crap." the Blackguard grumbles disinterestedly while signalling his pair of comrades who are waiting at the sides of the pit, "Hold the old man down." The other two similarly garbed and armed Blackguards seize the old man by the arms and force him into a kneeling position. The Sacred Executioner unsheathes his blade and raises it high, showboating before the unenthusiastic crowd. "Enma, how many of your family members have you sent us already?" the Sacred Executioner asks the lordling by his side, "I remember the last time we visited I beheaded your first wife." "And I am honored that my first wife was able to be of service to the True Emperor." Prince Enma bows deeply as he responds. The Sacred Executioner merely snorts at this response and swings the sword down on the neck of the prostrated old man. The old man''s head parts from his body with a spray of blood, soaking into the reddish sand. The Executioner''s assistants begin parading the head and decapitated body before the crowd, who quietly look down with glum expressions. "Send us someone you actually value next time." the Sacred Executioner rumbles beneath his hood, "Like that courtesan you bought recently. We are not here to clean up unwanted family members for you." Prince Enma hurriedly makes a signal to the militia and the troops begin dragging a large group of men and women into the pit. The crowd becomes agitated at the sight, for these are their sons and daughters, the very people Prince Enma as their lord should be protecting. The Assistants draw their own swords and brandish them threateningly. Once more, the crowd returns to its unhappy silence, unwilling to bear the cost of defiance. "The flower of my kingdom''s youth," Enma says, "delivered for the glory of the True Emperor." "Better." the Sacred Executioner comments, "my assistants can get some experience with this lot. Remember Enma, you''re in charge only because we dealt with your brothers for you." The Executioner snaps his fingers and the Assistants jump into the pit, slashing away with their swords. The militiamen constantly press at the sacrifices, preventing them from fighting back. Before long, all that is left of the men and women is a pile of dismembered body parts. The militia begin tossing the loose arms and legs into the crowd as souvenirs to commemorate the occasion. A few people rear back in disgust as this display, but another warning look from the Sacred Executioner causes them to reluctantly pick up the body parts that lay splattered all over the ground. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. The Executioner then makes his way to the center of the execution square where he is flanked by his assistants. He then holds his hand up to get the crowd''s attention. The assistants rap the ground twice with their swords. Clang. Clang. "What do you owe the True Emperor?" the Sacred Executioner thunders. "We owe the True Emperor our works." the crowd murmurs. Clang. Clang. The swords tap against the ground again. "What do you owe the True Emperor?" once more the question is asked. "We owe the True Emperor our obedience." the reply is like the mewling of a whipped dog. Clang. Clang. "What do you owe the True Emperor?" one final time is the question issued. "We owe the True Emperor our lives." the response is almost cut short by a sob, but the crowd manages to say it. "Good. Very good." the Sacred Executioner congratulates, "Remember this always, the True Emperor is never unjust, and only seeks his due. Debts must be repaid. Don''t you agree, Prince?" Enma nods and answers, "I have the special offering ready, Sacred Executioner. Judgment has been passed for her crimes." "Bring the sacrifice out." the Executioner directs, "This is the one you had summoned us for, correct? The great deed that you were boasting about?" "I live to serve." Prince Enma murmurs submissively, "My work, my obedience and my life all belong to the True Emperor." "And I have brought Princess Anri to face the True Emperor''s justice." ..... The mag rail shuttle speeds through the City''s landscape, turning the scenery into a blur. The strong wind buffets Enma and I and we spend a moment regaining our footing on the roof of the mag rail shuttle. Enma''s remaining eye radiates unmitigated hostility and madness towards me. His the nails on fingers sharpen into claws and like a snarling animal, the Prince pounces towards me. I step forward to meet the challenge, Finger of the Mountain at the ready. "Gallant!" Enma shouts as he rapidly closes in, claws bared and his mouth twisted into an insane snarl. As my index finger surges forward, power gathering at its tip, the Prince abruptly pulls backwards, his entire body retracting away from my attack. As I attempt to recover from overextending myself, Enma bolts forward once more, his claws slashing across my body. A vicious strike slices across my neck but my flesh does not yield to the Prince''s fury, thanks to the Stallion''s power. But an uncomfortable ache begins to seep ever deeper into my bones. Its as if tiny cracks are forming all over my body. Putting my worries to the side, I grapple with Enma as he slashes at me, preventing the Prince from retreating again. As my opponent struggles to break my grip, I slam my index finger straight into his chest repeatedly. Finger of the Mountain hammers Enma''s torso like a battering ram as blood begins to seep from his mouth and his legs buckle. Enma merely chuckles at the predicament he is in and green flames erupt down the length of his arms. The Prince catches me in a bear hug and lifts me up, applying ferocious pressure to my spine. My body screams in protest as my clothes catch fire again. I knee Enma desperately in an attempt to get free, but he merely tightens his embrace. "Its over!" Enma gloats triumphantly. I grunt and clasp both hands on Enma''s head. Focusing the Stallion''s power, I put everything on this one final bet. "Damavand!" I shout as the power that can subdue a dragon crashes on to Enma. There''s a solid crack of bones breaking and Enma''s leg sag at nearly ninety degrees. With a ripping noise, the section of roof Enma is standing on gives way and he topples into the shuttle''s compartment itself. Free from the bear hug, I drop on to the shuttle''s roof and roll off, landing on the side of the elevated mag rail track. As I begin to pick myself up, the shuttle zooms off into the distance, taking Enma with it. Shucking off my burning clothes, I collapse back on the concrete with a sigh of relief, savoring the sensation of surviving another fight with Enma and the sensation of the cold concrete against my bare skin. This is not over. Not by a long shot. Somehow, I know that the both of us will have a day of reckoning soon. But until then, the least I can do is enjoy this moment of peace. And have a conversation that has been long delayed. "True Emperor, I know you can hear me." I whisper to the wind. "When you found me, I was a man with no future. An irrelevance, to the world, to my family and to myself. " "Whatever your reasons were, you gave me purpose and relevance. For that I will always be grateful." I assume a kneeling position, my right hand over my heart. "I will serve True Emperor, so that I can live under your sky. So that I will continue to have a future in this world." I swallow hard and brace myself for what is to come next. "I know the children''s story, of how you would grant your Blackguards boons for their service. I will stop the Princess. I will defeat her champions." I cast my gaze upwards to the sky and extend my arms in supplication. "So hear my request. Grant me this wish." The Emperors New Clothes I blink as a stray snowflake falls into my eye. The first thing I realize is that I am kneeling by the side of an elevated mag rail track with my arms outstretched. Isn''t this rather dangerous? Did I lose time again? I quickly look about, checking for any approaching shuttles that would turn me into paste. Nothing. Good. I''m perfectly safe, if thoroughly embarrassed. The second thing I realize is that I am completely nude. Butt naked. The only thing I have on now are my shoes. Wonderful. "Please tell me this is not what I am thinking it is." I ask The Voice. "What are you thinking, Transmigrator?" The Voice replies, "I have many talents, but mind reading is not one of them." "Gallant took over the body again didn''t he?" I sigh as I pick myself up and dust off my knees, "I sort of blacked out while Chance was kicking my ass." "All indications point to yes. You were totally unresponsive until just now." The Voice confirms, "From what I can tell, Mr Gallant assumed control after you had succumbed to the strain of your injuries. He then engaged in a running battle with Prince Enma that concluded where you are standing right now." "OK. Cool." I confirm as I peer over the elevated track. Damn, the track is abreast with several skyscrapers, office buildings from the look of it. I must at least be at the height of at least the thirtieth floor. "Why am I naked by the way?" I query as I begin walking down the side of the track, admiring the bird''s eye view of The City my vantage point gives me. "Prince Enma managed to set your clothes on fire, forcing Mr Gallant to discard them." The Voice clarifies, "There is a maintenance ladder that will take you back to street level just ahead of you." "Beats having my arm broken again." I remark as my feet stride forward, while my eyes keep a lookout for the ladder The Voice had referred to. "Transmigrator, do you remember anything of the time when Mr Gallant took over?" The Voice suddenly queries, "Anything at all?" "What? No." I grumble, idly scratching my dry skin. This never ending winter is really wracking havoc with my skincare. Need to get a bottle of moisturizer on my way back to the Hobo Mobile Base. Dry weather is really the worst. But then I don''t have my wallet. Or my shirt. Or my pants. Dammit. I lazily gaze at an adjacent office complex and see the figure of a young office lady disbelievingly staring out of the window at me. I give her the V for victory sign and she takes a photo of me with her mobile. I am already famous in The City as the flying trouserless man, what''s the harm of another viral photo? "Oh." The Voice flatly remarks, "Never mind then." Now that response gets my attention immediately. "What do you mean ''never mind''?" I bark in surprise, "Did something happen that I should know about?" "Nothing that directly concerns you now Transmigrator." The Voice says, "Be at ease and concern yourself more with the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure. Public nudity is an offence in The City you know." I stop in front of the maintenance ladder which is mounted by the side of one of the elevated track''s supporting pillars and cautiously begin my descent back to the street. Good thing this ladder has a safety cage attached. Falling to my death after an accidental slip would be a hell of a way to bow out after everything that has happened. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. "That''s a really lousy deflection." I shoot back as I clamber down the ladder, "What. Happened." "Before you regained control, Mr Gallant was addressing me directly." The Voice sighs, an odd mixture of tiredness and pleasure, "It was a surprise, that is all. It has been a long time since the natives treated me with anything close to respect." I recall the kneeling posture the body was in just as I began to wake up. A niggling thought enters my mind. "Was Gallant praying to you?" I query. That would certainly explain the kneeling. "Yes." The Voice responds simply without further elaboration. An awkward silence settles between us with the only sound the scraping of my feet against the ladder. "And?" I prompt impatiently, "What was the prayer about?" "What else?" The Voice easily dismisses, "The same thing everybody prays for. Boons, favors and the like." Huh. I suppose that makes sense if Gallant did manage to fight off Chance. And not just once, but twice. The law of equivalent exchange would oblige The Voice to repay its debt to Gallant. "What was Gallant''s prayer about anyway?" I press while taking a quick glance down. Making good progress, won''t be long before I am back at street level. "To live under my sky as someone relevant to the world." The Voice elaborates indifferently. "Huh? I don''t get it." I grumble while furrowing my brows. "Pay it no mind." The Voice rasps, "Mr Gallant possesses a number of strange turns of phrase." I shake my head and slide down the remainder of the ladder. Well, whatever, Gallant is free to ask for whatever he wants. We have bigger problems to worry about right now anyway. As my feet hit the pavement, the SUV pulls up beside me, right on time. I quickly open the door and scramble inside before too many people notice the naked man walking around and call the police on me. As I lie down on the sleeping bag at the back of the SUV and shut my eyes in exhaustion, I hear The Voice continue the conversation. "Something strange happened at the hospital." it remarks, "All of a sudden, the entire hospital was erased from my sight. It was as if the building and its surroundings did not exist. Despite my knowledge to the contrary, all my senses confirmed that there was nothing where the hospital should be." "Yeah. Red thread had cut the whole place off from the rest of the world." I comment with my eyes shut, "Was that why our connection was severed? I couldn''t use the core either." "Most likely. You had disappeared from my sight along with the hospital." The Voice rumbles, "You only reappeared when you managed to make it back to the main road." I think back to the events at the hospital. "Did you lose track of the SUV as well?" I quiz. The Voice considers my question for a moment before replying, "No. I could still sense the SUV, but could not control it. It was as if the vehicle was trapped in an empty void I could not reach." Yeah. That confirms it. The servant couldn''t actually penetrate the SUV with its powers so he decided to cut it off from its surroundings. "The red thread didn''t get into the SUV." I inform, "The Incarnate had wrapped the thread around the car, turning it into a giant mummy instead. Could you prepare something similar for me before the next battle?" "What do you mean?" The Voice rumbles, completely puzzled. "Some kind of protective gear." I explain, "You know, something that can insulate the artificial core from the servant''s powers. That way I won''t get shut down the next time I throw down in front of the servant." "Mm. I will see what I can do." The Voice considers, "However, the problem of being cut off by the servant from the world at large still remains. The artificial core''s performance may be compromised in such a situation." "It better than nothing." I murmur back as I slowly begin to drift to sleep under the gentle rocking of the SUV''s suspension. The Voice concedes, "Fair enough. Though I would recommend you seek an alternative way of overcoming the servant that does not require direct confrontation." "I already have an idea." I yawn while getting comfortable, "When I''m recovered, I will tell you all about it." "Oh?" The Voice rasps, "Now you have piqued my curiosity." "Its nothing much." I mumble, "Just taking a page from Fate''s playbook." "We''re going to kill with a borrowed knife." Best Friends Forever "Celeste, are you ready to go?" Mom asks as she starts up the car. She and Dad decided that they no longer wanted to stay together and they told me that I was going to be living with Mom from now on. I had packed my things and Dad helped me load my luggage into Mom''s car. Dad quickly went back into the house after that, he didn''t want to talk to Mom at all. I get into the car and fasten my seat belt. "I know things are scary right now," Mom says as she begins driving to our new home, "but its for the best, OK? Everything will be alright." "Mm." I nod. Mom''s right. There''s nothing to be scared about. My best friend told me so anyway. I met her a few weeks ago on a shopping trip at the hypermarket. "You''re very brave." Mom pats me on the head fondly. "No, not brave." I murmur while hugging my best friend who sits on my lap. "Is that the doll I bought for you the last time?" Mom raises an eyebrow at my best friend before she goes back to concentrating on the road. "Princess." I smile, "Princess knows many things. She''ll protect us and make everything right." Of course I don''t tell Mom that I had known all along that we would be moving out from the house. Princess told me about it the day we first met. Princess knows many things. "Sure she will, Celeste." Mom shrugs in reply, "You want me to get Princess a castle once we settle into the new place?" I shake my head, "Princess doesn''t need it. Princess says money is tight and I shouldn''t make trouble." "Oh Celeste." Mom sighs and puts a hand over her mouth. The drive continues in silence, except for the whispering of my best friend in my ear. ..... Princess had a secret. A secret that she could tell no one else other than me. She was the best mage in the world, but had to hide herself because of a bad man called the Tyrant. The Tyrant attracted other bad men to him, people who liked to steal, to cheat and to hurt others. The Tyrant liked these kinds of people because as the most evil of all the bad men, the Tyrant could bully and rule over them. Together, these evil people hunt Princess, forcing her to hide. That''s why Princess approached me at the store and asked me to hide her in my home. I am not a bad person. I am a good girl. That''s why Princess trusts me. And why I will not betray Princess because I am a good person. And good people don''t hurt their friends. Not like bad people. Not like the Tyrant. Friends help each other. Princess is my friend and I help hide her from the bad people. I am Princess''s friend, and she shares her magic with me. Princess told me that as long as I pray to her, she can hear me and help with my problems. Problems like Mom and Dad not staying together anymore. Why are there problems in my life? Why is there unhappiness in this world? I asked Mom this question one day and all she did was start crying for no reason. Mom didn''t know anything, but Princess had the answer. I should have asked Princess from the start. Because Princess is so smart. Pain, unhappiness, its all caused by the Tyrant. The Tyrant likes good people to be unhappy. The Tyrant likes good people to suffer. If he could, the Tyrant would just kill all the good people in the world, so that he can hang out with all his evil friends and do evil things all day, everyday. But the Tyrant can''t do all that, because Princess keeps fighting back whenever she can. And I can help Princess out by praying to her. I can do my part to save Mom and Dad from the Tyrant. ....If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "We''re here Celeste." Dad tells me as the car pulls up at Unity Academy, "Plenty of rich kids at this place, mind yourself." I hold Princess tight in my arms as she sits on my lap. Dad frowns as he glances unhappily at Princess. I feel a wave of annoyance rising at him. Why doesn''t he show some gratitude to his benefactor? "You''re not a child anymore." Dad reprimands as gently as he can, "Don''t you think you should put your dolls away?" Ah, of course. I had made a mistake. Princess told me that we had to move more cautiously from now on. I should not openly hang out with her. I quickly open my bag and allow Princess to hide herself inside. "That''s better." Dad sighs in relief, "You know that I''ll be leaving for that new job overseas soon right? And your Mom will be joining me. If there''s any problem with staying at the dorms, call us. You remember the number we gave you?" I nod, "I''ll be fine. I''ll be making lots of new friends here anyway." My eyes suddenly widen as Princess urgently whispers in my ear. A boy walks past the car towards the Academy''s main entrance and I can''t help but stare at him. He''s the one. The one that Princess kept telling me about. The one who needs to be saved. "Uh huh." Dad goes back to frowning, "Your Mom and I will be in touch. Regularly in touch. Remember. Behave." ..... The bad man is outside the dorms. Princess told me that he''s the Tyrant''s friend. That he likes to hurt people. The bad man is here because the Tyrant wants to corrupt Tensei and to put Ken in his place. Bad people have their own hierarchy. Ken thinks that he is at the top of that ladder, but he''s wrong. He''s nothing compared to the Tyrant and the bad man. I''m scared. I am scared because the bad man is hurting Ken''s gangsters right now. If he finds me, if he knows that I am the Princess''s best friend ... The bad man will kill me. I know this. I know it deep in my heart. That''s why Princess taught me how to hide, to prevent anyone from discovering our relationship. I no longer hang out in public with Princess. Instead, I have rented an apartment of my own with the money Mom and Dad send me. My allowance is huge and my parents are doing well, thanks to my best friend. The apartment allows Princess to hide and have her own space. We spent several weekends decorating the place. It looks awesome now, a real castle fit for a real princess. But I cannot show this castle to any of my friends. Like Princess says, I must make myself as small as possible, so that the Tyrant cannot see me. If the Tyrant thinks I am beneath his notice, I will be safe for that much longer. Safe to continue helping Princess and to protect Tensei. The bad man ignores me. It worked. I did it. ..... It no longer works. Everything is going wrong. The bad man has been rampaging up and down The City. Its all over the news. Tensei has been corrupted, betraying the hearts of so many of our friends. Making myself unnoticeable is no longer enough. Princess is hurt, she''s losing her fight against the Tyrant. I need to step up, even if it means attracting the attention of the bad man. I may be weak, but I can still shoulder some of the burden for my best friend. And so I pray. As Tensei sleeps in the hospital, surrounded by his Uncle''s guards, I pray for his safety and salvation. Day and night, I stay at Tensei''s side to keep him safe. I do this because Tensei''s a good person, I know it. His heart is pure and gentle. Completely guileless. He just needs to be given a chance to live free from the Tyrant. The bad man is growing more daring though, I sense his presence, lurking just outside of the building. He''s still scared of Princess, but sooner or later he will break in here. I pour every drop of strength I have into my prayer. Princess, please, protect us, protect Tensei. Keep him safe. The drain is enormous, I have never felt so tired before, but I keep at it, feeling the bad man trying to run away. That''s right, run away, run far away and stop bothering good people! A gunshot from somewhere outside is heard as the bad man''s presence retreats into the distance. I slump from my chair by Tensei''s bedside and collapse on to his hard, muscular chest. Fatigue spreads throughout my body, leaving me limp and weak. Tensei gasps in surprise, completely bewildered by the sudden gunshot while the battle butlers take up protective positions around the bed. "What''s going on?" Tensei asks, mild panic in his voice. "Mm." I murmur, "Its fine. The bad man is gone now." "Bad man?" Tensei asks, sounding confused. "Hey, stop talking about that." I say gently, "Stroke my hair, OK?" "Alright?" Tensei complies and his fingers begin running through my hair as requested, "Why though? Its so unlike you Celeste." I huff as my arms wind around Tensei''s body, "Girls can be strong, but we really hurt on the inside. Remember that. Irene, Sera, Kira, they may smile, but its smiling while holding the tears in. Treat them well from now on. Can you promise me that?" "How about you Celeste?" Tensei asks, "Do you smile on the outside and cry on the inside as well?" "Me?" I smile regretfully, "I met you on the first day I arrived at the Academy. Did you know that?" Tensei freezes and shakes his head. I push myself up from Tensei''s chest and return to my former sitting position. I squeeze Tensei''s hand and I feel his body tense. Why though? Sometimes this kind of stuff gets so confusing. Well anyway, squeezing Tensei''s hand is what Princess says is the best thing to do. And Princess is really smart. Back To School I stretch leisurely in the bed and enjoy the sensation of actually decent back support. A sleeping bag is all fine and dandy, but nothing beats a proper bed. The early dawn sunlight lazily illuminates the room from the window, leisurely seeping in through a gap between the curtains. I haven''t felt so comfortable in a long time. Should I take a break? Yeah, I probably should just take things easy for a bit. "Wake up." The Voice disapprovingly rasps in my ear, "When you asked me to bring you back to the Academy, I was under the impression it was not to laze about in the staff apartment." "Relax." I shoot back while closing my eyes once more, "There''s no point in getting up so early anyway. I''ll get going once its working hours and class is in full swing." "You told me that we would be dealing with the servant using a borrowed knife, Transmigrator." The Voice complains, "I see a distinct lack of knives and little opportunity to borrow them at an educational institute." I curl up on my side as I give my explanation to The Voice, "Yeah. I sort of jumped the gun there. Before we go about borrowing a knife, we need to figure out who to stab. That''s why I wanted to come to the Academy." The Voice hums as it considers what I said, "Fair enough. Unfortunately, the Hero and the servant are to the best of my knowledge still at the hospital. None of the Heroines are at the Academy either. What good will your visit do?" "There''s someone you''re forgetting." I point out while grumpily getting up from bed. Can''t go back to sleep while fending off The Voice''s questions. Might as well head for the shower. "Who?" The Voice asks, genuinely puzzled. "Delinquent. He''s drifting away from the Hero now, but that was not always the case." I explain, "If there''s anyone who can give us the lowdown on the Hero''s contacts and possible identity of the servant, Delinquent''s our man." I step into the shower cubicle and turn on the hot water at full blast. Man, that feels good. The whole urban nomad lifestyle can eat shit as far as I''m concerned. Give me a nice house any day. And plenty of money to actually maintain the place. Can''t forget that. "Not a bad plan." The Voice says, "Unfortunately, there is a problem. Mr Matsui dislikes you Transmigrator, due to that event when you attacked his men on campus. He may not be willing to provide the information we seek." "I know. That''s why I want to go when class is in session." I answer while lathering my hair with shampoo, "He can''t get away from me if he''s sitting in class." "Mr Matsui displays an inclination towards violence whenever he is cornered or made to feel uncomfortable." The Voice informs. "Then I violence him back. Its not going to be a problem at Delinquent''s power level. Though I personally don''t think things will come to that." I shrug before adding, "Look, I like our chats, but you know ..." "I know what?" The Voice rumbles, oblivious to what I am hinting at. "You know you could give me some space?" I grumble, "Like I''m naked here, taking a shower. That''s a prime definition of private time there." The Voice laughs, "How is being naked considered private time? You are rather famous for your public displays of nudity after all." "Just get out of here." I huff before returning to my shower. ..... Its not the first time I''ve walked the grounds of Unity Academy, but it still amazes me how grandiose the place is. The neatly manicured gardens and the historical buildings really make the place a world apart from a regular school. School fees alone must cost the parents an arm and a leg. I breathe in the fresh air, the sharp cold driving away the last of my sleepiness. Instead of entering the building itself, I make a loop around the perimeter, heading towards the back of the campus. "Why can''t we just wait until classes start?" I complain, "Do we need to barge into the school assembly?"This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. "Stop being lazy. You just want to go back to sleep." The Voice rasps, "Mr Matsui is standing out in the open field with the rest of his class right now. There is nowhere for him to run. You can begin your mission without delaying any further." "Right. Right." I nod as I approach the large field at the rear of the campus. The entire student body is assembled there in neat rows, listening to an old woman facing them while droning away on a microphone under the shade of the building. Something about excellence, blah, blah, blah. I''m not really interested in listening, left my school going days behind way back then. Flanking the old woman is a row of adults looking thoroughly bored at the deeply uninteresting speech the old woman is giving. The principal and the faculty then, would be my guess. And that guess is confirmed when one particular member of the staff catches my eye. An attractive, curvaceous woman gasps at the sight of me and hurriedly leaves her place among the staff. She hustles towards me, intercepting me before I can reach the rows of students. Her hand reaches out and secures itself on my arm with a surprisingly strong grip. "What the hell are you doing at the Academy?" the woman hisses. "Nice to see you too, Alley." I remark, "You''re putting makeup on again?" "Get out of here." Alley snaps, "Haven''t you done enough harm already?" I shake Alley off and continue my way towards the students. Alley stumbles slightly but quickly settles into a comfortable walking pace by my side. "Here to meet someone. Its not you by the way." I say, "Just need some answers from my man and I''ll be gone." And there he is. I spot Delinquent shifting side to side restlessly in the middle of the crowd of students. Who holds assembly outside during winter? Complete madness, is what it is. As crazy as three pregnant girls saving the world, but there you go. I begin pushing through the students as I home in on my target. "The Matsui heir?" Alley pulls at me in panic, "Are you crazy? No!" I ignore Alley and grab Delinquent without giving any warning before dragging him out from the crowd. Delinquent is too surprised to resist as first, but just as we are about to clear the mass of students, he begins to struggle. I send Delinquent a message in the form of twisting his arm hard and covering his mouth to stifle any protests. Delinquent flinches in pain, immediately shutting up and no longer resisting. A few students look at the two of us in alarm but Alley just waves away their concerns, telling them to pay attention to the brain damage the principal is spewing instead. I shift one of my hands to the top of Delinquent''s head, forcing him to bend over as I guide him towards the parking area. "Going to have a chat. That''s all." I tell Delinquent, "So relax. Nothing''s going to happen to you." "Screw you." Delinquent sullenly replies, but doesn''t bother to struggle. "Look, I''m serious here." I console, releasing the arm lock over him, "See? Not going to hurt you. Just want to talk." Delinquent straightens up and rubs his arm gingerly. "Talk?" he mutters, "What about?" "Your friend. Tensei." I answer. Delinquent''s face suddenly flushes and he lashes out with his fist, hitting me squarely in the cheek. Alley gasps in surprise in the background while I allow the artificial core to tank the damage. "You done?" I ask with a flat look on my face, "Got it out of your system?" Delinquent rubs his knuckles and shoots back, "Yeah. But why should I answer your questions?" "Tensei and you are friends." I fire back, "Why are you here by yourself instead of doing friend stuff with him?" "Tensei. Tensei. Its all about him." Delinquent curses, his hands bunched into fists, "Everybody just pays attention to him. You know how much that asshole cost me?" "You want to talk about it?" I say, spreading my hands towards Delinquent in a conciliatory gesture. Delinquent rolls his eyes but he calms down considerably, "I know what you''re doing Gallant, don''t think I''m stupid. But yeah, you''re right. I do want to talk about it." "OK!" Alley claps her hands behind us after breathing out an audible sigh of relief, "Ken, Gallant, let''s have this conversation in my office. Its more private there." But Delinquent holds up his palm, cutting Alley off. "I''m not going to answer any questions of yours though." he says, "I talk about the stuff I want to talk about. We clear?" I just give Delinquent a thumbs up as the three of us head back towards the main building. "Surprised to see me still here?" Alley asks out of the blue as our small group meanders through the rows of trees lining the path to the school itself. "No?" I reply, "ORPO had no evidence to charge you with. I''m more surprised at your cheek in confronting me just now." Alley makes an annoyed sound and gives me a disgusted look, "After all the trouble you caused for me, be thankful I am even bothering to talk to you." "I know you tried to sell me down the river when you were in remand." I smirk. Alley''s face goes white as a sheet. "How?" she breathes. Delinquent gives a rather indifferent explanation, "Gallant works for ORPO. That''s why he''s walking about in broad daylight. He''s not scared of being arrested." "Works with, not works for." I grumble to which I only receive a disinterested grunt from Delinquent. But our third companion yields a more interesting reaction. I break into laughter at the aghast look on Alley''s face. She''s probably thinking of how screwed she is right now with me and her secret blackmailer knowing that she tried and failed to snitch on us. "Its nice to catch up every once in a while, isn''t it?" I manage to squeeze out between giggles. Alley looks down despondently as she mutters, "No." "It really isn''t at all." Mental Breakdown Alley leads Delinquent and I down the deserted halls of the main building. With all the students and the faculty attending the bizarre outdoors assembly, in the middle of winter no less, no one spots us as Alley unlocks the door to the administration wing and hurriedly ushers us inside. No one has bothered to turn the lights on yet, leaving the cubicle farm shrouded in gloom. Delinquent suddenly curses as he trips over an unattended stack of files left on the floor. I reach out to steady Delinquent and take the opportunity to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled between the three of us. "So, how''s Jacob doing, Alley?" I ask but all I get is a hostile hiss from the woman. She turns briefly around and fixes on me a stare that could burn a hole through solid concrete. "I''m not threatening you." I sigh, "I''m honestly curious about how Jacob is doing with the whole au naturale lifestyle thing on the reserve." Delinquent starts at my response and blurts out, "You mean the rumors were true? Mrs Alley had her husband shipped off to live like a wild animal in the wilderness?" "Oh shut up, the both of you." Alley grumbles as she takes a ring of keys from a pantsuit''s pocket and unlocks the door to her private office, "I haven''t heard about Jacob ever since the keepers at the reserve set him loose. They rated his chances of survival as high though." "Jacob had gotten himself killed at the hands, or rather paws, of a pride of lions a few weeks ago." The Voice sniggers, "If its any consolation, our fledgling vampire had left behind a legacy of sorts. A pack of vampiric lions. Though its uncertain when the rangers will decide to eliminate this threat to the reserve." I stifle a laugh at this news. It would be hilarious telling it to Alley and watching her reaction, but nah, even I have a limit. Delinquent gives me a questioning look but I dismiss it with a waive of my hand. Alley on her part doesn''t bother with my antics and merely lets us into her personal office, before gesturing at us to take a seat and securely locking the door. "Alright." I begin addressing Delinquent after having made myself comfortable, "Tensei. What''s the beef between you and him?" Delinquent leans back in his chair with an annoyed but complicated expression on his face. He opens his mouth to speak several times, but always clams up without actually saying anything, the furrow on his brows deepening. Alley despite herself begins to grow interested in Delinquent''s consternation and leans across the table in anticipation. Still, Delinquent refuses, or is unable, to begin telling his story. He might need a little prompting to get things started. "I heard you and him were best friends." I offer, leaving the conclusion of that statement open for Delinquent to fill in. "Yeah. We were." Delinquent agrees the confusion on his face growing, "I think we still are? But I don''t know..." He folds his arms defensively and sinks into morose contemplation, the words not coming to him. Delinquent taps his feet restlessly and begins to rise from his seat. Whatever hold the Hero has over him, its stronger than Delinquent''s latent hostility. "This was a mistake, I gotta go." Delinquent mutters to my alarm. I quickly activate the artificial core and fire off a mind blast. Talk. You want to talk. Delinquent''s eyes widen for a second as he digests my mental command. Slowly nodding to himself, he settles back down in his seat and begins tapping Alley''s table with a kind of frantic energy. Delinquent folds his legs and fidgets a little before deciding to go back to man spreading. "The construction site. You were there." Delinquent finally addresses me after a pregnant pause. "The URI? Yeah, I remember that." I answer, "I would have thought that you would be on our side, instead of SOPO''s." Delinquent makes an irritated noise, "I wasn''t on SOPO''s side. I was on Tensei''s." "And?" I gently urge. Good, we''re getting somewhere. Delinquent''s story is coming out piecemeal, but he is willing to talk about the good stuff now. "And now I''m no longer the heir to the Matsui family." Delinquent deflates and sinks into his chair like a beat up rag doll. Uh, that''s a sudden escalation of events. Alley makes an exclamation of surprise as she questions Delinquent on her own accord, caught up in his revelations. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! "What? How did that happen?" Alley asks. Delinquent closes his eyes tightly while burying his head in his hands, "The other patriarchs had a word with my father. They said I was unworthy to be heir after publicly standing against the family." I hear a stifled sob coming from Delinquent as he continues, "Father was forced to agree. He''s giving me an allowance until I graduate, but I''m otherwise completely cut off. The family won''t support me once I leave the Academy. I''ve been kicked out." Alley is left completely speechless at this confession. She finally gathers herself and tries to console Delinquent, "Look Ken, you''re still young. There will be plenty of opportunities to turn things around." "No. No there won''t." Delinquent whispers, "Thanks to Tensei, the whole Family knows that I''m a sell-out. Everyone there except my father wants me gone. My father was keeping the other patriarchs at bay by justifying my actions as building ties with SOPO, leaving the door open for me to return in the future, but -" "ORPO has defeated SOPO completely." I conclude, "No one in your Family wants to associate with someone in Hernandez''s bad books." "Yeah." Delinquent sullenly agrees, "My father was originally not keen on aligning the Family with ORPO. Now that ORPO is top dog, everyone wants to kiss up to Hernandez. Me going back would get in the way of that." Alley sympathetically massages Delinquent''s shoulder gently. He makes a halfhearted effort at shaking her off, but eventually submits to her attentions. "And what about you and the idol girl?" I quiz. "How did you know about that?" Delinquent suddenly barks and sits up straight as a rod. "Saw you at the hospital the other day." I shrug, "You were joining in at that public bonfire, right?" Delinquent folds his arms defensively again and sinks back into the chair, "I don''t want to talk about that." Alley gives me a warning look as she reassuringly pats our former gangster heir on the shoulder one more time. "Alright. Alright." I concede, "So I get why you hate Tensei now. He spoiled things with your family." Delinquent suddenly rouses himself and rebuts, "No! I don''t hate Tensei. At least I don''t think so? Its complicated, OK?" Alley cuts in at this point, "I don''t understand. You hate him, but at the same time you don''t?" Delinquent clenches his fists and trembles with tension, "Tensei didn''t force me to do anything. I did what I did freely. But there was always a thought in the back of my head, you know, telling me that all this was wrong, that I shouldn''t be backing up Tensei. When I''m with him, that thought goes away, but when I''m alone, or talking to someone else about this stuff, it just comes roaring back. Like now." Alley frowns at this incoherent statement, "Tensei tricked you into helping him? That''s what you''re saying?" "No!" Delinquent cries before backing up, "Yes? Maybe? I don''t know anymore!" "Density. The Hero''s density pulled Mr Matsui into subordinating his own interests in favor of the Hero''s agenda." The Voice informs, "Mr Matsui is now slowly but surely weaning himself off the Hero''s influence. The confusion he is experiencing is due to his neglected true nature reasserting itself." That makes sense. Delinquent is probably feeling like a fool following the Hero about and breaking ties with his entire family in the bargain. His brain is probably shitting itself thinking of rationalizations for turning his entire life into a massive dumpster fire. But facts cannot be denied. Delinquent is in his own very inimitable way, coming to terms with these undeniable facts. I quickly seize the opportunity and press Delinquent for the information I need, "Did Tensei do the same thing to any of his other friends?" "I don''t think so?" Delinquent scratches his head, "We were a small group, but not really close to each other. There was Tensei of course, then that Inspector Scott, Sera, Rose.." a slight grumble of unhappiness, "Kira and Celeste. I was Tensei''s only guy friend, it was like we had a special relationship with one another. It was a guy thing we had going on. Something different compared to how Tensei treated the rest." Special relationship? As I''m about to make a crack about special relationships between men, I notice something odd about Delinquent''s statement. "I never noticed another girl outside of the Heroines and Inspector Scott hanging around the Hero while Mr Matsui was present." The Voice rasps in alarm. "Never heard of this Celeste." I comment. This could be it, the identity of the servant. "She was always just around you know." Delinquent mumbles, "Celeste is at the hospital with Tensei right now in fact. Shit. Just thinking about her makes my head hurt." Bingo. That girl has to be the servant. "How did you guys meet this Celeste?" I urge. Delinquent keels forward, as if he''s about to collapse, but he nevertheless keeps talking, "She was .. she was .. doing this petition thing against my family. I wanted to kick her ass, but Tensei persuaded me not to." "Mr Matsui''s heart rate is increasing to dangerously high levels." The Voice warns, "Talking about the servant must be triggering a malicious physiological response within him." "Focus. Stay with me." I grab Delinquent by the shoulders and shake him roughly, "Celeste. Give me her full name." "Celeste is Celeste is Celeste is Celestttttttteeeeee" Delinquent babbles uncontrollably as he begins to foam in the mouth. His body jerks about as if gripped in the throes of an epileptic fit. "Get me something to put in his mouth now!" I shout to Alley, "He''s going to bite his tongue off!" Alley quickly shoves a notebook into Delinquent''s mouth and he starts gnawing away at it like a deranged beaver. Both of us hold Delinquent tight to prevent him from hurting himself while thrashing about. "You did good, Ken." I reassure Delinquent as he flails haplessly, "You did good." "Help me bring him to the nurse''s office." Alley directs as she unlocks the door of her office and assists me in dragging the struggling Ken out. And so we backtrack through the deserted corridors of the Academy, with only the muffled screams of a lunatic for company. Double Life The snow keeps falling around us as Alley and I watch in silence while the paramedics wheel an unconscious Delinquent away on a stretcher. Alley folds her arms nervously around herself, both out of the cold and highly strung nerves, eager to retreat back into the building and to her tiny kingdom in the administrative wing. But morbid curiosity keeps her standing beside me at the entrance of the main building, eyeballing the paramedics hurriedly loading Delinquent into the ambulance before firing up the sirens and racing out of the campus. "I hope Ken will be fine." Alley mutters to herself unhappily. "He''s not." I remark flatly, "I was listening in to the school nurse when she was talking to the paramedics. They were talking about his windpipe sealing shut thanks to the convulsions caused by the seizure." Alley scowls in return as she turns around and heads back into the building, "They''ve got him on an oxygen tank now. Ken''s still alive." "Sure he is. As a retard." I clarify keeping pace with her, "His brain was suffocating while the paramedics were on their way here. Its a lifetime of drooling and staring emptily into space for our Delinquent." On the other side of the coin, Delinquent is not going to be graduating, ever. Meaning his family will never cut him off as he had feared. Say what you like, but the servant certainly has a sense of irony. Delinquent suffered the end reserved for cannon fodder that had outlived its usefulness. Come to think of it, which would had been better for Delinquent? The ironic conclusion the servant brought about or the vanilla bad end that most cannon fodder receive? It might seem a flippant question, but I am honestly flummoxed by the implications. In the normal course of things, Delinquent would have been worn away by the world, gradually sinking into the detritus of society like cannon fodder does, until he becomes a beggar or a bum or something similar. Now, he will be waited upon hand and foot for the rest of his life. As a retard, sure, but you got to take the bad with the good, you know? Alley stops suddenly with an aghast look on her face. She seized me by the arm with both hands and squeezes tightly, breaking my train of thought. "Who is going to explain this to the Matsuis?" Alley hisses, close to panic, "How is the Academy going to tell them that the former heir is now retarded?" Retardo the retarded retard. My mind plays this little ditty as Alley blathers on about retarded people. I lose my composure and begin giggling uncontrollably. "Its serious!" Alley screeches in my ear, "Everyone saw us lead Ken away during the morning assembly. The Academy will point the Matsuis straight at our direction!" "So what?" I shrug, "You work for me and I work with ORPO. Ken said it himself, his family wants to suck up to ORPO now. You think they have the time to stand up for Mr Retardo?" Alley calms down somewhat at my explanation, but suddenly jumps at the implications of what I said. "I am not working for you." Alley pronounces defiantly, arms folded across her chest, "We are through. No more. Clear?" "OK." I agree, "Have fun dealing with the Matsuis. By yourself." Is this the hand of destiny at work? Alley still owes The Voice, so destiny is forcing her into a position where she needs to assist in the quest? How insidious. Alley sighs as she begins to deflate like a damaged tire. Her expression loses all appearance of vigor as it quickly grows flaccid and waxy. Alley really got the message fast this time. Delinquent was cut short while spilling the beans, but he held out long enough to give me a name. A name that the Head of Administration can track. "Celeste." I tell Alley, "I need you to dig through your records for any reference for such a student." Alley nods despondently and we head back to her private office in silence. .... "Transmigrator, I have already run a search through the Academy''s records while you were attending to Mr Matsui." The Voice rasps as Alley busies herself behind her computer and begins typing out commands, "There is no such student attending classes at the Academy. This line of inquiry is a dead end."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Alley looks over the monitor and informs me, "I think I have it. There''s a Celeste that is in the same year as Ken and Tensei. She''s their class representative." The Voice makes an embarrassed noise as it rumbles in confusion. This confirms it, the records and information regarding the servant do exist. The Voice simply cannot see it. An effect of the servant''s power to create Voice-free zones most likely. The printer connected to Alley''s computer spools to life and spits out a set of freshly printed documents which she hands to me. A quick glance tells me these are the Academy''s records to a student identified as Celeste Alakahonie. The photo provided as part of the file displays an unexceptional girl with blue hair and an earnest expression on her face. When I say unexceptional, I don''t mean that this Celeste is bad looking, on the contrary, she easily qualifies as cute or pretty. Its just that she has this generic quality about her, lacking the presence Big Tits has or the truly striking beauty of the Heroines. Its an inoffensive but forgettable kind of attractiveness I suppose. Any man would say she''s hot, but no guy would describe her as their dream girl. Kind of like the Bitch at the office back home now that I think about it. How is she and Wonder Boy getting on these days? Forget about them, I''ve got larger problems to deal with right now. I start scanning through the records and begin absorbing the salient points. Celeste Alakahonie, human-angel mixed race, good grades overall but zero magical aptitude. Just like Gallant. So that explains why the servant has been hiding away all this time. She would get a face broken in any direct confrontation with me. The servant''s only available powers would be the unique abilities she inherited from her ancestor. Father''s an executive veep of a multinational, currently staying in Mumbai II with the mother on work. Celeste got into the Academy as a rich kid then. Brief description of the parents, contact number in case of emergency, blah blah blah. Hold on. "Are you sure this is right?" I ask Alley, holding up the page I''m reading. Alley looks bemused as she answers, "Yes? I don''t see why not?" "The record shows the Mr and Mrs Alakahonie as one hundred percent human." I say, "But their daughter is mixed race. There''s obviously a problem." Alley scans the monitor one more time upon hearing my objection before finally declaring, "There are no amendments to the record that I can see. As far as the Academy is concerned, the information is correct." I stay silent and keep reading. Celeste''s address is listed as the Academy dorms, but there''s a note, stating that she does not actually live there and that its only a mailing address. The reason for that is because her parents rented her a room on campus and the tenancy has not yet expired. I have some answers now, but hardly enough. .... The sea breeze whips across my face as I lean against the SUV while idly sipping a beer. I am back at the slip road by the side of the coastal highway, just above The City''s sewerage outlet. In the distance, I see a large luxury yacht that resembles a warship more than a civilian vessel at rest, exuding a gentle halo from the lights illuminating its interior. A single red signal lantern mounted on the yacht''s exterior blinks hypnotically as the full moon gazes down in silence. Who has the money to buy something that ostentatious? STANDART. The words are painted in large bold letters on the yacht''s side. Look, there''s nothing standard about that vessel. Or maybe its meant to say that the yacht''s sets standards? Or perhaps the ship itself is a standard bearer. Who knows. "I followed your suggestion Transmigrator," The Voice cuts in, "and performed a search not on the name ''Celeste'' but on her personal details that you dictated to me." "You got a result?" I ask while chucking the empty beer can into the sea. "Yes." The Voice confirms, "A very unusual one at that. I still could not find a ''Celeste Alakahonie'' but I managed to track down a ''Celeste Chanellor'' instead, who shares the exact same birthday, eye color and blood type as the Celeste in Unity Academy." The Voice continues, "The information I received also indicates that Paul Chanellor, the girl''s father, was a Host veteran of the Millennium War. The mother, Liza Chanellor is human." "An adoption case?" I muse, "The Academy''s file should have at least mentioned that. Why was this adoption omitted from the record?" "It gets even stranger." The Voice rumbles, "Paul Chanellor had been working as a builder and Liza a clerk. Their financial position was best described as precarious. Celeste Chanellor was in no position to enter Unity Academy. Then there''s the information blackout I ran into." "Information blackout?" I query, "Like the way you cannot see Celeste Alakahonie''s records?" "Yes." The Voice confirms, "There appears to be a cut off date to all information relating to Celeste Chanellor. Once that date is passed, I cannot find any further information regarding her or the parents." "More proof that this Celeste is the servant." I note. The Voice concurs, "Agreed. My theory is that the cut off date is when the servant awakened her powers. She first obscured her activities and then changed her identity after I had been blinded." I swallow hard, "Hey, you think the servant offed her real parents to upgrade and hide her tracks from you?" "Actually no." The Voice surprisingly denies that possibility, "If the servant had her original parents killed, I would be able to track them, since their corpses would fall under my dominion. As a matter of fact, I am confident that whatever happened to the parents, they are most certainly alive." "She could have stashed the bodies in one of Fate''s places of power." I suggest. The Voice hums, "Its possible, but remote. There is also another issue that requires our attention. The protection from the servant''s power that you requested." "I need a sample from the servant herself before I can complete the work." The Sincerest Form of Flattery "Why do you need a sample from Celeste?" I ask, honestly curious, "The SUV resisted her powers just fine. Just use the same process." "Not possible." The Voice demurs, "The SUV blocks the servant''s powers through brute force, being directly connected to my place of power. An Incarnate, no matter how powerful, is nothing compared to the strength of a god. I cannot duplicate the same process in the creation of a more portable form of protection. A more precise countermeasure is what is required." I regretfully tap the side of the SUV. Why can''t anything be easy in this world? "What kind of sample are we talking about here?" I query as I walk towards the edge of the road facing the sea. The Voice rasps, "Something personal to the servant. Such objects are generally marked with the spirituality of their owner. Procure such a sample for me and I can extract the essence of Fate''s mark on the Incarnate." I consider the request as the sea breeze lashes my face. Getting such a sample would be incredibly risky. As I toss The Voice''s request about in my head, I extend my arms to the side, forming a cross in mockery of a famous film involving sinking ships. "And you''re confident that with this sample, you can do your magic?" I say, allowing the words to be carried away with the wind. "Of course." The Voice scoffs, "This is not the first time I will be reverse engineering a legacy of the precursor civilization." Not the first time? Then what was The Voice''s previous attempt at copying Fate''s tools? My features scrunch up in concentration while I maintain my balance against the incoming wind. The Voice laughs, "I can tell that you are curious. Go on, take your best guess. The answer is more obvious than you would think." Its something obvious, meaning I should already know the answer. I can think of only two precursor legacies that are still around and kicking. The Incarnates and the Codex. And the codex is to the best of my admittedly limited knowledge, a truly one of a kind item, impossible for the science of this world to replicate. Would Fate itself count as a precursor legacy? If The Voice was telling the truth about Fate''s origins, the goddess managed to ascend using methodologies developed by the precursor civilization. But Fate is no longer part of this world. Like The Voice, it hides itself away in a divine realm and acts through proxies. Scratch Fate from the list then. The wheels in my head turn as the pieces fall into place one by one. Of course. Its so obvious now that The Voice is literally all but admitting to it. "The Idol." I respond, "She can hypnotize crowds by directly manipulating the soul. A power that is very similar to what the servant does." "Go on." The Voice rumbles, pleased at my conclusion. I close my eyes and let my brain make the final connections, "If anything, the Idol''s power is a pale imitation of what the servant can do. The Idol can just perform a mass stun through her singing. The servant can outright brainwash her targets, even to the point of commanding them to self-harm." Like what this Celeste did to Delinquent. I shudder at the memory of him thrashing about in that brain destroying fit of his. Could the servant command me to the same when I confront her? Get me to annihilate my own mind? I put that thought aside and keep pulling at the thread The Voice had laid out, "Then there''s Magic Police Girl. You once told me that her power is inhuman stamina and resilience. That''s a watered down version of Castiel''s invincibility right there. Both of them even fight using the same weapon. A saber."Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. A grunt of approval from The Voice, urging me to continue. "Then that must mean Brocon is an off-brand copy of Chance." I conclude, "High magical aptitude with an affinity for offensive spells is Brocon''s specialty, if I remember correctly. But Brocon has no access to legendary spells like the Fire of Perdition. And her physical stats are much worse compared to Chance." "Full marks, Transmigrator." The Voice confirms, "The Heroines are copies of the Incarnates. I developed the enhancements the Heroines are outfitted with from fragments of Incarnate data that had been procured over the years." "That''s not exactly a ringing endorsement of your skills at design." I point out, "The Heroines are all much weaker than their inspirations. You have no direct control over them either, unlike Fate and the Incarnates." "On the contrary." The Voice disputes, "Using incomplete, purloined data, I had managed to create approximations of Fate''s greatest weapons. That in itself is no mean achievement. And don''t forget, there can only be three Incarnates per generation. I on the other hand, can mass produce Heroines as long as I am willing to put in the resources to do so." "You can do that?" I start in surprise at this revelation, "Then why haven''t you started cranking them out?" "What good would that do?" The Voice rumbles, "Any new Heroines would need time to biologically mature, making them useless for the current conflict. Not to mention the immense cost such a venture would put me through." I snort, "Meaning the so-called advantage of the Heroines is completely irrelevant and not an advantage at all. Really not feeling much confidence here, boss man." "The point being," The Voice fires back waspishly, "I can do a good enough job working with stolen data that acquiring the sample I''m requesting will yield the desired results." "A good enough job." I repeat the term, completely deadpan, "When you can''t complete the countermeasure despite having enough information to create a watered down clone of the servant." "Yes." The Voice grumbles, "Which part of incomplete data and imperfect understanding don''t you understand? Now will you stop assuming that standing posture you are currently in? It makes you look ridiculous." "Fine. Whatever you say." I smirk at The Voice''s obvious discomfort, dropping the stance, "So what exactly are you thinking of when you say that you need something personal to the servant?" The Voice clarifies, "Biological matter would be preferable. Something like blood would yield a treasure trove of data." "Are you nuts?" I gasp in disbelief while heading back to the SUV, "That''s out of the question. I would almost certainly be caught and shut down. Hard." "A substantial biological sample would certainly be the best," The Voice admits, "but I recognize the fact that obtaining such a sample from the servant would be nigh impossible." No shit, I whisper underneath my breath. "Thankfully for you, I have worked in far less promising circumstances." The Voice crows triumphantly, "I can extract the servant''s essence from other inanimate objects closely associated with her. Like her clothes for instance." I crawl into the SUV and slam the door shut, keeping out the winter chill. The Voice obligingly turns on the vehicle''s heater as I rub my hands with slow, deliberate movements. "Cool." I nod, "Stealing some clothes should be a snap. Except there''s one problem. I don''t actually know where Celeste stays. I can''t burglarize her home if I can''t find it in the first place." The Voice rasps, "Mr Matsui left us a clue before he collapsed. He said something about a Petition. The only Petition Mr Matsui was involved in was the Petition inviting the Host into Six Trees. He made a big show of his opposition to it during the material time." I lie down on the sleeping bag and begin working my tired mind once more. Celeste was and probably still is a resident of Six Trees. She would not have been allowed to sign the Petition otherwise. "You still have the ORPO ID that you spawned for me a while back?" I inquire, "I can use that to get the info we need from whichever authority handles residency information in The City." The Voice considers my suggestion, "The District Registry. The clerks there have no reason to oppose a request from an ORPO officer. I approve of this plan and will bring out the ORPO uniform and identification for your use once more." "Great. We set off in the morning." I affirm while stretching out, preparing myself for some sleep. A sudden thought comes to me. "Does Gallant dream while I sleep?" I throw that question out into the darkness. "Indeed he does." The Voice answers offhandedly, "Why the question though?" "Just curious." I yawn, "Its nothing." Silence. Just as I think The Voice has turned its attention to other things, I receive a rather strange reply. "Mr Gallant not only dreams when you sleep," The Voice rasps, "he lives those dreams to the fullest. He will never wake up, not willingly at least." "Remember that." Waking Dream Being a good person. Its hard. It isn''t cool. But its worth it. I should know. I have a front seat in the Virtual Asshole Experience with the privilege of lifetime admission. The most irritating part of the VAE is that I don''t get a say in when the wild ride starts. The show could begin running when I''m sleeping for instance. Sometimes clips begin to play when I''m in the middle of doing something totally unrelated. Or like now, when I''m on a hospital bed with most of my skeleton fractured and one less eye than I was born with. The doctors probably doped me to my remaining eyeball to keep the pain at bay. And given a choice between the VAE and screaming my lungs out in pain, I would take the VAE any day of the week. At least with the Experience, I know what''s coming. Its the dream that my mind plays on loop where there''s zero provision for interaction on my part. Or as the more academically inclined would call it, ancestor memory. Yeah, I know big words as well. Despite appearances, I''m not a moron. I just act like one. So that I can be the direct opposite of him. I''m trying you know. Trying really hard to redeem his memory. Just doing my best together with everyone. I feel my body drift away along with my staccato thoughts, through the stream of time, being pulled along by the Experience. Here we go. Again. ..... The sound of a gong resounds throughout the execution square and a pair of shackled figures are dragged out of the dungeons and presented before Prince Enma and the Sacred Executioner. The militiamen shove the prisoners to the ground hard, sending the pair sprawling into the dirt. The Sacred Executioner strides forward and eagerly kicks one of the figures, a broad shouldered man, forcing the prisoner to roll on to his back. Dirt mats the prisoner''s blond, curly hair and his once well kept mustache is badly fraying from neglect. Wounds mar the man''s body, evidence of rough treatment at the hands of Enma''s guards. Despite the man''s wounds, he glares at the Sacred Executioner defiantly, heedless of the consequences. "Blackguard." the prisoner says spitting out a wad of phlegm that lands on the Sacred Executioner''s boot, "Come to gloat?" The Sacred Executioner wordlessly stomps hard on the prisoner and proceeds to use the prisoner''s face as a floor mat for the boot. "Defiant as always Sir Castiel." the Sacred Executioner drones in a singularly unimpressed voice, "I warned you when we last met that you would not be able to run." "I will give my life to protect Milad-" Castiel protests but is quickly cut short by the Sacred Executioner''s boot grinding into his face. "No one cares. Both of you are dead anyway." the Sacred Executioner replies disinterestedly, "The other prisoner, she is the one we have been looking for?" Enma smiles deferentially and gives a slavish bow as he answers, "Yes. Princess Anri underestimated our loyalty to the True Emperor. She slithered into my kingdom with her compatriots, and quickly began trying to incite my people into revolt. It failed, naturally." "Naturally." the Executioner confirms and turns to regard the second prisoner. A slim woman is on her knees, dressed in a dusty red gown with a small sack tied loosely around her head, obscuring her appearance and making it impossible to tell her age. Her clothes are in surprisingly good condition given her circumstances, dirty but otherwise well-kept. Neither does the woman display any of the wounding suffered by Castiel. She kneels with her back straight, a stark contrast to the exhaustion that rolls off Castiel''s body. "Why have you hidden her face?" the Sacred Executioner asks. However no response is forthcoming from Enma, who silently stares at Anri in contemplation. The Sacred Executioner cuffs Enma''s head in annoyance and snaps, "Stop ogling the prisoner and answer me. Why is her face hidden?" "Uh, apologies." Enma mumbles, "It was done on the advise of my captain. Guards that had been in contact with Anri would begin to act strangely and well, attracted to her? The sack over her head counters whatever effect she has on them to some degree."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Did you look at her Enma?" the Sacred Executioner quizzes. Enma blushes and turns away from the Executioner while performing a fake cough to cover his embarrassment. He then hurriedly signals a nearby militiaman to bring some refreshment. "She is attractive." Enma sputters, "Beautiful on the inside and outside. Uh, would you like a drink Sacred Executioner? Some wine perhaps?" "Never mind." the Sacred Executioner answers resignedly, "Let''s just get this over with quickly before the Princess escapes again." The young militiaman jogs over with a goblet of wine in each hand, presenting them to the Prince. Before Enma can offer one of the goblets to the Executioner, the black clad man gives a curt shake of his head, turning down the drink. The Sacred Executioner instead raises his double handed sword high and begins to make a circuit of the execution square, kicking off the well established ritual once more. The crowd gives a halfhearted cheer under the watchful eyes of the Executioner''s assistants. Enma downs one of the goblets with a single gulp and returns the second goblet to the young militiaman. The Prince then walks over to the Executioner''s side with the militiaman in tow. "I am not thirsty Enma." the Sacred Executioner says as he completes his circuit around the square. Right on cue, the assistants march towards the kneeling woman and begin dragging her to the center of the pit. A tiny, but growing murmur of discontent drifts through the assembled crowd as Anri is held in place by the assistants to facilitate her beheading. The Sacred Executioner gives one of his signature warning glares, but this time, the crowd refuses to be cowed. The murmurs continue unabated, forming a cloud of discontent that hovers over the surroundings. "How do you do it?" Enma whispers to the Executioner, "How can you behead Anri without hesitation? Don''t you feel in your heart that what we''re doing is wrong? Even the crowd can sense it." "Careful Prince. That talk skirts dangerously close to treason." the Executioner replies, "And the feeling you are currently experiencing comes from your crotch, not your heart." "But still," Enma protests in a hushed voice, "everyone who has met Anri is affected by the same feeling. Everyone, Sacred Executioner. Guards, townsfolk, even my own court. Don''t tell me you that you are not affected as well." The Sacred Executioner turns and gives the Prince a hard look before emitting a long sigh, "I am asexual. All Blackguards are. So no, we do not remotely sense whatever you have been talking about." As Enma makes several uncomprehending sounds at this piece of information, the Executioner scans the surroundings in bewilderment. "Where is the third one?" the Sacred Executioner asks, "There should be a third prisoner." "What third prisoner?" the Prince replies, "There''s just these two." The Executioner waives his hand in exasperation, "Anri had another accomplice. A serving boy. Never mind, we can search for him later once the Princess is dead." Just as the Executioner is about to return his attention to the kneeling Princess, a loud cry tears through the pregnant atmosphere. "Now!" Castiel shouts and with a twist of his wrists, the shackles meant to secure him fall away. The militiamen in the background deliver a war cry and charge forward with their weapons raised, not at Castiel, but at the pair of Blackguards holding Anri fast. In response, the Blackguards release their grip on the Princess and bring their swords up to guard against the sudden, unexpected attack. "Betrayal." the Sacred Executioner hisses as his assistants slash furiously at Enma''s militiamen. Their savage two handed blades cleave through the militia in short order, staining the ground red. Its no contest, but the distraction gives Castiel the opportunity to get Anri to her feet and toss her into the crowd. The crowd surges and gathers around the Princess protectively, hustling her away from the fighting. More militiamen jump into the pit and assemble into formation on Castiel''s side, staring down the Blackguards. A random guard hands a spear over to the knight who grasps the weapon with relish. Confronted by such overwhelming odds, the pair of Blackguards share a look before giving each other a solemn nod. They then turn to the Sacred Executioner, awaiting his direction. "I will allow it." the Executioner says, "Unleash the power granted by the True Emperor. Remind them that every Blackguard is an army unto himself." The bodies of the pair of Blackguards quiver like jelly and a greasy scent begins to permeate the air as they secrete a thick, viscous ooze that pools at their feet. The puddle of ooze grows and grows, swirling and churning with bubbles popping across its surface. Black clad arms begin form from the seething ooze as yet another pair of Blackguards pull themselves out of the impromptu spawning puddle. The new pair of Blackguards emerge fully grown and armed, steam rising from their bodies. Literally fresh from the proverbial oven. As the fresh Blackguards draw their weapons, the spawning pool continues to bubble and vague shapes begin to form once again underneath its surface. A harsh jeering laugh comes from the Sacred Executioner, "We are without number. There will always be enough of us to destroy any threat to the True Emperor." "Just as there will always be enough of us to protect the Princess no matter what you do!" a young man''s voice shouts from behind the Executioner. The Sacred Executioner turns and takes in the sight before him. Prince Enma stands with his hands raised, spilled wine staining his extravagant robes while his mouth is caught in the middle of a silent scream. Behind Enma is the militiaman who had brought the wine, holding a knife to the Prince''s throat. "So that''s where you have been hiding, serving boy." Kingdom of Love "You sure this is the place?" I ask The Voice as the SUV comes to a stop before a low rise residential complex. Located in a cozy nook behind a row of stores in Six Trees District, the development comprises of a set of squat red brick apartment blocks that surround a void deck. The place is not serviced by the main road and to reach it, The Voice had to take the SUV down the maze of side streets. The residences and grounds are well maintained, but there is an overwhelming air of general grimness about the place. Much like a council estate back home. "Yes." The Voice confirms, "It matches the address you had retrieved from the Registry. Why do you ask?" "Celeste got into the Academy as a rich kid." I remark as I holster the revolver and baton underneath my trench coat, "This is not a place where a rich kid would stay." The neighborhood isn''t poor per se, and its certainly far from being a slum, but if I had money, I certainly wouldn''t be staying here. Not much in the way of beautification and the design of the buildings are strictly functional, as if they had been built off a template. Most likely an affordable housing project for lower income residents of The City. Which explains why the residents signed up to get the URI expanded to Six Trees. If the Host bought them out, the value the residents would get from the acquisition would make them rich overnight. The Matsuis and ORPO stood in the way of these guys becoming instant millionaires. Good thing I''m not wearing the ORPO uniform then. I would probably get mobbed and beaten to death if I was spotted here in that getup. "Perhaps the servant''s choice of residence is a matter of personal taste?" The Voice suggests, "There is a concept of certain people being born slaves by nature after all." As I disembark from the SUV, I consider ragging on The Voice for being prejudiced, but then think better of it. Although I hate to admit it, The Voice is right. The Incarnates are literally born as slaves to Fate. The Hero and the Heroines are just the other side of the coin, born to serve The Voice. "Must be nice to be the big gorilla," I grumble while checking my gear one more time, "manufacturing slaves for your own use." The Voice snorts, "Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Transmigrator. With great power comes great responsibility. At the end of the day, the born slaves are the most fortunate of all." "Are you for real?" I shoot back completely dumbfounded while disembarking from the SUV. "Take the Incarnates for instance." The Voice warms to the topic, "They do not need to earn their powers as it is freely given to them at birth. Fate arranges a suitably prosperous lifestyle for them. No need to even think about their futures. How is such a life undesirable?" "They''re slaves." I point out, "The Incarnates are not free to do what they want. Remember Castiel? The moment he wanted to break with Fate''s plan, the chain got yanked." "As it should." The Voice rasps, "Castiel was happy to accept servitude when it suited him but chafed under it when it was no longer convenient. Freedom is not a fundamental right, Transmigrator. To be free would require you trampling over the freedom of someone else." "That''s nonsense. I don''t accept that." I rebut, "Everyone should be free to be what they want." The Voice laughs at my declaration, "I wonder how your co-workers back home would react to that statement. Whether they would allow you the freedom to be, as you say, what you want." I chill runs up my spine as my mouth goes dry, "I don''t know what you''re talking about." "Of course not." The Voice sniggers unpleasantly, "Though as a hypothetical, I daresay that most people would disagree that a middle manager has the ''freedom'' to steal company secrets to barter a better future for himself." "Look, things are more complicated than that, OK?" I hotly deny. "Of course they are." The Voice replies, "Nevertheless, the point stands. You want to be free to be whatever you want, and you are willing to trample the freedom of others to achieve it."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. I remain silent as I trudge up the pavement towards the residential blocks, my ears burning at The Voice''s sarcasm. "I do what I need to do. Period." I say with a tone of finality. How did this become a discussion about me anyway? "This is not meant as a critique of you." The Voice says, "As the people in your world would say, freedom is not free. Still, there are ways to make it more affordable." "Which are?" I huff in annoyance. "Getting someone else to foot the bill." The Voice concludes smugly. ..... Like any council estate, the void deck before me is home to several idle men and women. But what you don''t see at home are the idlers dressed up in cosplay. Instead of lounging about, the idlers are assembled in parade formation kitted out in various mismatched outfits. Most of them are dressed in costumes that look more at home in a low budget school play. The wealthier looking ones wear renfaire style outfits that completely clash with their surroundings. And a few oddballs are standing at attention in worn out military uniform, most likely surplus. Armor, in the loose sense of the word, is worn by the ragtag group over their bizarre outfits. Motorcycle helmets, football gear, wooden planks cut into slats, it all looks very ad hoc and DIY. The group turns to me with glazed eyes and one of the members, a young brat dressed like peter pan, marches towards me, the slats of his plywood armor clacking. "Halt!" the brat says, one hand on the hilt of a machete tied to his belt and the other wrapped around a plastic trash can lid modified into a makeshift shield. Something is wrong. These guys should be avoiding me. As my thoughts whirl, the brat continues flapping his gums. "Stranger, what is your business in the Kingdom of Love?" the brat asks. "Uh, Kingdom of what?" I answer, "Who are you anyway?" "Kingdom of Love!" the brat continues, puffing his chest up, "We are the royal guard, protecting the kingdom. Now declare yourself!" More like retard guard. I don''t say that out loud of course. "I''m just here to visit someone." I say and try to walk past the brat. The brat nods, "I will take you to the Commander. He will decide what to do with you." I don''t have time for this shit. Mind blast. Let me pass. Now. My mental command slams into what feels like a brick wall and the brat''s glazed eyes blink for a brief moment. But there''s an invisible push back from deep within the brat''s mind and my command is completely rejected. The backlash almost sends me reeling backwards and my eyes begin to water. Thankfully, the brat doesn''t seem to notice what had happened and he continues leading me towards his ragtag group of weirdos. A tall, slightly overweight man steps forward to meet us. Dressed in red suit one size too small for him, this so called Commander wears a ratty powdered wig on his head and has his face done up with garish make up. A bush hook rests against one shoulder like a musket and a pair of riding boots polished to the point of near distraction completes the ensemble. "Greetings visitor!" the ''Commander'' cheerfully says, "Sorry for the frosty welcome, but we have to be watchful of strangers these days. Too many dangers about." "Commander, the stranger claims he is here to visit someone." the brat announces with a crisp salute and a stomp of the right foot. That would look more impressive if you sent the military LARPers to meet me, instead of Peter Pan here, but never mind. I just nod in agreement and wait for the Commander to continue. "Wonderful! Not an enemy then?" the Commander grins. Once more I nod in silence, bewildered by the spectacle before me. No questioning, no body search? You''re a pretty shitty commander you know? "What is going on here?" I finally ask, "What enemy are you talking about?" "Of course! Introductions right?" the Commander says, slapping his forehead with his palm, "I am the Commander of the royal guard, at your service." "Your name," I say, literally underlining the word with emphasis, "Please tell me your name, Commander." "I am the Commander of the royal guard." the Commander repeats, a strained smile on his face. "Uh, OK." I sigh, "And the enemy you''re looking out for?" "The enemy is the enemy of course!" the Commander happily responds. How totally unhelpful. "Sure. Whatever you say." I mutter, "Can I go now? I just want to visit a friend." "Naturally!" the Commander cheers, "All you need to do is prove you''re not the enemy!" "And how do I do that?" I query, a sinking feeling in my gut. "The crossing of the customs!" the Commander pronounces jovially. "The crossing of the customs!" peter pan repeats like a dumb muppet. The phrase is taken up by the entire retard guard until the void deck echoes with their voices. "Raise your hand and swear!" the Commander continues, "Swear that you hold love as the highest virtue! Swear that you bring no evil to the Kingdom of Love!" "Pardon?" I mumble while taking a step back. The unhinged enthusiasm of the Commander is really starting to unnerve me. The Commander turns serious, "It is custom for visitors to obey the laws of the land they are visiting. You must perform the crossing before we can allow you to pass." "Fine. Fine. Let''s do this and get it over with." I grumble. "Good." the Commander sighs with relief. However just as I am about to begin the oath, I notice something just under the collar of the Commander''s shirt. A single red thread, looped around his neck like a noose. "Swear! Swear!" the Commander encourages, the red thread tightening savagely all the while. The Commander''s eyes bug out from the pressure and his voice becomes shrill. His lips curl upwards, revealing the gums of his teeth. And all the while, he keeps repeating himself, urging me to swear the oath. "Swear and be welcome to the Kingdom of Love!" Guidance From Above As I stare flabbergasted at the outlandish display by the retard guard''s Commander, a girl wearing a majorette''s costume including the top hat, marches up carrying a drum. The drum begins to trill as the majorette begins to tap it rhythmically in time with the Commander''s urging me to swear the oath. "Could you guys back up a little?" I say while slowly edging away, "Its getting a little cramped here." "Transmigrator, something is very wrong here." The Voice rasps, "I am referencing ORPO patrol records. ORPO had sent a force of their shock troopers and mecha to compel the residents here to submit. None of the officers returned." "C''mon, just swear!" the Commander gasps as the red thread on his throat continues to strangle him, "Its not that difficult, and it would make things easier for everyone!" The majorette marches in place next to us, the relentless tempo of her drum growing. "Unless you''re actually an enemy?" Peter Pan scowls, his hand going back to the machete at his waist, "You wouldn''t have a problem swearing the oath if you got nothing to hide." A dry, wrinkled hand clasps Peter Pan''s shoulder and squeezes hard. An old man, emaciated with age and buried under the mass of football gear clearly sized for a quarterback, gently restrains the youth and nods at me with barely concealed desperation. The old man makes a vague gesture at me with the billy club in his other hand, his eyes imploring me to just take the oath and get it over with. And just under the his helmet''s chinstrap is that sinister red thread, cutting into the senior citizen''s throat. The majorette gives me a nasty look as she moves to my rear, preventing me from backing away from the retard guard, all the while banging away on her drum. That''s when I notice it. There''s no red thread against the majorette''s throat. Neither is there a trace of crimson on Peter Pan. I take a closer look at the other members of the retard guard. There''s a pimply kid dressed up as an adventurer from a fantasy novel. And another girl in some kind of fairy getup complete with plastic wings. And one of the boys LARPing as a soldier. None of them have the red thread on their throats. The same can''t be said for the adults. The Commander and the old man are gasping and wheezing thanks to the influence of the red thread. There''s a middle aged housewife listlessly brandishing a cleaver while trying to stay on her feet. Then there''s a young but working age man with his blond hair gelled and done up in spikes, scratching away at his throat as if it had been afflicted with an invisible rash. "Look, I know how this looks." the Commander holds his palms out while sweating profusely, "But this is really the best for everybody." I didn''t spot any red thread on Delinquent while he was being questioned, but the servant had clearly gotten her claws into him. The retard guard are clearly under Celeste''s influence, but only the adults are straining against the red thread. Does that mean that the teenagers are all happily going along with what the servant wants of them? "Ross," Spikes whispers hoarsely, "Just let that guy through and tell us to disperse. I need to get to work. I need to get to work. Please, let me go to work." "Ah ... ah," the Commander gurgles breathlessly, "I ... I can''t make an exception for anyone, you know that Ty. The sooner our visitor cooperates, the faster you can leave." The old man looks imploringly at me from the depths of his helmet, "Help us out here son. Its just a few words!" "You do this with everyone who visits?" I question the Commander, trying to buy some time to think things through. Peter Pan shouts from the rear, "Stop stalling! Commander, tell us to attack!" This time Spikes is the one who restrains the brat with the help of the old guy. The Commander''s bugged out eyes are by now completely bloodshot as he says, "All visitors must perform the crossing. No exceptions." "No exceptions." the majorette grumbles from behind me, disapproval dripping from every word. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Should I just beat these guys up and be done with it? From what I can tell, none of the retard guard are particularly powerful. I could solo the whole bunch of them easily. But then I remember The Voice''s warning about what happened to the ORPO shock troopers that showed up at this neighborhood. The ORPO officers weren''t just sent packing, they outright disappeared. The retard guard must have some kind of ace up their sleeve that allowed them to defeat trained police officers backed up with mecha. Something the so-called elites of SOPO weren''t able to do. I activate matter sense and probe the surroundings for any clues that may help. And somewhere deep within the estate, I sense something. Abandoned mecha suits piled high in someone''s flat. I feverishly send out probes searching for the bodies of the ORPO officers, but don''t find anything. The retard guard must have disposed of the corpses already. "Your kingdom sits within the jurisdiction of the P5." I protest to the Commander, "You have no right to bar my passage." The Commander smiles uncomfortably but its the majorette that answers me. "This is the Kingdom of Love." she says, "You will follow our laws here, stranger." As she speaks, the drumming grows steadily louder and the spiritual cores of the retard guard begin to pulse in harmony with the beat. Although individually weak, the cores begin to pool their output, creating a field that encompasses the entire void deck. I sense the field exert a gentle pressure against me, not exactly malicious, but certainly carrying an implied warning. Shit. A battle formation, like what the Judecca Militia had been packing. Things might be getting nasty soon. The Commander steps forward and mutters urgently to me, "I can''t hold the royal guard back for much longer. For your own sake, just swear!" "Swear." Peter Pan says. "Swear." the housewife barks. "Swear." Spikes babbles, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. "Swear." the majorette demands. "SWEAR!" the entire retard guard roars to the heavens. The gentle pressure of the spiritual field amplifies to an avalanche of force, taking me by surprise and forcing me to my knees. A sick sensation begins to flow into me, filling me up to the brim. "Transmigrator," The Voice rasps in alarm, "I detect a foreign entity intruding into your spiritual space and feeding you a set of malicious directives. You must resist." Malicious directives? Delinquent going into his epileptic fit comes to mind. Was this how the retard guard dealt with the ORPO unit? Brainwashing them into submission? My head pounds as an influx of alien information is being forcibly rammed into it. Tears run from my eyes as my stomach heaves in protest. My mouth begins to work without my instruction. I quickly clamp it shut and grit my teeth, preventing a word from leaving my lips. The Commander bends down and pats my arm compassionately, "The first time is always the hardest. Go on just say it. It gets easier after that." "Though it never actually becomes easy." I hear the housewife mutter to herself before her breath is cut short by the tightening red noose. I can''t, I just can''t hold it in anymore. My entire body wants to say it. The urge is irrepressible. Every moment of resistance is sheer torture. Curling up into a ball, I close my eyes and hope to ride it out, but no relief comes. My stomach does a violent flip and I puke all over the Commander''s shiny riding boots. "Wow, this is the first time I''ve ever seen anyone put up so much of a fight." Spikes quips but the Commander quickly shushes him. "Its almost over." the Commander says as he gently encourages me, "Just relax and go with the flow." My spine short circuits sending an electric shock running through my entire body. My mouth hangs open, drooling, a mixture of saliva and vomit dripping on to the trench coat. The words begin to form in my throat. Here it comes. "Nyaaaaaah." I wail like a dying cat. And just like that, the impulse driving me disappears. The Voice rumbles, "It appears I was wrong Transmigrator. You are in absolutely no danger at all. Go ahead and swear the oath so we can continue with the mission." "Uh." the majorette looks down at me in confusion, "Was that supposed to happen?" "I swear. I swear to hold love blah, blah, blah." I quickly pipe up, "Just make the feeling stop." "Alright!" the Commander cheers, pumping his fist, "Yet another member of our happy family has joined. We will get our latest brother equipped later once he is done with visiting his friend, but for now, royal guard, disperse!" "About time." Spikes says as he rushes out of the estate, probably to get to work like he had been complaining about. The rest of the retard guard return to the void deck standing at parade rest. Leaving me alone lying on the ground next to a puddle of my puke. "What in the world happened?" I whisper to The Voice, "I clearly felt being compelled to do something, but the feeling passed all of a sudden?" "An advantage of your unique nature Transmigrator." The Voice explains, "The royal guard had managed to implant their commands into your soul, but you resisted most admirably." "Man, I never realized my soul was so bad ass." I smirk while picking myself up. "Oh no." The Voice sniggers, "The commands were implanted without a hitch. That is the reason why the royal guard are no longer on guard against you. It was ignorance, not bad assery as some would say, that saved you." "Pardon?" I mutter as I stumble drunkenly to my feet. "Ignorance." The Voice repeats while stifling further laughter, "Your soul like yourself, is a stranger to this world." "And like most strangers, it doesn''t understand the local language." Communal Loving "Let''s get going." I mutter, spitting out the last of the puke left in my mouth. The servant stays at the top floor of Block B, if I remember the address correctly. As I walk past the retard guard standing in formation at the void deck, the Commander gives me a cheerful waive of his hand. I respond with a thumbs up and a forced look of glee to avoid triggering any suspicions, walking past the retard guard as quickly as possible. Each block in this housing estate has just five floors, surprisingly low density given the fact that this place was meant to house lower income individuals and families. As I approach the elevator for Block B, a group of teenagers dressed in assorted fantasy costumes and wielding various makeshift weapons march down the stairwell, heading towards the assembled retard guard. As the fresh batch of teenagers join the formation, a bunch of adults break away with looks of relief on their faces and head towards a ground floor unit located at the A Block. I punch the call button for the elevator and keep my eyes peeled on the retard guard while waiting for the lift to arrive. The adults that had left the formation at the void deck emerge from the ground floor flat wearing everyday work clothes, not bearing a single trace of their former outlandish getup. These guys quickly scatter, probably to deal with their own personal stuff. "A shift system." I remark, watching the Commander begin marching the retard guard up and down the void deck, probably to break up the monotony of standing around. "Makes sense." The Voice observes, "The adults need to work and the teenagers need to go to school. Taking shifts would allow the royal guard to maintain a minimum level of presence at all times." "They''re surprisingly well organized." I point out, "Completely unprofessional and stupid looking, but yeah, organized." "Dangerous as well." The Voice warns, "It would take a very powerful soul to resist the spiritual attack the royal guard is capable of mounting. Since ORPO is comprised wholly of mundanes -" "The shock troopers would have folded immediately when confronted by the retards." I conclude, "The entire unit must have been brainwashed. I sensed the abandoned mecha earlier, hidden somewhere inside this estate." The Voice rasps, "Civilians would have no idea how to operate the mech suits. Nor did we see any of the royal guard carrying the firearms they would have retrieved from the shock troopers. That likely means one thing." Before I can respond, the elevator announces its arrival with a mechanical ding and the doors rattle open. A strong pungent smell wafts from the lift''s interior and hits my nose immediately, causing me to gag involuntarily. Sighing, I abandon the thought of taking the elevator and head towards the stairwell. Having just puked my guts out, I did not want to chance it again. "Some things never change huh?" I grumble while climbing up the stairs, "You can''t escape people pissing in the lift, no matter which dimension you''re in." "Neither can you escape people urinating in the stairwell." The Voice unhelpfully informs, "Pick your poison." I face palm at this news and after some thought, continue climbing the stairs. The stairwell should at least be better ventilated compared to the elevator. Probably. I hold my sleeve up to my nose and keep moving one foot in front of the other. "So you were saying," I pick up the thread of the conversation once more, stepping around a pile of discarded beer cans and liquor bottles, "you think the ORPO unit is here? That they never left?" "Most likely." The Voice muses, "Being kept in reserve as a secret elite force would be my guess. There would be no reason for the residents to retain the mech suits otherwise." "That''s stupid." I snark, "ORPO would eventually send someone to investigate. The retards can''t keep disappearing ORPO officers forever." "What is going to stop the royal guard from compelling the new investigator into lying to ORPO that they couldn''t find the missing unit?" The Voice points out. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. "Nothing I suppose." I reply as I make it to the top of the stairwell, "Also I''m going to say it again, nobody with money would willingly stay here. A rich kid would never put up with piss in the lift." The Voice remains silent as I stalk down the corridor of the block''s fifth floor, checking the numbers painted above the door of each flat. Celeste isn''t renting the flat in front of me, nor the next one either. From the unit numbers, I reckon the servant snagged herself a corner flat, most probably the one right at the end of the row. As I make my way towards my objective with a leisurely stroll, trying to look as natural as possible, I come across a gaggle of men and women crowding around the entrance of the unit smack dab in the middle of the floor. The group slowly files into the flat and from the noise coming from within, the place is positively packed with people. One of the young women, probably just out of community college with her hair done up in a bob cut, catches sight of me and hollers an effusive greeting. "Oh, hello there!" she says with a welcoming smile on her face, "You must be the new friend. We heard your wailing downstairs just a little while ago." A bespectacled man standing behind the woman tilts his head slightly so that he can join in the conversation as well. "Its difficult to get used to at first mate," the man quips, "but there''s no place better than the Kingdom of Love." Shit, more retards. At least this bunch believes I am one of them. I grunt noncommittally and try to push past the duo, but the massive queue of people in the middle of the corridor might as well be an impassable wall. "Are you trying to get in?" Spectacles asks kindly, "I think we are out of room for this week''s session though." "Next week''s still has plenty of room." Bob Cut informs, "Has the list even been printed out yet?" I give up trying to push past the queue and decide to trade a few words with the couple, just to avoid looking too suspicious. "What''s going on here? What session?" I ask while trying to look through the tinted windows of the flat. No luck. Just inky blackness. "Oh, right. You just joined the family." Spectacles nods sagaciously, "Every week we take communion, celebrating the act of love." I just stare uncomprehending at the man for his thoroughly uninformative response. Bob Cut notices my confusion and takes up the explanation, "Its the weekly orgy. We''re going inside to share our love for everyone, with everyone." I take a few steps back and mumble, "Uh, OK?" "Its more than OK!" Spectacles declares, "Communion is probably the highlight of everyone''s week. I needed to try, uh, quite a few times before my name came up in the raffle." "Raffle?" I repeat dumbly, my mind having completely shut down from the sheer weirdness around me. Bob Cut squeezes my hand gently, "The orgy is really popular. Everyone wants to get a spot, so I''m sorry. I don''t think a new friend would be allowed to join in just like that." "That''s fine!" I shout, pulling my hand out of Bob Cut''s grip, "That''s really fine. You guys go enjoy yourselves, I''ll be on my way now." "I know!" Spectacles snaps his fingers, completely ignoring me, "Even though he can''t join in, our new friend can watch, can''t he?" Just as I am about to protest further, the line for the orgy moves forward and the duo hurriedly shuffle inside the flat. I take the opportunity to dash through the gap in the queue. "New friend! New friend!" Bob Cut chirps, "Come on in later in if you have the time! We''ll be waiting!" I quickly scramble down the corridor without looking back. "The residents here are not retarded, they''re insane." I mutter, "The servant turned the estate into a cult compound." "A mixture of enforced obedience," The Voice muses, "and hedonistic revelry. The servant is likely using these communions to relieve the pressure building within the adults she has brainwashed. Sexual intercourse also builds interpersonal bonds between the residents, creating a more loyal and reliable force at the servant''s command." "Let''s get the mission over with." I say, "This place freaks me out and I want to be done with it as soon as possible." "You''re overreacting." The Voice rumbles disapprovingly, "Naiberg was a far more horrifying opponent and you were not complaining." Before I can respond, a shrill scream tears through the otherwise quiet estate. "Oh gaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwdddd!" "That was Bob Cut wasn''t it?" I sigh while steadfastly looking forward. Remember, don''t look back. Never look back. "Yes." The Voice confirms, "She is currently deployed in what is known as the cowgirl position and lashing her partner with a length of electrical cable, the reasons for which are unknown to me." "Right. Right." I hiss under my breath, continuing to walk until I reach the flat at the end of the corridor. A quick check of the number above the door confirms it, this is the unit that the servant has been renting. "You see anything dangerous inside?" I ask. "No. Unlike the sex center, this flat is not outfitted with cameras inside." The Voice answers, "However, I sense a powerful nexus of spiritual energy within. Be careful." I probe the flat with matter sense and feel movement inside it. Two people as a matter of fact. Guards? "There might be a pair of hostiles." I say, drawing the revolver from its holster under my coat. There''s a dry click as The Voice unlocks the door for me. A gentle push from my hand sends the door creaking ajar, revealing nothing but darkness and the vague shapes of random furniture inside. Its time to do this. Family Love I step into the flat with the revolver at the ready and smoothly shut the door behind me. My eyes strain in the dim interior while I sweep the revolver in an arc in front of me, on guard for any threat that may emerge. From the depths of the flat, I hear indistinct noises, coupled with snatches of conversation. That confirms it, there are definitely two people here. A man and a woman. My eyes continue to scan the living area before me, taking in the surroundings. A TV set. An old leather sofa, imitation most probably. A writing table and chair parked in the corner of the living room. And red thread everywhere, tied to every piece of furniture and to every corner of the room. A man made spider''s web of crimson. My hand cautiously reaches out and tugs at the thread. Twine from the feel of it. The thread is a mundane object, there''s nothing metaphysical or magical about it. "You seeing this?" I whisper to The Voice. The Voice rasps, "The work of a fanatic. You have definitely found the lair of the servant. The spiritual nexus is further within, continue to investigate." "Yeah. It looks like all the lengths of thread seem to originate from a single point somewhere ahead." I confirm, "I''m heading in." Taking the revolver in a two handed grip, I creep forward, deeper into the flat. There are holes that have been crudely hacked into the flat''s wall, allowing Celeste''s unit to merge with the flat adjacent into it. Celeste has also been tying her red thread all over the adjacent unit, clearly laying her claim over it. The servant has been occupying two flats for the price of one. With her neighbors conscripted into the crazy sex cult, there would have been no one willing to make a complaint or bring Celeste''s antics to attention of the authorities. I refocus my attention on the red thread and follow the web to wherever it may lead. "You''re close." The Voice breathes. "I think I''m right in front of it." I remark, ''it'' being a deluxe size toy castle set up right in the center of the flat. A triumph of plastic and glitter, the toy castle is colored a garish pink with rainbow stickers slapped all over its walls. Four spires dusted with glitter tower over the castle itself, each wrapped with red thread that extends outwards to every inch of both flats. The main body of the toy castle acts like a kind of wardrobe, the walls being doors that can be opened outwards using tiny handles which have been bound fast by the red thread. "Bingo. The servant didn''t want anyone opening her toy castle up." I remark, "The spiritual nexus you sensed must be inside." "Secure the nexus." The Voice instructs, "It will provide far more data than a mere piece of clothing." A quick probe with matter sense tells me that the two unknowns are lurking somewhere inside the adjacent flat that the servant had invaded. There''s no telling when either of them will walk out here and stumble upon me. I should deal with the potential hostiles before retrieving the nexus. I dart into the shadows and peek over the corner, scoping out what''s going on in the adjacent flat. The first thing I notice is that the living area has been converted into a sort of playpen, littered with toys and plastic building blocks. Like the first flat, a writing table sits at the corner of the living room, but this time piled high with documents. Sneaking over, I take a gander at the documents and find that its nothing but meaningless gibberish scrawled all over the pages. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Nothing for it but to head towards the indistinct noises lurking ahead. I pass a stained mattress placed carelessly along the corridor, reeking of sweat and stale sex. In fact the closer I draw towards the noises, the more I smell a rank odor in the air. I place my sleeve against my nose to prevent another episode of throwing up and push forward. The kitchen. That''s where the noise is coming from. I swallow hard and ready myself for the confrontation. Core activated. Baton out for stealth take down. Ready to rock. I pounce through the arch separating the kitchen from the corridor with my arm cocked back for a hard swing. Two figures seated at the dining table. I charge forward. Time slows just as one of the figures listlessly turns her head at me. And nothing happens. The woman''s glazed eyes see right through me, not registering the presence of an armed man in her home. She indifferently turns back to the table and places a pair of plates on top of it, alongside the many other plates and dishes already there. The rank smell hits me with full force and I stop my attack as my eyes water. The odor, it must be coming from the table. As my eyes clear, I take in the sight. The table heaves under the weight of a mountain of dishes laden with uneaten, decaying food. Ants, maggots and cockroaches crawl everywhere, helping themselves to the feast. The woman pays no mind to the health hazard in front of her and adds two more plates of food to the heaping pile before addressing her companion. "Breakfast dear." a flat, mechanical voice. Completely soulless. Her companion, an angel with a weak halo and dressed in nothing but a filthy pair of underwear, picks at the rancid food in front of him, weakly shoveling mouthfuls of decay down his gullet. The angel inadvertently scoops up a stray cockroach as he eats and I watch in fascinated horror as the hardy creature crawls out of the angel''s mouth, barely escaping being masticated to death. "Well done, Transmigrator." The Voice says, "You have managed to locate the missing Mr and Mrs Chanellor." "Yeah. They''re completely gone, aren''t they?" I mutter, watching the cockroach play in the thicket of oily hair on top of Mr Chanellor''s head. "Most likely." The Voice agrees, "Prolonged exposure to the servant''s power appears to have destroyed their minds. The only thing left for them is to fulfill the directives the servant had installed within their souls." "Time to go to work." Mr Chanellor announces to no one in particular. He then gets up from his seat and walks towards a go cart in the corner of the kitchen. The angel squeezes his flabby body into the go cart and begins pedaling out of the kitchen, making engine noises from his mouth. "Give me a lift dear." Mrs Chanellor''s robotic voice drones as she sits on the back of the go cart, her unwashed body shedding dead maggots as she moves. The duo pay me completely no heed as the angel pedals his way out of the kitchen towards the living area where the playpen is. Both of them dismount and Mr Chanellor heads towards the building blocks while his wife takes a seat at the writing table. "I am a clerk. I like writing things." the dead voice of the woman informs no one in particular. "I am a builder. I like working with my hands." the angel follows up with a declaration of his own. "I love my husband." "I love my wife." "Crazy. Absolutely crazy." I mumble while shaking my head. Might as well leave the pair of retards in peace. They are certainly in no condition to stop me anyway. I make my way back to the toy castle and set out untying the thread sealing the doors shut. It takes a bit of work, but the red thread gives way in due course, allowing me to open the castle up. "Here goes." I quip, "You ready?" A grunt is the only reply from The Voice I receive. The castle opens with a creak, revealing an interior that has been painstakingly modeled into various rooms. And right in the heart of the castle is the throne room, done up with glitter smeared all over the place. A doll dressed in a red dress sits on a golden plastic throne and at her feet are three figures dressed as courtiers, on their knees in supplication. "Castiel, Enma and the servant." I murmur, "And the queen must represent Fate. This toy castle is a bloody shrine." "The Queen. Its the spiritual nexus I sensed." The Voice informs, "Seize it and proceed to extract." "Not a problem." I reply, "You got the SUV ready to go?" "Ye - hkkkkzzzzz" a blast of static abruptly cuts The Voice off. A sick feeling invades my gut, just like at the hospital. Red threads blazing with spiritual energy cut across the room, no clipping through walls. No. No, I took too long. The servant has returned. Love Slave The flaring red thread, spun by the power of the Incarnate, continues to work its way throughout the flat, sealing it completely against The Voice''s influence. Right on cue, the artificial core sputters out and I feel my strength and senses degrade back to the level of a mundane human. The trusty revolver''s weight grows and my wrist feels the strain thanks to the weapon''s poor balance. I hurriedly holster the baton and shift back into a two handed grip for the gun as I hear the sound of shuffling feet from outside. Multiple shuffling feet, in fact. "New friend is not so friendly after all!" Bob Cut''s sing song chirp comes from down the corridor accompanied by the crack of something that sounds like a whip. I hear Spectacles'' rejoinder, "A very naughty lad! Needs to be taught a lesson!" Shit, the sex club retards are coming for me, no doubt sent by the servant to finish me off while I am vulnerable. A sudden thought comes to me, are the servant''s parents going to jump me as part of the softening up process? I dash over to the playpen with the revolver in hand, just in time to see both Mr and Mrs Chanellor mounted on the go cart, puttering away deeper into the flat, making engine noises all the while from their mouths. I breathe a sigh of relief as the disheveled pair disappear into the rancid darkness surrounding them. That''s two less retards to deal with at least. And I had locked the flat''s door behind me when I broke in. That should buy me some time against the rapidly approaching sex club regiment. I begin retracing my steps back to where the toy castle is, looking to grab the doll representing Fate before any more interruptions occur. I cut through the living area, the cold winter chill drifting through the open front door, as I head towards the center of the Incarnate''s flat. The open front door? Sweat begins to bead my brow. I know I had locked the door. The sex club retards are still down the corridor given the noise they are making. All this can only mean one thing. There''s someone else in the flat with me. Right now. The tide of crimson continues to grow, washing over the entire flat. How am I going to detect the stalker without my powers? I make a full three hundred and sixty degrees turn, my eyes frantically scanning the surroundings. But there''s nothing. Other than the ever growing red, there''s absolutely nothing out of place. My ears strain for the slightest clue, but the only thing I can hear are the animalistic noises coming from the retards outside. My palms are slick with sweat as I turn back to the toy castle. Whatever, grabbing the doll and making a run for it seems to be the best course of action right now. The atmosphere becomes suffocating, the mystic weight of the red thread pressing down against my shoulders. Gasping for breath, I manage to snatch a look at the ever expanding crimson spiderweb. Red, red all over the place. It just keeps coming without end. It keeps coming from somewhere behind me. My mind clicks as the pieces fall into place and I whirl about in alarm. And now that I know what to look for, I see it. A single invisible point, suspended in midair, constantly firing off fresh lengths of thread all over the flat. I recall what The Voice had told me about the servant. It could not see her, despite the fact that the Incarnate was standing around in plain sight. Celeste must have played the same trick on me, but unlike The Voice, I can see her cast her magic even though I cannot actually see the Incarnate herself. My arms swing the revolver into fire position, but my reflexes are painfully slow and not up to the task. A stabbing pain wrenches through my left shoulder and a grisly wound opens up at that location. Time slows as my eyes track the blood staining my coat and the revolver slips through my fingers. An invisible hard push sends me tottering backwards, before my legs completely lose their fight with balance and I fall, landing on my back.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Damp warmth drains into the fabric of my coat, as the bloody stain spreads greedily. A sinking feeling hits me straight in the gut. I''m bleeding out. Celeste must have stabbed me somewhere important. The floating spot gradually draws closer, taking its time. Someone''s feeling confident, the Incarnate probably still believes that I don''t have a means of tracking her location. I mere chance to turn the tables, but I must seize it. As I struggle to get back to my feet, my right hand discreetly closes in on the legs of a nearby stool. Only one chance before I lose the element of surprise, I need to time this right. Let her get close. Closer. Closer. A little bit more. Now! I lash out with the stool in a wide arc and am rewarded with the satisfying feedback of the piece of furniture hitting something, despite my eyes telling me otherwise. As the invisible point plummets to floor level, a bloody knife appears in midair as if it had been conjured by a magician''s trick and clatters to the ground. Wobbling on my feet for a bit, I bring the stool down hard on where I suspect the Incarnate had fallen and this time the response is a meaty thump. As I wind my right arm back for yet another swing, I feel dainty fingers closing around my throat in a frankly insulting attempt at strangling me. Dropping the stool, I turn about and retaliate with a hard shove of my own, sending the Incarnate flying into her precious toy castle. The plastic structure caves in as if it had been hit by an unseen battering ram, scattering the toy furniture and dolls all over the floor. Good thing Celeste has no actual magic of her own. Gallant may not have a killer physique, but he is an adult man. And in a physical confrontation between a high school girl and an adult, the smart money is on the adult. Wincing in pain, I take a moment to stuff the Queen doll securely inside my coat. That done, I retrieve the revolver from the ground and level it at my best guess of the Incarnate''s location. Take her out and I can reactivate the artificial core. "New friend!" Bob Cut shouts in my ear as my face is slapped to the side, leaving it raw and bleeding. I stagger backwards and see Bob Cut, dressed in the leather bondage gear of a dominatrix, swinging a length of electrical cable straight towards me. The cable lashes my forehead, snapping my head back, a steady stream of blood running down the slope of my nose. My eyes go out of focus for a split second, but I quickly register the crowd of gimps and freaks right behind Bob Cut. Outfitted in whips, chains, slave collars, zip up masks and the occasional ball gag, the crowd reeks of sweat and sex, their fetish wear slick with unidentifiable fluids. Caught completely off guard by the monstrous sight, I blindly fire off a shot with the revolver without bothering to aim. The recoil snaps my arm upwards as the gun''s angry boom echoes deafeningly around the flat. There''s a barely discernible groan as one of the gimps slides to the floor trying to hold his guts in. While the sex club backs up, probably taken by surprise by my unexpected resistance, I retreat towards the kitchen where I saw the Chanellors eating just now. Fighting now would be hopeless. Without the core, I have no way of defeating the entire crowd, and that''s not mentioning me bleeding out thanks to the servant''s ambush. The kitchen is just as I remember it. Rank, dirty and disgusting. And most crucially, there''s a filthy window built into the kitchen''s wall that faces the rear of the estate. I quickly undo the latch and open the window, surveying the building''s exterior. The red thread has stopped growing, most likely due to the servant being out of commission. The flat and its surroundings have been completely caught in the Incarnate''s web, but ground level still appears to be outside of the servant''s anti Voice field. No idea how long that''s going to last, and I need to move quickly. Already the Commander of the retard guard and his fellow retards are gathering at the rear of the estate to cut off my escape. Squeezing my bulk through the window, I gather my strength and perform a clumsy dive that carries me out of the crimson web''s reach. A burst of raw power surges through my veins as the core reactivates. The pain of the injuries immediately fade and my senses expand to their augmented level. As I sail through the air, I perform a flip and draw the baton, dual wielding it and the revolver together at once. "Good to see you again Transmigrator." The Voice rasps as my feet land on the ground, the retard guard closing in. "Yeah." I agree, "Good to hear from you too." "Its time to get serious." Escape From Castle Love I square my shoulders and stare down the rapidly approaching retard guard, my hands tightening on both the baton and revolver, ready for action. The air churns with spiritual energy as the retard guard begin prepping another one of their mental attacks. The Commander takes the lead in their formation, jogging at a brisk pace towards me with his bush hook pointed forward like a halberd, with the rest of the guardsmen following closely behind. "I don''t think I can double back to where the SUV is parked." I whisper to The Voice, "It would put me dangerously close to the servant''s area denial field." "Not a problem." The Voice reassures, "When I lost contact with you, I had pulled the SUV out to prevent a repeat of what happened at the hospital. Breakthrough the royal guard and make you way to the main road. I will extract you there." "Sucks to be them." I mutter and settle into a fighting stance, "Is it immoral to hurt retarded people who don''t know any better?" "No more immoral than taking a life every week because you enjoy eating fried chicken." The Voice answers indifferently. "Yeah. And I like staying alive even more than eating fried chicken." I agree. The retard guard begin to fan out as they approach, steadily surrounding me. The majorette marches forward, beating her drum rhythmically, the rest of the retard guard pulsing their spirit cores in time with the beat before unleashing a concentrated blast of spirituality. The torrent of spiritual energy invades my body, but this time, I don''t bother resisting. Once more, I experience the sensation of being filled to the brim with something fundamentally alien, but this time the feeling is coupled with a phantom noise made out of angry, incoherent shouting echoing throughout my head. The majorette continues to pound away at her drum, the tempo rising higher and higher, stirring up the vortex of hostile spiritual energy surrounding me. The incomprehensible shouting in my head rises in volume and a strange compulsion grips my entire body. Its as if I know that I should be doing something, but simply have no idea what that is. "What are the retards doing?" I ask The Voice. The Voice rasps in an amused tone, "I believe they are performing a psychic attack to force you into committing suicide." "Shit. That''s vicious." I mutter and aim the revolver at the majorette, her face locked in an expression of complete concentration with sweat rolling down her forehead. The revolver makes its trademark angry bark and the majorette''s head promptly disappears in a cloud of blood and shattered bone thanks to the sick head shot. The body of the girl totters unsteadily, as if it had been taken by surprise by the loss of its head, before slumping spreadeagled on the ground. The spiritual energies conjured by the retard guard snap backwards like a stretched rubber band that has been released and the backlash sends the lot staggering backwards, with some members being driven to their knees. "How?" the Commander mumbles while nursing a nosebleed, his eyes staring off into the distance. While most of the retard guard are left groaning and moaning from the unexpected setback, Peter Pan draws his machete and rushes at me with his teeth bared and the weapon raised high. Slow, pathetically slow. Peter Pan might as well be moving through tar at the speed he''s running at me. The revolver''s barrel pivots neatly to meet this new threat and the gun thunders again, a bullet slamming squarely into Peter Pan''s torso. The teenager is sent flying backwards with his chest blasted open, crashing into the old man clad in football gear. The pair go down in a tumble, Peter Pan''s blood smearing all over the dusty concrete. The retard guard isn''t really all that dangerous after all. But then again I''m probably selling them short. Its easy to feel good when you''re effectively immune to their most powerful technique. If I was a local, things would have probably gotten ugly, or at the very least incredibly complicated by now. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. My inner musing is broken by a sudden surge of spiritual energy coming from the Commander. Cursing my lapse in attention, I draw a bead on him with the revolver and open fire, but unlike the others, the Commander is fast. His head ducks low, easily evading the gunshot and he scuttles across the ground in a blur. Guess there''s a good reason why the Commander became the commander. The man''s certainly the pick of the the admittedly poor litter. The bush hook thrusts outwards in a practiced motion and the curved blade hooks around my right leg. With a grunt of effort, the Commander kicks off the ground and sends his body into a spin, pulling savagely at the bush hook all the while. I feel the heat of the sharpened curve of the blade as it digs into my leg, the bush hook seeking to tear my limb apart. But between The Voice''s protection and a gardening tool, there''s really no contest. An audible snap comes from the bush hook and the blade snaps into two from trying its luck against an indestructible object. The loss of his weapon completely throws the Commander off his game as he lands on his feet, blinking in surprise and bewilderment, a useless piece of junk held in both hands. As the Commander stupidly opens and closes his mouth, I slam the baton hard into his legs, sending the man crashing down like a falling tree. "No! New friend, mercy, please mer -" the Commander pleads as I raise the leg he had tried to chop off and aim my foot straight at his head. My foot plunges downwards like a pile driver, hitting the man squarely in the forehead and shattering his skull like an egg. There''s a wet squelching sound as my foot extricates itself from the grayish red pulp and the remaining retard guards scramble backwards in panic at the sight of me cleaning my shoe on the Commander''s jacket. "Transmigrator, the blind spot is growing again." The Voice warns, "Stop playing around and escape." From the corner of my eye I can tell that The Voice is right. The red thread is growing outwards from the servant''s apartment, crawling downwards along the building''s wall towards ground level. The servant must be up and about again. I need to move before I''m caught up in the red threads again. I deliver a hard kick to the Commander''s corpse, sending it flying towards the retard guards, causing them to scatter in dismay. Taking advantage of the opening, I bull rush through the group, the red thread snapping at my heels. My feet hammer furiously against the concrete as I rush towards a gap between the buildings that will take me out of the estate. "You are not moving quickly enough." The Voice states, "The blind spot is catching up with you." No shit. I feel the oncoming wave of pressure closing in. The servant is now building her anti Voice field at a much faster rate compared to the previous encounter at the hospital. If what happened at the flat is any indication, Celeste is managing this feat by concentrating her powers within a single designated area, rather than expanding the field throughout the surroundings as a whole. That means if I can''t escape the servant at ground level, I will need to take the high road. I cut hard towards the wall of one of the buildings and perform a flying leap, propelling myself upwards. Grasping the eaves of a window, my arms pump explosively, sending me flying upwards again all the way to the roof, barely managing to avoid the incoming tidal wave of crimson which washes over the lower levels. As the red threads thrash about in a vain attempt at seeking me out, I sprint across the roof to build up some speed, my eyes fixated on the building just next to the estate itself. I let the knowledge buried in the core take over and my body becomes taut with tension, reactions set on autopilot. I lunge forward into a gymnast''s flip and catapult myself through the air, both arms crossed over my chest. The whole world spins as my body slices across the void between the buildings, the dizzy spin causing me to feel like hurling. I swallow down on the unpleasant feeling and keep my focus as the next building draws closer, swinging my legs downwards just in time to manage a flawless landing on my feet. Champion gymnast, full marks. Gold, no, platinum medal. I smile to myself as the self praise floods in. "Transmigrator, the danger is not over yet." The Voice barks in alarm as the wall of the estate''s C block blows outwards, showering masonry on the streets below. From the hole in the building I see the squarish, clanking forms of mecha painted in the colors of ORPO. Brandishing their axes threateningly at me, the trio of mecha fire the jet nozzles mounted on their backs, sending their ungainly bulk sailing through the air towards my location. "That''s another mystery solved." I remark. "Yes, the missing ORPO squad." The Voice confirms, "However they are just a distraction. Keep moving." The crimson web seethes with restless energy and washes outwards, engulfing the lower levels of the building I am standing on. The red thread then wraps itself securely around the building and starts working its way upwards. "Did you program parkour into the artificial core?" I ask while breaking into a run again. "What is that?" The Voice asks totally mystified over the noise of the approaching mechas'' jets. "Never mind." I grit my teeth, "I''ll make do." "After all, its not everyday you get to do something new." Rooftop Rumble I charge towards the building''s ledge at full tilt and cast myself into the air, flying towards the roof of its neighbor. I hear the roar of jets above me, signalling the ORPO mech suits rapidly closing in. Beneath me is the roiling red thread of the servant, winding its way around the building I was on, just a moment too late to engulf my body. My feet slam into the roof of the next building and I drop into a slide, neatly avoiding the metal frame of a bill board that had been installed on the roof. I swiftly scramble back up to my feet and resume running towards the next building in my path, the sound of the jets growing steadily louder. I click my tongue in consternation while performing another gymnast''s flip to make it over the gap between the two buildings. The ORPO mecha may be clumsy and slower than me, but they have the advantage of being airborne. The mech suits can pursue me as the crow flies, without the need to dodge obstacles or perform long jumps. "Additional mech suits have entered the fray, Transmigrator." The Voice informs, "Be careful of ranged attacks." "What are you talking about?" I hiss while darting around a water tower, "ORPO mecha are armed with axes, not guns." Before The Voice can respond, the surroundings echo with the staccato crack of gunfire. Matter sense screams a warning of multiple high velocity projectiles headed my way. The enhanced reflexes provided by the core immediately take over and my body ducks and twists on its own accord, weaving its way through the incoming attack. Bricks shatter and dust is showered all over the place as the bullets slap ineffectually against the walls of the building. Brushing my clothes off, I risk a quick glance behind me and take in the sight of an additional three ORPO mech suits joining in the pursuit. Instead of actually carrying a weapon, these three newcomers each cradle an ORPO rifleman in their arms, allowing the gunners to take pot shots at me from above. "Pretty ingenious." I grumble as I start picking up speed for yet another jump across empty air. "Dangerous as well." The Voice rasps, "The moment you are caught within the servant''s field, the ORPO riflemen will tear you apart with gunfire. Do not stop running, your life depends on it." "What do you think I am doing?" I mutter as I vault over the building''s railing and send myself flying towards the next one. Midway through my flight, matter sense blares another warning of an incoming attack just as the rifleman let loose with another volley of shots at me. Shit, I can''t dodge while I am still midair. The bullets thump all over my body before uselessly pancaking and falling away. But the impacts throw me off balance and I stumble badly upon landing. "You are losing speed." The Voice warns, "The blind spot is catching up." I grit my teeth as another burst of gunfire hammers my back, the added momentum sending me veering towards the side of the building I am on. And to my dismay, I realize that The Voice, if anything, is understating the severity of the situation. The red thread has pooled itself around the base of the building, eagerly beginning its ascent towards my position. With another rattle of gunfire, my entire body is once again peppered with lead, forcing me to drop into a roll to prevent myself from being knocked off the roof. "Transmigrator, the mech suits are right above you." The Voice rumbles, "Prepare yourself." The howl of jets cuts The Voice off and I see the trio of ax wielding mecha descending from above like a guillotine, their weapons raised high. The mecha have arranged themselves in the points of a triangle, surrounding me completely. Reaching terminal velocity of their drop, the three mech suits simultaneously slash their axes downwards, looking to cleave me apart. Sending power from the core into my arm, I deliver a smooth uppercut into the air, my fist squarely intercepting all three blades at once. The whine of servos fills the air as the mechas and my fist engage in a duel of strength. Cracks start to form across the ax blades and with a final push from my arm, the weapons shatter explosively, sending metal shards spraying all over the rooftop. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. The mechas land heavily on their feet, their suspensions groaning from the abuse. My hand shoots outwards and grapples with one of the mecha, slinging it upwards in an overhead throw, right into one of its comrades. Both ORPO mech suits go down in a crash and tangle of limbs, their pilots stunned from the collision. Their remaining partner stomps forward, sending its fist in the direction of my face. I catch the fist with my other hand and hold the struggling mecha in place, while kicking its torso repeatedly as hard as I can. The armored torso buckles inwards from my blows and I follow up with a hard right hook that sends the mecha flying clean off the roof. The pilot however manages to halt his suit''s fall by engaging the jet nozzles and proceeds to hover unsteadily in empty air. I run to the pair of prone mecha piled up on top of one another and drive my fist hard into the duo, all the while surging my core. My fist drops on to the pair like a boulder and the roof gives way around them, opening up into a yawning chasm. The duo, still insensate from the pounding they had taken, plummet down the hole like dead weight, crashing into the apartment below us. "Transmigrator! Hurry!" The Voice booms in consternation. From the edges of the roof, I see the first trace of the squirming red thread pulling itself up. I am almost out of time. Sweating profusely, I notice that the only thing of interest on the roof is a long antenna, roughly double my height, likely used to facilitate mobile transmissions. Wasting no time, I tear the antenna from its mount and begin a headlong charge towards the building''s edge. "Make sure the antenna doesn''t snap!" I shout, stabbing downwards with it and kicking off the ground, performing an impromptu pole vault. I soar how above the encroaching red tide and work my arms desperately, pitching myself off the roof and across the side street. I become a human cannon ball, blasting through the wall of the opposite building in an explosion of masonry and sprawl across a deserted corridor. "The main road is close to the other end of the corridor." The Voice instructs, "Get going before the servant redirects her power." Getting back up to my feet, I begin picking up the pace again, heading in the direction The Voice had indicated. The infuriated roar of jet engines makes itself known again, as the third ORPO mecha barrels through the hole in the wall I had made, charging at full tilt at me. "Damn. You''re persistent." I mutter, throwing my palms out to meet the mecha''s challenge. The mech suit''s bulk hits like a raging bull and I feel my feet skidding backwards from the momentum. "Damavand!" I shout and channel the spell through my arms, arcane pressure jousting against mundane propulsion. Like a car slamming into a concrete wall, the mech suit crumples the moment its hit by Damavand. The jet nozzles blaze even more brightly, trying to bull their way past the barrier of my magic, but all it accomplishes is to crush the mecha like a discarded beer can against my palms. There''s a long wrenching noise as the mecha begins to compact, metal folding and buckling. Blood begins to seep from the odd tears and rents forming across the suit. What a way to go, being pulped to death. The jets finally sputter and die out, causing the mecha to drop to the ground like a stone. I pitch the hunk of scrap metal straight into the wall at the end of the corridor, knocking out a fresh hole leading to the main road. Screams come from below as the passersby take in the sight of a bloody, trashed mecha erupting from a nondescript wall. I step out of the new gap in the wall and drop down to the pedestrian walkway by the side of the main road. A crowd of people have gathered around the ORPO mecha, which had landed in the middle of the walkway. Close by, I see the SUV making its way towards me along the main road. "Transmigrator, the ORPO shock troopers are falling back." The Voice announces in relief. What? Why though? I turn back and sure enough, I see the remaining trio of mecha flying back to the Kingdom of Love. Then I see the answer. The red thread had chased me all the way through the corridor and is now snapping furiously at the edge of the hole in the wall. But there is no attempt by the red thread to continue pursuing me. Its as if an invisible border is preventing the chase from continuing. "We are at the limit of Celeste''s range, isn''t that right?" I ask. "Most likely." The Voice agrees, "The blind spot shows no further change in size or scope. The servant is probably unable to expand it any further." "And the ORPO shock troopers know they''re dead meat without the servant''s support." I grin while walking to the SUV, patting the doll secured under my coat. "Spot on." The Voice confirms, "Now return to the SUV with the nexus." "There is much that still needs to be done." Buyers Remorse "You look lovely Irene." Rose says sweetly with a gentle smile on her face while looking on at Irene dressed resplendently in a white wedding dress, "Isn''t that right, Tensei?" I nervously nod in reply, careful not to provoke Rose unnecessarily. Rose might look happy right now, but I have lived with her under the same roof for years and can tell when she is faking it. The smile on Rose''s face does not reach her eyes and her hands occasionally fidget, playing restlessly with the buttons of her blazer. Rose had always exuded a standoffish air, but today she has taken it to another level. Clad in a stern black pantsuit which nevertheless accentuates her figure combined with the polite but plastic demeanor, I can almost feel the frost radiating of Rose''s body. Uncle''s butlers that are accompanying us discreetly look the other way, not willing to get involved. A look that is a combination between an uncomfortable grimace and a bitter smile flashes across Irene''s face before she manages to smooth her expression out. The wedding planner, a bespectacled and otherwise unremarkable middle aged woman, claps her hands silently as she marvels at how well Irene carries off the wedding dress. "Young master von Amsterg," the wedding planner congratulates, "You are a very lucky man." Rose''s brow clouds over with a black look and she asks the wedding planner, "What do you mean by that?" Crap, Rose''s temper is up and she''s probably spoiling for a fight. I hurriedly signal to the wedding planner to dodge the question to avoid riling Rose up any further, but the oblivious woman barrels on heedless of the catastrophe lying in wait. "Your brother is taking such a beautiful woman as his wife." the wedding planner gushes, "Talented too. Isn''t that lucky?" Rose''s smile finally wavers and she looks as if she had swallowed an entire pitcher of lime juice without sugar. I quickly clasp Rose''s hand in an effort to calm her down, but she shakes me off with surprising strength, her eyes locked venomously on Irene. "Yes, so talented that my brother''s ''wife'' had to take refuge with our family after being driven out of her job." Rose sneers with such concentrated derision that I can sense the figurative air quotes being thrown about. "And I am grateful for His Grace''s support." Irene answers plainly, without any inflection in her voice, but I notice a clenched fist trembling with rage. "And beautiful. Of course she is beautiful." Rose continues as if she had not heard Irene, "Its easy to be beautiful when someone else has paid an atelier to design a made to measure wedding dress just for you. By the way, is there a corset under all that lace?" Irene flushes and looks imploringly at me for support. But before I can get a word out, Rose gives me a hard glare that sends a dagger stabbing straight into my heart. Rose is my family and Irene is going to be my wife. Why can''t we all get along? Why must I be forced to pick sides? Uncle summoned me the moment I was discharged from the hospital. The next thing I know, I''m going to marry Irene. Not that I don''t want to, Celeste had persuaded me that its the right thing to do. But things are moving too fast. What am I supposed to do with Sera and Kira? Sera''s being hunted by ORPO and her father''s dead. Kira''s career as an idol is over ever since the tabloids published what had happened between us. Both of them have no place to go. So am I supposed to just keep Sera and Kira in the mansion? I suppose I could do that, Uncle indicated that he didn''t care one way or the other, but that doesn''t answer the real question that has been nagging at me. What am I supposed to do about Rose? I feel that something has changed between us, that there is some kind of unfinished business in our relationship that I need to take care of. But the marriage, Irene, Uncle, everything in general is sweeping me away. Things are going out of control. I''m just going along with the flow, even though I know that its causing me to lose sight of what is important. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. And don''t forget the duel against Nicholas. Whether or not I can provide for Irene, Sera and Kira all depends on me winning the duel. The stress, the responsibility, its too much. I was just enjoying the peaceful days at the Academy, then I got swept up in an adventure. How did the adventure turn into something like this? I can''t take it anymore. I can barely keep my head above the proverbial water right now, much less support Irene. I close my eyes and hang my head low, and all I hear from Irene is a disappointed sigh. I wish Celeste was here. No one quarrels when Celeste hangs out with us. Everyone was happy. I was happy. ''The gown fits." Irene dourly tells the wedding planner, "Help me remove it so that we can move on to the next item." The wedding planner gathers her wits and responds, "Of course. The next on the list is the fitting for the young master''s suit." "The butlers will handle that." Rose declares, "You help Irene with the wedding dress." I feel the butlers nudge me by the side and I silently allow myself to be marched to the fitting room, like a prisoner being led to the lockup. ..... I examine my reflection in the full length mirror. The suit looks good. Like Irene''s gown, it has been made to order, just for the occasion. I feel the texture of the fine, expensive silk and marvel at how the clothes effortlessly hug my figure without feeling stifling. As I prepare to put on the cuff links bearing the von Amsterg crest, a knocking on the fitting room door breaks my concentration. "Come in." I say noncommittally, my attention fully on the task of wrangling the cuff links on. Who knew that these little things could be so fiddly? The door opens and to my surprise, its Rose who steps into the fitting room. She gazes at me critically before finally making a noise of approval. "The suit looks fine at least." Rose murmurs, a complicated expression on her face. "Its all thanks to you." I quickly praise to avoid getting into another fight, "You''ve done great at arranging for the whole wedding." Rose folds her hands across her chest and scowls at me, "Not like I had much of a choice right? Father told me to do it, so I''m doing it." Its not working, Rose clearly has a bone to pick with me. I''ll need to bite the bullet otherwise we will never get to the real issue at hand. "Is something wrong?" I nervously ask. "No, how could anything be wrong?" Rose responds with a transparently fake smile plastered on her face, "After all, Tensei is about to get married. What a happy day." Before I can say anything, Rose continues in a sing song voice dripping with sarcasm, "And Tensei''s also getting two mistresses in the bargain. Is there anything wrong with that? Does Tensei think that anything is wrong?" "Uncle said -" I blubber before Rose delivers a hard slap across my face. "Don''t blame this on father." she snaps, "This is all on you." I merely lower my head at Rose''s denunciation. "But that''s fine." Rose says, "I''ve made my decision. I am going to do what needed to be done a long time ago." In a single burst of action, Rose forcefully shoves me to the ground and straddles me as I fall flat on my back. "What are you doing?" I cry out, "Irene, the butlers, they''re just outside!" "I sent them to select the cake and decorations." Rose scoffs, "And even if they are, so what? People are always getting in the way when I want some private time with you. I''m through with caring about appearances." "Celeste!" I blurt out in a rush, "Celeste might come back at anytime, she said that she would before she rushed off, remember?" "That lousy busybody." Rose grumbles as her slim fingers fumble with my belt, "Anyway, she''s not here now, and that''s all that matters." "Rose, please, don''t do this." I plead, "We''re family, remember?" Rose delivers another sharp slap across my face and whispers in my ear, "Your lips are so dishonest Tensei. How am I supposed to believe a word that comes out from them?" A tingle of warmth spreads as Rose''s tongue probes my earlobe. I groan with suppressed ecstasy. This is obviously wrong, but then why does it feel so right? A low, throaty laugh comes from Rose, "Your body is honest at least. That''s something I can believe in." "But, but, Irene and Sera and Kira!" I blubber, blinking the tears from my eyes. A final attempt at seizing back some form of control from Rose. "I''ll deal with them in due course." Rose snarls, "So don''t worry about it. For now, just like back and take it like a man." My body trills with Rose''s words and literally begins to tremble in anticipation. No stop it! Nothing that is happening now is right. How is it possible for my body betray me? How could my own family betray me? "No, stop, I don''t want this." I murmur, turning my head away as my voice trails off. Rose grunts in satisfaction as she finally manages to pull down my pants, "Well, who cares what you want, Tensei? You never cared when the shoe was on the other foot." "Now lets get started." True Rebirth "Smartass, could you explain why the other day multiple witnesses saw you engaging in a fight with my officers across the rooftops of Six Trees District?" Hernandez''s hoarse voice accuses me over the earpiece. I lounge on the asphalt and stretch my back, savoring the pops of tension being released. The Voice had chosen to park the SUV back at the side road facing the sea just above the sewer outlet on the reasoning that hardly anybody bothers to go there. It might be an inconvenient location situated in an awkward spot between two districts, but it would provide us with some peace and quiet, something The Voice very much desires at the moment. Ever since I brought back Celeste''s doll, The Voice had been working non-stop researching it and developing a countermeasure. I wanted to ask how it could research something that had just been stuffed into the SUV''s glove compartment, but I suppose that could be chalked up to a god moving in its mysterious way. The Voice was apparently now working on the final phase of the project, crafting an armor upgrade for me that would counter Celeste''s power. It wanted the SUV to itself for the most critical portion of the process so I had been kicked out and left to cool my heels by the sea. Hernandez''s call was a welcome break from the enforced monotony. "I was investigating this sex cult that had set up shop in Six Trees. Its where a squad of yours when missing by the way." I explain, "I had to make a quick getaway after I was discovered." "Sex club? What sex club?" Hernandez bursts out, "How come I''ve never heard of anything like this?" "Sex cult, not club." I muse, "Though, yeah, there was a sex club on the premises as well. Had whips and dominatrices and everything." "WHAT SEX CLUB." Hernandez shrieks through the line, his grasp on reality collapsing. "Sex cult. Cult. C.U.L.T." I clarify, "The one those ORPO officers were part of. The moment I was discovered, they came at me with guns blazing." "Alright. There was a sex cult. Let''s say I believe you." Hernandez sighs, "What did you do to provoke my officers into attacking you? And don''t say nothing, I know exactly what you''re capable of." "I broke into an apartment as part of my investigation and got cornered by a knife wielding assassin backed up by a pack of dominatrices and gimps." I say with the utmost sincerity. A long silence is all I get in return. Man, this silent treatment is really uncomfortable. "I might have accidentally shot one of the gimps during my escape." I elaborate, more to alleviate the sense of unease than anything else. More silence. "Uh, and I killed a few more people on my way out." I conclude. "Oh, right that makes sense." Hernandez finally replies, "You killed a few people on your way out. Right?" "Right." I confirm. "Just like I would take a leak on my way out of the station." Hernandez continues, "Or I would fill up my car with gas on my way back home." "Uh, yeah, I suppose?" I mumble, confused where Hernandez is going with this. "Yeah. OK. I get the message." Hernandez says, "I''m hanging up now." The line goes dead as Hernandez puts down the phone. "That was weird." I mutter, "What was his deal anyway?" The Voice rasps, "Who knows? Perhaps he got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Or the Commander''s daughter failed one of her classes. The Commander''s distress has nothing to do with you anyway." I sudden thought comes to my mind while I am getting up from the ground, "Hey, be straight with me here. I''ve been seeing assholes in the whole time I''ve lived in this world y''know?" "And?" The Voice rumbles. "And I was thinking," I continue while scratching my chin, "maybe, just maybe, I''m the asshole?"The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Certainly not." The Voice scoffs, "The task you have undertaken exposes you to a greater statistical likelihood of meeting unpleasant individuals. I can say with certainty that the fault does not lie with you." "Woo, that''s a relief." I give a weak cheer. "You are the sanest man I know in an insane world." The Voice affirms, "It takes strength to live the way both of us do." "Great pep talk." I smile, "So you''re done with whatever you''re doing?" "Indeed." The Voice confirms, "Not a moment too soon as well. You know what is about to happen, right?" I lift up the glossy gossip magazine that I had been carrying under my armpit and gesture at the SUV. WEDDING OF THE CENTURY is printed on the front page in big bold letters. No prizes as to guessing whose wedding the paparazzi are talking about. Apparently this bunch managed to get an exclusive deal to cover the Hero''s upcoming nuptials. "The Hero''s wedding. Its coming up soon." I frown, "We don''t have a lot of time to stop Big Tits from ruining everything." "Agreed." The Voice rasps, "Unfortunately, the servant has recovered from her scuffle with you at the council estate. She has stuck to the Hero like glue, preventing me from monitoring their whereabouts." "Meaning we can''t intercept either of them." I remark, "We don''t know where they are at any given time or how much backup they have. But there is an event both of them have to attend." "Correct. The wedding." The Voice agrees, "The servant and the Hero cannot evade us during the wedding itself. That is the moment you must intervene. Which leads you to a choice." "Choice? What choice?" I ask, taken by surprise by the sudden shift in the discussion. "There are two ways to resolve the problem before us." The Voice elaborates, "First is to simply cut off the head of the snake. Killing the servant will enable the Hero''s systems to perform an automatic reset of the installed objectives, purging the malicious directives from his soul." "The Hero can do that?" I ask rather surprised. Its the first time I''ve heard of this. "I just found out about this as well." The Voice says, "After the servant temporarily separated from the Hero in order to eliminate you, the Hero began to refocus himself on his actual mission and was scrubbing himself clean of the servant''s instructions. His programming has proven more resilient than I initially thought." "But Celeste came back," I finish the story for The Voice, "and gave the Hero another dose of brainwashing." "Yes. So the destruction of the servant will enable the Hero shake free from her malign influence." The Voice rasps, "Unfortunately, that leaves us with a second problem." "Which is?" I ask. "The termination protocol. I need physical access to the Hero to disable it." The Voice rumbles, "Transmigrator, the Hero''s power is declining at a dangerously fast rate. Currently, he is absolutely no match for Marshal St Clair. Given a few more weeks, Nicholas will be able to easily best him." "Damn it." I curse. "You see the problem then." The Voice confirms, "That leads us to option number two. Instead of engaging the servant, you will instead abduct the Hero and cover the SUV''s escape. This will allow me to perform a system upgrade on the Hero, temporarily deactivating the termination protocol and hardening the Hero''s core programming to prevent further tampering on the part of the servant." "But the servant would be out there running loose." I protest, "Can''t I do both missions at the same time?" "Fate knows that we will be making an appearance at the wedding." The Voice grumbles as it shoots down my suggestion, "I expect heavy resistance. By my estimation, you will only have an opening to execute one mission, no more and no less." "I need to think about this." I murmur meditatively. "Do so. I sense that this is a pivotal moment in our quest." The Voice says agreeably, "In better news, I have completed your new armor, as well as an upgraded weapon in the bargain." The boot of the SUV pops open and I rush forward to feast my eyes on the awesomeness The Voice has been working on. I am left sorely disappointed. "Its just a black trench coat. And black boots. And black gloves." I point out sourly, "How is any of this going to help against Celeste?" "Your ignorance is showing again." The Voice huffs, "The fabric has been specially treated to block Fate''s power thanks to the data we have retrieved. Put the armor on, I need to see if it fits." "If you say so." I hum, picking up the trench coat, "Whoa, this stuff''s surprisingly heavy. Part of the treatment process?" "Yes. Put every piece of the armor on if you will." The Voice says, "I need to see the entire ensemble working together." "Hey, there''s a full face hood here with no air holes." I protest, "I would suffocate in this getup. And you expect me to loop an actual noose around my own neck?" "The armor is a set. It needs to be worn together to achieve the desired protection." The Voice soothes, "Just wear it. You will get used to the feeling in no time." "Alright. Alright." I mutter and begin putting on the hood. Its a little hot, but The Voice is right, I''m nowhere close to suffocating. The noose hangs loosely from my neck and I tuck it under the trench coat. On goes the black boots and gloves. And right at the bottom of the boot is a massive double handed sword. I cautiously pick it up and unsheathe it, marveling at how light the weapon is despite its size. "Finally, something that can do some damage." I smirk, "About time you started breaking out the good stuff." "I am happy that you are pleased with the weapon upgrade." The Voice rumbles as I sheathe the sword and fasten it on to my back. "I can confirm Transmigrator, that you look ''cool''." The Voice makes a sigh of pleasure. "Never knew you were into anime." I complain, "These clothes look like something an executioner in a cartoon would wear." "Executioner, yes." The Voiced rasps in near rapturous ecstasy, "That would be a fitting description for the look." "Sacred Executioner." A Change Of Heart "Do it Enma!" the serving boy shouts, "Tell the rest of your guards to join the fight for freedom!" The scent of death begins to overwhelm me as the blade held by the servant painfully digs against my throat. The Sacred Executioner stares at both of us remorselessly while in the background, the other Blackguards rush the rioting crowd with their swords. Already the corpses have been heaped high thanks to the relentless advance of the Blackguards, with more and more of them being spawned and crawling out of the execution pit. The Sacred Executioner is right. No matter how many of my guards and citizens rebel, there will always be enough Blackguards to handle the threat. There is no hesitation in their attacks, no doubt in their movements. Whatever Anri does to influence others, it has no effect on the Blackguards. Already the rioters are beginning to waver. They know victory is impossible, and that this will only end one way. Castiel leads another charge into the Blackguards, impaling one of them with his spear, but the replacement simply dashes aside his fallen colleague and drives Castiel backwards with wide, savage swings of his sword. My militia flood the area but halt, confused at the sight before them. They look to me speechlessly for directions and I swallow hard, sweating profusely at the pressure directed at me. "Surrender." the Sacred Executioner flatly tells the serving boy, "Our numbers are without limit. No matter how hard you fight, defeat is inevitable." "Then what?" the serving boy demands, "Go back to living under your Tyrant''s boot? Let the Princess die? What kind of choice is that?" "Living under the True Emperor''s peace is infinitely better than dying in a doomed war." the Sacred Executioner taunts, "Or do you think this will end in any other way?" "We will not be slaves!" the serving boy rebuts, his arm squeezing my neck tightly. "Please just let me go." I whimper, looking desperately at the Sacred Executioner and my guards, but the serving boy pastes himself even tighter to my body, making it impossible for anyone to take a swing at him without injuring me as well. A long dying shriek breaks out from the crowd as the Blackguards continue hacking them apart. The spirit of the rioters, already at a knife''s edge from the casualties they have been taking, collapses and a stampede begins as my citizens try to escape. They trample over each other in the mad rush to get away while the Blackguards charge them from the rear, throwing the rioters into further chaos. Castiel and the surviving traitors from the militia form an ad hoc rearguard, throwing up a last ditch defense to prevent the Blackguards from overrunning the rioters completely. "No, you won''t be slaves." the Sacred Executioner remarks smugly, "You will just be dead." "An unjust peace is better than a just war." I plead to the serving boy, "Stop this. Tell my people to stop fighting so that we can all keep living." I hear an uncomfortable sound come from the serving boy and press the argument, "You can find happiness while spending a lifetime kneeling. But when you''re dead, that''s it. Don''t doom my people. Give them a chance to live. Order your compatriots to surrender." "You sold your own people out to these monsters." the serving boy growls, "I can never accept that." The knife digs deeper into my flesh as the hostage taker continues, "If it was just me, I would kneel in an instant. Submitting to a king or the True Emperor, its all the same. But that was before I met the Princess." "She would perish, you know?" the serving boy mutters, more to himself than anything, "Living in a world without her, I cannot let that happen. It would be no different than dying." I swallow hard as the serving boy prattles aimlessly while the militia and the Sacred Executioner begin to slowly draw closer. Help is at hand. I just need to keep this idiot talking. "The cure for losing a woman is getting another woman. Plenty of those around." I reassure while feeling more confident. So this is what the serving boy''s hang up is all about. First love, probably first woman he ever banged as well. For all his big talk, the serving boy is just a child at the end of the day. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I feel the serving boy''s ragged breath brushing against my ear. He''s wavering, I''m sure of it. Just one more push should be enough for him to set me free. "You can have your pick from my harem once this is over." I offer, "Ample compensation, am I right?" "No!" the serving boy roars, something within him snapping completely. The knife lifts from my throat and slams hard into my gut. Blinding pain fills my being as I look down in morbid fascination at the crimson blossom spreading over my robes. "Tell your men to attack now!" the boy screams in barely coherent outrage as the knife moves in slow motion back towards my throat. He means it. He wants to kill me. I''m going to die. I''m going to die. I don''t want to die. "Attack the Blackguards!" the words spill out of my throat without further prompting, the spirit of self preservation riding me hard. At my command, a wave of arrows is launched at the Sacred Executioner, who curses audibly while whipping his sword about to deflect the incoming projectiles. The serving boy throws me to the ground and lunges forward at the Sacred Executioner, his knife thrusting forward at the Executioner''s heart. Unable to bring his sword around in time, the Sacred Executioner instead grabs the boy by his outstretched wrist, forcing away the approaching blade. With a single motion, the boy lashes out with the ball of his foot, making contact with the Executioner''s groin. To absolutely no effect. "There was never anything there." the Executioner smirks behind the hood and roughly shoves the boy into the dirt. The rush of oncoming militia attacking the Executioner blocks my view of the fight and I take the opportunity to stumble away while holding my guts in. Damn it. Damn it all. ..... I shove a chair against the door of the castle''s infirmary, barring it shut and turn back to ransacking the cabinet of medical supplies. No bloody doctor was here when I showed up. Why do I pay these morons anyway? Never around when I need them. The various drugs and surgical instruments make no sense to me and I am constantly reminded by the burning sensation in my gut that I am bleeding out. "Shit!" I shout in frustration and shove the cabinet over in a fit of catharsis, spilling the contents all over the floor. A number of glass bottles within smash open, their contents making a complete mess everywhere. I finally content myself with a crude binding made out of cloth bandaging my wound. It will have to do until the doctor decides to actually show up. The view from the window tells me everything I need to know. The Blackguards have broken out of the execution square and are rampaging throughout my city. Patches of fire set by the Blackguards ravage blocks of buildings, forcing out the defenders to be slaughtered. The battle is still going on since my order to the militia to join the fight has given the rebels a second wind, but the Blackguards are advancing regardless of the resistance they face. From the window, I can tell that additional Blackguards are still being spawned at the execution square, a constant stream of reinforcements marching off to join their comrades in the fight. Its over. Its all over. The Sacred Executioner will never let me off for what I have done. I shouldn''t be wasting my time here in the infirmary. I need to get to my chambers and gather up as much gold as I can. Then I''ll flee. Go into hiding until this whole fiasco dies down. I will survive this disaster and bounce back from it, no matter what. My mind made up, I begin to make my way back to the door when suddenly, the blade of a sword cleaves it apart with the splintering of wood. A hard kick smashes the remnants of the door apart and sends the chair bowling towards me. I duck to the ground with both hands covering my head and see a familiar figure striding through the wreckage of the door. "Sacred Executioner, I can explain." I say holding my hands up, hoping that he will listen. "Traitors die in shame, Enma." a dull pronouncement, a stating of fact, as the sword rises, ready to decapitate me. I close my eyes, waiting for the blade to fall. But nothing happens, There is an agonized gurgle, and the next thing I know, a short sword is sticking out of the Sacred Executioner''s chest. His hands hang loose, sending the double hander clattering to the ground. The black clad figure slumps forward, completely lifeless, face planting on the floor. And standing behind the Executioner is a figure in a red dress, nervously carrying the short sword with both hands. "Are you alright?" a gentle, delicate voice asks. Radiance. That''s all I see. Her face, her features are indescribably beautiful. Its like the sun had entered the room, driving away the darkness. I can''t look at her. I''m not worthy of looking at her. Dainty fingers prod my wound eliciting a moan from my lips. Pain? Pleasure? Does it make a difference when she is around? In the distance, I can hear her rummaging about the infirmary for something. "Please hang on." her voice says, "I''ll treat your wound." I feel the cool relief of medicine being applied, putting out the burning heat in my gut. "Why?" I whisper, "I wanted to kill you." "We all make mistakes," she comforts, "but our mistakes don''t define who we are. I can sense you''re not a bad person at heart." That''s right. I''m not a bad person. I was forced into doing what I had done. Slender fingers wrap around my own as the she continues, "So let''s be friends and do our best together, alright?" Tears spill from my eyes. How can anyone forgive so easily? She has to be a saint, not a princess. A saint, sent to save us all from the True Emperor. I nod eagerly at her. Yes, let''s do our best together. Let me do my best for you. Only you. Forever. Path and Destiny "Are you listening to me Chance?" the annoyed voice squawks from my mobile, rousing me from the waking dream. My eyes water for a moment and I find myself back in the present. This is bad. Ever since my last fight with Gallant, the dreams have been getting more and more intrusive. I''m now having them not only during idle moments, but also when I am up and about actually doing something. There''s a knot of tension building somewhere deep within me, urging me to take action. To finish things with Gallant once and for all. "I sent someone to check on you at the hospital," Siobahn continues over the mobile, "and they told me that you had just walked out without telling anyone. What in the world are you thinking?" I scratch my eye patch, and the sensation of ants crawling all over the empty socket eases a little. My remaining eye takes in the sight of a large stage being set up right at the main entrance of the von Amsterg manor, accompanied with rows of seats in front of it. Kirarin paces about restlessly on the stage itself while workers begin installing sound equipment and lighting to all around her. At the base of the stage is Siobahn herself, her stiff gait looking even more uptight than ever and her face twisted into an unpleasant grimace as she lectures yours truly over the phone. I quickly duck back behind the row of rose bushes before Siobahn catches sight of me. If she finds me here, it would ruin everything. "I just needed to get some fresh air boss." I say, "I''ll be back in the hospital before you know it." "Fine." Siobahn grunts, "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about something that can''t be put off any longer." "Go on." I reply while slinking through the bushes towards the side of the manor, scoping out the place as thoroughly as I can. "You''re fired." Siobahn announces, completely without preamble. "Uh huh." I answer, expecting something like this. I may play the fool, but I am far from stupid. The whole thing with Daffyd had placed a huge strain on my relationship with Siobahn. It was only a matter of time before she decided to cut me loose. "I said, you''re fired." Siobahn repeats, with greater emphasis. "Yes. I heard you the first time." I shoot back, completely unconcerned. Truth be told, ever since I realized Daffyd had become what he is now, I had been hoping to be released from Siobahn''s service. At the end of the day, Siobahn would always balk at taking the final step. She would turn away from doing what needed to be done. "I''ll be settling the hospital bill," Siobahn continues, "and depositing in your account the final drawn salary with us." "But after that I''m on my own, right?" I mutter back distractedly too engrossed with reconnoitering the grounds of the von Amsterg manor. "No. We should have a final meetup to iron out any loose ends and perform a handover of duties to your successor." Siobahn clarifies. "You''re going to keep ORPO at bay until I leave The City?" I query, mentally confirming that my knowledge of the manor''s grounds is accurate. Silence is all I get with Siobahn. She must think that I''m an idiot. Scratch that, everyone thinks that I am an idiot. "Or are you planning on jumping me and having me sent back to Neo-Cardiff in chains?" I challenge. "Where did you get that idea?" a quick denial from Siobahn, too quick and too smooth for my liking. "Why are you so concerned where I am if I''ve been fired?" I point out, "And are you really fine with me having given Daffyd a thrashing the other day?" "You''re paranoid." Siobahn scoffs, "Now stop imagining things." I snort to myself as my feet carry me back out of the von Amsterg manor completely unseen. Once I hit the public foot way, I see a pair of initiates waiting patiently for me under a tree. Good thing I summoned the rest of the Path to The City shortly after I had been hospitalized. They may not be strong, but they''re capable enough to act as scouts and gophers. "Then why did the entire capture squad show up at the hospital?" I ask, "That doesn''t sound like a friendly visit."Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Imagine my surprise when I got the news from my initiates. Siobahn''s certainly not wasting time. By any measure I should still be immobilized thanks to my injuries. Its odd though, the more the dreams intrude, the faster I heal up. There''s a correlation obviously at work here, but I''m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Just be grateful that I made myself scarce before the storm hit. Siobahn clicks her tongue in annoyance but holds a contemplative silence as she considers my words. I don''t give her the chance to respond though. "Times up boss. Sorry, ex-boss." I taunt, "I know you''re trying to trace my location using my mobile. We won''t be talking again. Goodbye." I stab the call end key and immediately shut off the phone. With a flick of my wrist, the phone sails into the gutter nearby. The initiates walk up to me, concern on their faces. "Was that wise Master Chance?" one of the initiates, a rabbit man with lop ears asks, "You knew that you were being tracked, yet you accepted the call." I shrug easily, "We will be long gone by the time the capture team gets here. Anyway, I felt that I owed it to Siobahn to at the very least say goodbye. What happened between us wasn''t her fault." Damn it, what are their names again? I can never remember the names of the initiates. It may not be practical to actually memorize every single one of their names, but I always feel somewhat guilty about this bit of ignorance. Especially since the initiates came to The City at my request. The initiates lead me to a rented car, a generically inoffensive compact painted blue and we pile in. One of the initiates takes his position behind the wheel and with a light pur of its engine, the compact drives off, leaving the von Amsterg manor behind. "I feel sorry for Kirarin though." I muse thoughtfully, "Its already sad that she''s just going to be a toy for Tensei, but now his Uncle is forcing her to perform at Tensei''s wedding as well. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound." "What a weirdo that rich old guy is." the other initiate says offhandedly, idly scratching his toucan''s beak. "Nah, not weird. There''s method to the madness." I quip, "Its dominance play. Tensei''s Uncle wants to put Kirarin in her place, force her to publicly support the marriage." "And Kirarin''s management allows this to happen?" initiate one asks disbelievingly. "I reckon Siobahn''s getting paid." I fold my arms more comfortably while explaining, "This whole marriage thing makes no difference to her, one way or the other." "There''s another girl right?" initiate one queries with his eyes squarely focused on the road. "Yeah. The policewoman, girl, whatever you want to call her." I agree, "Saw her standing in the background in a maid''s outfit. More dominance play on the old man''s part would be my guess. Mistress number two is probably going to be serving drinks to guests on the big day." "You''re exaggerating." initiate two scoffs. I shake my head, "I lived with that family for years. Believe me when I say that the old man is a nasty piece of work. None of these arrangements would be out of character for him." "Are you just upset that you couldn''t get together with Tensei?" initiate one cuts in. Yeah, that''s a complicated question. I think I fancied Tensei at one point and I''m pretty sure that I would be willing to do the dirty with him. I mean, he''s cute and strong and gentle. As a friend with benefits, you could really do a whole lot worse. But now? That''s no longer on the table. Not when I''ve met my fated enemy. The whole reason why I became Master of the Path. There''s no time for love when you''ve got to save the world. I snap my fingers and gesture at the pair of initiates, "Back to business. You brought the stuff I asked for?" "Well yes," initiate two begins, "but no one has actually used it in recent memory. That thing might be packed with magical energy, but it''s an antique. Wouldn''t something newer be a better choice?" "I still think we are over our heads." initiate one comments, "Its one thing to read about this stuff in the old texts, but actually doing it? Well, I don''t know." "I''m ready. I can do this." I reassure, "You guys just cheer me on from the back." No shit everyone else is over their heads. If you guys had spent some time actually studying the legacies instead of cosplaying, you could actually help me out here. But that''s spilled milk. I have to work with what I have on hand. "The box under the seat." initiate two says, "What you asked for is inside." I reach out and pull the box up before placing it on my lap. The box nondescript and fairly large, but weighs very little. I lift the box''s cover and begin removing the protective layer of bubble wrap that has been packed inside. I feel it. As the bubble wrap is peeled away, I sense the pulse of energy emanating from within the box. Excitement begins to mount within my heart. I never thought that this day would come. Slowly, I lift up the ancient short sword from the box with both hands. The weapon is well preserved, but etches and pits mar it''s pitch black blade. But despite flaws that would make the blade brittle and unusable, the weapon thrums with indisputable power. An invisible force that holds the scarred blade together regardless of whatever metallurgy has to say about that. "The gift from the Princess to Prince Enma." initiate two whispers reverentially, "With this sword, Prince Enma defeated a servant of the True Emperor in single combat and began walking the path of a hero." I flush from a combination of shame and excitement. Shame because from the dreams, I know the truth of how Enma received the blade. He was no hero, no matter what the myths say. Still, one part of the legend is correct. This weapon did kill an enemy of the world, a servant of the True Emperor. The sword possesses real power, regardless of its provenance. And the excitement builds from the opportunity to finally make this weapon worthy of its reputation. To defeat an enemy of the world with my own hands. To redeem Enma''s memory. To truly be a real hero. Fact and Fiction On the TV screen, a pair of figures confront each other while the wind billows dramatically. Surrounding the pair is absolute carnage, men and monsters battling for their lives while fires rage in the background. A young woman clad in a red gown cowers behind one of the combatants, her face fully hidden by a crimson veil. Her protector is a well groomed and richly dressed man in flamboyant robes while his opponent is a cloaked brute wearing a metal face plate that towers over both the man and his charge. "Oh save me, Prince Enma!" the woman in red cries. "Monster, you will have to get past me!" the anime representation of Enma declares heroically while he swings a short sword about. As the monster, no doubt a representation of The Voice from what I know of this world''s background, begins to explain in painstaking detail how and why Enma and Fate are doomed, I snap my fingers in front of Alley''s face to bring her attention back to me. "Eyes here. Not on the TV." I say, "You understand what you need to do?" Alley resolutely ignores my prompting and keeps her eyes pinned on the pub''s TV, pouring her full attention towards the monster chortling at how completely screwed Enma and Fate are. Which according to anime logic, means that the monster is going to get it''s ass handed to it in short order. "Hey! Pay attention!" I bark to no avail. Alley continues to ignore me, watching the admittedly awesomely animated fight scene between the monster and Enma taking place on prime time TV. She''s really starting to test my patience. "Stop wasting time with her." The Voice grumbles, and I am inclined to agree. I wind my arm back and bitch slap Alley squarely in the cheek with a thunderous smack that resounds across the pub. The pub''s other patrons turn to look at us as Alley''s face snaps at close to a right angle from the impact. The other patrons quickly go back to their own business, ignoring Alley as she rubs her sore cheek, a trickle of blood running down her mouth. "You paying attention now?" I question harshly, "Or do you need a remedial lesson?" Alley glares sullenly at me as she responds, "You hit me." "I can break bones as well." I shoot back, daring her to test me further. In the background, the anime monster roars in defiance as it flails ineffectually at cartoon Enma. Alley just lowers her head in hostile silence. "You want me to participate in a crime." she finally manages to say. "As the getaway driver." I roll my eyes as I clarify, "All the heavy lifting will be done by me. Will you just relax?" "You''re asking me to take part in a kidnapping!" Alley nearly shrieks but manages to stifle her cry at the last minute. "Love and Justice will always prevail!" cartoon Enma pronounces from the TV. Sure, whatever you say fam. "You''re already a criminal." I point out to Alley, "I have no idea what you''re getting so worked up about." Alley twists her fingers together in a knot but keeps looking down, wrestling with her anxiety and doubt. Good thing I had prepared for this eventuality. I pick up the plastic bag at my feet and slide it across the table towards Alley. "Half now. The remainder once the job is done." I say. Alley unties the bag and looks inside, seeing the rolls of freshly spawned cash, courtesy of The Voice. She quickly pushes the bag away, as if it is filled with venomous snakes. "I don''t want it." Alley whispers, "I don''t need it." "Yes, you do." I smirk, "How long do you think the Academy is going to keep a Head of Administration that has been picked up by ORPO?"Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. "I was cleared. There were no charges." Alley hotly rebuts. "That can change anytime the boss wants." I snarl, "It could even change tomorrow." "THERE IS NO ESCAPE." anime Voice bellows at the top of its, well, voice from the TV. "I helped you! During the attack on the Academy!" Alley wails, tears building in her eyes, "Isn''t that enough?" "And you tried to sell me out while in police custody. Anyway, I had told you before." I tap on the table, leaning forward to emphasize my point, "You''re part of our little gang now. Understand?" Alley reluctantly accepts the plastic bag full of cash and slowly nods. Took her long enough. "You got the plan down?" I ask again for confirmation. Another unenthusiastic nod from Alley. "Alright. I''ll pick you up from your home when its go time. Be ready." I say as Alley jerks back in shock from my pronouncement. I sigh at her display before confirming, "Yes. I know where you live as well. So don''t even think of cutting and running." "NOTHING CAN STOP THE DARKNESS THAT IS TO COME." Wow, anime Voice is way more dramatic than the actual article. More entertaining too. Alley slumps out of the pub with the bag of cash cradled in her arms like a baby. Well, that sorts that out. I signal one of the waiters to place an order of fried chicken and turn to the window, gazing at the burned out husk that is Ascension Tower looming in the distance. "That took long enough." The Voice harrumphs, "At any rate, the pieces are falling into place. My own preparations for the mission are making good progress as well." "We did quite a number on Ascension Tower." I muse before turning back to the TV to see cartoon Enma getting his face broken by the monster, "Hey, I got a question for you." "Ask." The Voice rasps. "There''s a cartoon screening on prime time giving the hidden low down of this world." I whisper, "But nobody knows anything about Fate and the hidden war. Why is that?" "Never! I will never give up on Anri!" cartoon Enma shouts to the animated heavens. "I could ask you the same about your own world." The Voice rasps, "The greatest mysteries are usually hidden in plain sight." "My world? What are you talking about?" I blink with surprise. The Voice laughs in amusement, "The bat god Transmigrator. I understand his battles with the entity known as the clown across your reality are stories worthy of legend. Yet no one takes those stories seriously despite almost everyone having at least some knowledge." "Wait. Are you for real?" I almost jump from my seat, taking the waiter bringing the plate of fried chicken by surprise, "You''re claiming all that shit in comic books is true?" "Who knows?" The Voice gives a verbal shrug, "I am not at liberty to divulge the secrets of brother gods to a mortal. Though that hypothetical certainly got you thinking, did it not?" I smile apologetically to the waiter, a hawk man, as he sets the plate down in front of me. Wasn''t I served by him the last time I was here at this joint? And how in the world did he injure his arms to the extent he needed to bandage them up to such a degree? "Yeah it got me thinking alright." I murmur once the waiter has moved away from my table, "Pretty scary how people will just ignore something if its obvious or outrageous enough." "That principle applies to gods as well." The Voice continues, "For instance, I knew of the precursor legacy, but completely overlooked Fate using it to its advantage. Thankfully I was able to survive my mistake." "AAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH." cartoon Enma screams as the woman in red fires off animated hearts in his direction, causing his body to blaze with power. "He sounds like he''s in the middle of taking a huge dump." I dourly remark. "Garbage. Complete garbage." The Voice rumbles unhappily as the anime continues to run on the TV. "Oh yeah? As an action flick its pretty good though. Its really cheesy though." I remark as Enma gets his mid-fight power up and begins mercilessly belting anime Voice with that short sword of his. "Justice! Truth! Looooove!" cartoon Enma trills on the screen as he prepares to deliver his finishing move on the monster. "Feeling sore?" I giggle quietly to myself. The Voice just makes an annoyed huff in reply. Cartoon Enma performs an over elaborate slash with his short sword, filling the TV with CG effects. The monster as expected topples to the ground completely defeated and Fate rushes into her husbando''s embrace. "Why isn''t the ultimate attack the fire of perdition?" I question, "Isn''t that like, Enma''s entire thing?" "Its still too early in the continuity." an unexpected voice chimes in. I turn around in surprise and see the hawk waiter standing close to my table, eyes glued to the TV screen. "Prince Enma only gets the fire of perdition after the journey north." the hawk man continues not noticing me staring at him. "Uh, OK. Thanks for that bit of information." I say, not quite sure what to make out of this. "Oh!" the hawk man exclaims, "I didn''t mean to hear you talking to yourself there. Sorry about that." "Yeah. Got a bit caught up in the moment." I explain. Was this guy eavesdropping on me? The hawk man merely bows in apology and quickly disappears into the pub''s kitchen. "Our business here is done. Let us go." The Voice mutters sulkily, "I have watched enough rot for one night." "Yeah." I concur, getting up from my seat and heading for the pub''s door after leaving some cash on the table. The electronic doorbell plays its synthesized jingle as I depart. I step out into the night streets and the shuffling crowd swallows me whole, the anime''s ending theme song fading into the distance. Finalizing The Script Night had fallen once more across The City and The Voice parked the SUV by the side of the now deserted main thoroughfare of the Dreaming Spires District. With the windows of the SUV so heavily tinted and the black curtains drawn across, no one would realize that there was some one camping inside the vehicle. That person, of course, being me. I sit cross legged in the rear sleeping area set up for me, my eyes glued to the laptop, the screen illuminating the SUV''s interior with its synthetic radiance. "As the clock counts down to the wedding of the century, our correspondent ..." the reporter rattles on the news feed being streamed on the laptop. Still photos of the bride and groom scroll across the screen appended by a panning shot of the von Amsterg manor shows off the place decorated sumptuously for the wedding. Silk and satin is expensive right? Well, the Hero''s uncle had certainly splashed out for a whole lot of the stuff. The reporter goes on the talk about the expected guests, a who''s who of The City''s movers and shakers apparently, with a few celebs thrown in for glamour. Can''t have the reporters taking photos of nothing but wrinkly old men and women after all. But what concerns me the most of all is the date of the wedding. "Just a few days left." I murmur, "We are running out of time." "No we are not." The Voice denies, "My preparations are complete. Enjoy the peace while you can, Transmigrator. This is the calm before the storm." "You seem awfully relaxed about the whole thing." I point out, "Kidnapping the Hero will not be easy, even with Alley''s help. He will fight us every step of the way." "Then it is a good thing we will not be kidnapping the Hero." The Voice rasps, "Did you think I would actually allow you to reveal my real plan to an unwilling accomplice in a public place?" "But I thought ..." I begin to protest but The Voice cuts me off. "Let me be more precise." The Voice continues, "We will be kidnapping somebody at the wedding, and the Hero will deliver himself in due course to us." I fold my arms with a frown, "I don''t understand. Who are we kidnapping then?" The Voice dismisses the news stream and begins to display extracts from a series of tabloids on the laptop''s screen. The publications themselves may be different, but the contents of the articles are all the same. Talk about the Hero''s affair with the Idol, possible affair with Magic Police Girl and his general moral turpitude. There is even a racy comic portraying the Hero as an abomination with a triple dick, simultaneously drilling Big Tits, Magic Police Girl and the Idol all at once. "I get it. Our man is a laughing stock." I say, "The point being?" The Voice rumbles, "Laughing stocks do not get the backing to become a Prince. The Hero''s escapades have already badly disappointed the von Amsterg patriarch. Once the knowledge that his daughter has laid with the Hero as well comes to light, that disappointment will turn to rage, destroying the Hero''s chances of inheriting the von Amsterg territory." "Wait!" I jump in surprise, "Just when did the Hero do it with Brocon?" "When Irene Scott was trying on her wedding gown." The Voice explains, "Turning back to the issue at hand, openly kidnapping the Hero would further damage his already tarnished reputation. We would have no way of giving an explanation for the Hero''s disappearance or for our attack on the wedding that would stand scrutiny. There would only be one reasonable conclusion that anyone could draw." "Our man had been irredeemably compromised." I conclude for The Voice, "Nicky''s dad would drop the Hero like a hot potato. The duel would be a moot point. Fate wins. The end. What a player though. Banging another woman while your wife is getting ready for the wedding." "Correct. That is the reason why we will not be actually kidnapping the Hero." The Voice says, "Rather, we will be giving the Hero a chance to shine." The laptop now shows a still shot the pub Alley and I had our meeting at. While the photo is focused on the two of us, hovering nearby is a familiar face that I remember all too well. "Its the Hawk waiter." I exclaim, "So he was listening in on us." "A Legion covert operative." The Voice picks up the thread again, "The "waiter" had briefly met the Hero and Heroine Naiberg while they were escaping from an ORPO dragnet. He has already reported what he heard to Marshal St Clair, and the good Marshal in turn has decided to oppose us, if only on the ground to set my plans back on Fate''s behalf." "Are you crazy!" I blurt out, "That would bring an additional load of muscle crashing on my head during the mission! How am I supposed to deal with that?"If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "You will not need to." The Voice exclaims smugly, "The Hero will deal with it. All you need to do is to set things up for him." "Alright. Let''s go over what the plan was supposed to be." I sigh wearily, "After I pick up Alley in the black cab, we will head directly to the von Amsterg manor. There''s no change to any of that, right?" "Correct." The Voice confirms, "You will deploy fully equipped and ready for action. All you need to do is drive there and begin your attack on the wedding." "While in the meantime, Alley will make her way to the SUV which will be parked near the manor." I press on, "She will act as a getaway driver in case Celeste cuts you off from the SUV again." "Judging from the range of the servant''s power," The Voice muses, "I will almost certainly be cut off from the both of you once the battle starts. Alley will need to drive the SUV until she crosses the boundary of the blind spot. I will then take over if required." "I will grab the Hero and bring him to the SUV." I close my eyes, putting the plan together, "I hold the guards off while Alley makes the getaway?" "Wrong." The Voice rasps, "As I said before, you will not be kidnapping the Hero." "Who then?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Irene Scott." The Voice rasps in amusement, "The beautiful bride to be. Allow me to explain the real plan, Transmigrator." Please do. My brain is starting to hurt from all this cloak and dagger business. "In broad outline, the plan remains the same. Both your and Mrs Alley will arrive at the wedding, with her securing the getaway vehicle and you just being your usual self." The Voice begins. "Hey!" I protest, "This is an unusual situation for me too you know." The Voice laughs before carrying on with the briefing, "For your mission load out, I have modified the flash bangs to deliver the tranquilizer cocktail Archmage Naiberg had used on the perfecta. You will administer the tranquilizers on everyone at the wedding, then snatch Irene Scott. Can you guess what comes next?" I think, chewing my lip meditatively. Tranquilizers. Meaning its not supposed to kill. Not outright at least. The Voice is deliberately handing out non-lethal munitions, and certainly not out of concern for the wedding guests. There''s something else at play here. "The tranquilizers work on the Hero as well?" I probe. "I have upped the potency." The Voice answers, "The Hero will be out like a baby." Then why not just grab the Hero directly? Then I remember something I has seen on the laptop. Someone else had kidnapped the Hero previously, didn''t they? "I take a shot at the Hero with the revolver." I hazard a guess. "Close enough." The Voice congratulates, "The tranquilizers will shut down the Hero''s conscious mind and your attack on him will force his defense protocol to execute. With the Hero''s awakening skill neutered thanks to the termination protocol, you will be able to resist any retaliation on his part and beat him back before making your way to Alley." "That''s assuming the new armor works as advertised and I can actually activate the core once Celeste gets going." I grumble. "It will. Have some faith." The Voice reassures, "Alley will make the getaway with Irene Scott, and be inevitably intercepted by the troops dispatched by Marshal St Clair." "And the Hero, having recovered from being slapped around by me, will come charging straight out." I pull at the thread, "But he won''t go after me, right? The Hero will be on that weird autopilot mode I saw after the fight with the Perfecta. And since Celeste installed that order for him to get hitched to Big Tits ..." "The Hero will pursue Mrs Alley, not engage you in combat. Very astute Transmigrator." The Voice takes up the briefing again, "Our man of the hour will miraculously appear just in time to battle the villains sent by Marshal St Clair to kidnap his precious wife." "In full view of the public of course." I grunt, "Yeah, I get the picture. But can he actually manage it with that termination thingy active?" "Yes." The Voice confirms, "The Hero''s powers may be deteriorating, but he is still powerful enough to deal with Legion troopers, even the elite black ops squads Marshal St Clair has on hand. Especially since the wedding will take place during the day." "Meaning Loli vampire can''t ride to the rescue." I nod, "But what about Alley? She can''t hold the Hero off by herself once the Legion troopers have been dealt with." "Again, she will not need to." The Voice says, "The Hero will instinctively recognize the SUV as an extension of myself. His body will self-sabotage any attempts to damage it. The SUV will lead the Hero to the inclinator at the Dreaming Spires District, where I will lock him in behind the blast door." "That''s the one leading to your place of power in the sarcophagus right?" I question, seeing where this is going. "Indeed." The Voice concludes, "Once he has been locked in, I will personally subdue the Hero and do the needful. He will reappear a few days later, a little worse for wear, but victorious in his quest to rescue his wife from the claws of the Legion." "And the marriage?" I ask. "The Hero, in the spirit of self-sacrifice, will realize that his presence will only endanger the woman he loves." The Voice smirks over the earpiece, "With a heavy heart, he will insist on the marriage being called off, not for his own convenience mind you, but for the well being of Irene Scott." "And fall into the embrace of his harem at the same time?" I stifle a giggle at how over dramatic The Voice''s script is. "Of course not." The Voice rebuts, "The Hero''s image has to be maintained after all. At any rate, all the Heroines are already pregnant. Further sexual intercourse with them would be unnecessary and counter productive." "A True Hero." I start laughing at the hilarity of it all, "A production starring Tensei von Amsterg." "Nevertheless, I need to remind you that you do have an important role in this farrago." The Voice rasps, "I will be actively manipulating events in the background. You need to keep the servant''s attention centered on yourself, so that I do not get cut off at an inopportune moment." "Where would a director be without his personal assistant?" I pat my chest, "Leave it to me. As long as you can pay, I will deliver." "Very good. Then let us put on a show the whole world will remember." Mother and Son The true young master of House von Amsterg strides into the private chambers of Yvonne St Clair, who sits quietly on a high backed chair with her eyes closed and seemingly in meditation. The contrast between her tiny body and the size of the chair would look slightly ridiculous, if not for the overwhelming aura of power radiating from the Marshal''s body. Nicholas von Amsterg immediately drops to a knee and lowers his head respectfully before announcing his presence. "By your summons, I have come, Marshal." Nicholas states, "Congratulations on your breakthrough. I can sense your new strength even though you are at rest." St Clair grimaces at this bit of praise from her apprentice, her gut churning uncomfortably with the sheer volume of blood she had ingested. It was the fastest way the Marshal could raise her strength so that she can support Nicholas in his duel with Tensei and Rose. Obtaining such a huge quantity of blood was a mere inconvenience for St Clair, the danger lay in forcing an increase in her powers at such a rapid speed. St Clair felt that her body was going to shake itself apart due to the almost uncontrollable waves of energy being expelled from her spirit core. "I have received word from my spies in The City." St Clair begins without preamble, swallowing a bit of vomit welling up from her throat, "The servant of the Tyrant is going to strike again during Tensei''s wedding. We must stop him." "Ah, will you be joining me Marshal?" Nicholas replies after some hesitation, keeping his eyes firmly locked on to the floor. A gentle chuckle from the woman trapped in a young girl''s body, "Nervous, Nicholas? Do you not believe that you can defeat the Tyrant''s blackguard?" St Clair stifles a cough and sucks her breath down hard, easing the tremors wracking her body with merciless intensity. "I believe Marshal." Nicholas grits his teeth, "I will achieve the victory that you seek." St Clair finally deigns to open her eyes and graces Nicholas''s boast with an affectionate smile, hiding the discomfort underneath, "Neither of us are foolish people, so there is no need to make promises to me that you cannot keep. You have improved a great deal Nicholas, but you are no match for the blackguard. I have no intention of sending you to your death." "I don''t understand Marshal." Nicholas looks up in confusion, "Then what do you expect me to do?" St Clair leans back in her chair, sighing in relief as the pain building in her marrow temporarily subsides as she responds, "The goddess has granted me a vision. She will dispatch champions to assist you in this task. Champions that can match the blackguard''s strength." "I understand." Nicholas nods, his eyes darting worriedly at St Clair''s lethargic body, "I will strike the finishing blow while the blackguard is distracted, ending his interference in the work of the goddess." "No. The blackguard intends to perform a kidnapping at the wedding. I need you to stop this crime." St Clair explains, "Leave the blackguard himself to the goddess''s champions." "A kidnapping?" Nicholas frowns in concentration, "Of whom?" "I do not know. That piece of information was something my spy could not find out." St Clair admits reluctantly, "But the visions are clear on one thing. If the blackguard succeeds, your rightful inheritance will be placed in grave danger."Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "And the blackguard?" the young master quizzes, "Are the goddess''s champions enough to deal with him?" "The blackguard is the equal of a single champion." St Clair explains, "A pair of champions are more than enough to end his interference." "I understand Marshal." Nicholas salutes with a hand on his chest, "Leave this task to me." "I will provide you with the needed troops." St Clair closes her eyes, the pain growing again and murmurs, "Lead them to victory." "Marshal? Are you alright?" Nicholas asks worriedly, finally having had enough of seeing the woman''s increasingly obvious discomfort, "I have never seen you so tired before." St Clair shakes her head and reassures, "Increasing my power was not easy. I''ll be fine after some rest." Nicholas suddenly slams his head on the ground in an awkward kowtow, and remains in that position, tears running from his eyes. St Clair makes a mildly amused noise as she shifts into a more comfortable position in her chair. "What''s this then?" St Clair laughs, a trickle of blood leaking from the edge of her mouth, "This is so unlike you, Nicholas." "Marshal, I have caused trouble for you." Nicholas says, trying to keep his voice steady, "You have to participate in the duel only because I am not strong enough. I had always thought that I was powerful, but even now I still cannot catch up with Tensei." "Mmm? How strange. I never expected you to say something like that." St Clair muses, "Tell me Nicholas, are you doing the best for yourself?" "Yes! Of course I am!" Nicholas protests, "I am working hard for you Marshal. And for the goddess as well, of course." A faint smile plays on St Clair''s face, "Not for me. For yourself. Are you doing the best for yourself?" Nicholas stutters for a moment, surprised by the question, "Yes. I suppose?" "Then that is good enough." St Clair states, "I do not regret my choice to help you Nicholas. So never short change yourself. Do your best so that you can always hold your head up with pride." "But why Marshal?" Nicholas blurts out, completely baffled, "Why do you support me so much? Its far more than what the goddess requires from you." "Now that''s a question." St Clair opens her eyes again with an embarrassed cough, "I suppose its due to a frustrated instinct on my part." "Instinct? Frustrated?" Nicholas repeats in an even more befuddled look on his face. "I''ll explain it another time." St Clair dismisses, "Now go and rest, you will need your strength for the upcoming battle." Nicholas grunts in agreement and begins to get back to his feet. But as he rises, St Clair places a hand on Nicholas''s shoulder and bends towards him, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "Good night Nicholas." St Clair sinks back into her chair, fatigue rolling off her body, "I''ll pray for your success and for your safe return home." "I can''t go home." Nicholas mutters unhappily, "Not while father and Rose are so against my presence." "That place was never your home." St Clair whispers as her consciousness begins to drift away, "A house without love can never become a home." "Marshal, are you saying that ..." Nicholas probes, but his question is cut off by the drone of snoring, the Marshal having succumbed to her tiredness. There''s a lump in the young heir''s throat, the Marshal''s words having raked up unhappy memories of the past. The relentless politicking within his family. His father''s disappointment in him, first hidden, then openly displayed to the world. Rose''s intractable hostility, seeing Tensei as a kind of replacement brother. And finally, his father''s act of rigging the duel in favor of an outsider at the expense of Nicholas, the real, actual son. Nicholas might have gotten over his anger at Tensei, but there remained several bitter pills for him to swallow, and nowhere enough water to do it with. The Marshal was right. He had no home among the von Amstergs. An irreparable rift had opened up between Nicholas and the rest of the House. Even if he won the duel, there would be no warm welcome. His father and Rose would see Nicholas as an interloper, while the rest of the House would view him as their meal ticket, nothing more. Nicholas''s thoughts wind their way inexorably towards several uncomfortable conclusions, with only the Marshal''s snoring for company. If Nicholas had no home among his own family, then perhaps its time to find somewhere else far away from them. A place he could call home. "Sleep well Marshal." Nicholas says as he drapes his blazer over the girl''s sleeping form and leaves her chambers. Grand Arrival Alley sits in silence on the passenger side of the car as I drive the black cab towards the von Amsterg manor. The traffic gradually becomes heavier and heavier, with servants directing the cars and guests towards the manor. And just ahead of us, parked by the side of the road in the middle of a line of luxury vehicles is the mobile hobo base, or more prosaically known as the SUV. A five minute walk from the manor''s entrance. The Voice had picked a good location to deploy the SUV. "Alright. We are coming up on the getaway vehicle." I say to Alley who looks up in surprise, "You know what you have to do?" Alley merely nods in silence, resigned to her role in this affair. Though quite frankly, she is freaking out over nothing. Alley will be spending the entire time chilling in The Voice''s place of power, literally the safest place in The City once shit hits the fan. Short of Fate actually descending from its divine realm to throw down, there''s nothing in this world that can breach the SUV. "You''ll be fine. Just remember the plan and be ready to move out once I bring the package over. Savvy?" I clap Alley on the shoulder as a form of encouragement. "Yes. I got it." Alley whispers, her composure steadying. Good. She''s getting into her required role. Despite Alley''s natural misgivings, she''s still caught in The Voice''s web. being driven along the path that will carry this world to its true end. I stop the cab and Alley disembarks without another word, walking towards the SUV. I then continue driving the black cab towards the manor''s main entrance. "You are not going to wear the hood?" The Voice rasps unhappily from the earpiece. "We''ve been through this already. You said I didn''t need to full armor set to shield the core from Celeste." I explain, "That means I can wear a gas mask to protect myself from the sedatives being thrown about." "Its a perfectly good hood." The Voice argues, "I have already spawned it in the cab for this mission. Furthermore, the gas will not affect you at all. The artificial core renders you completely immune." "I am not going to build up stress just for the sake of your fashion choices, OK?" I grumble back at The Voice, "Have you spawned the gas mask yet? We are going to reach the manor''s gates soon." The glove compartment pops open revealing both the gas mask and the executioner''s hood within. I reach over and take the gas mask, placing it on my lap, while pointedly ignoring the executioner''s hood staring at me accusingly. "There''s still time to change your mind." The Voice prompts. "Not happening." I respond, slamming the glove compartment shut, "You got the other stuff I asked for ready as well?" "Yes." The Voice rumbles, "I have stocked the boot of this vehicle with more than enough munitions and weaponry for you to make a nuisance of yourself once we have been cut off by the servant. I have also added several additional touches to increase the drama of the situation." "Additions? Drama?" I start asking worriedly, "We didn''t discuss anything like this earlier." "This mission is at its base a false flag operation." The Voice explains, "I have therefore provided weapons and ammunition associated with the Legion for your use. Feel free to cause as many casualties and as much collateral damage as you can." "Uh, would anybody be actually fooled by this?" I quiz as the black cab joins a long queue that trudges forward at a snail''s pace, "I am not exactly an unknown quantity at this point and don''t exactly have a history of working with the Legion." "It does not matter." The Voice states, "The general public is our audience, not the people in the know. With the paparazzi lapping up your performance and the very obvious evidence of Legion involvement that you will leave behind, no one will challenge our manufactured account of events, not openly at least." "Its still not going to fool Gustav." I object, "He has been intimately involved with the Legion this whole time. Gustav might try something behind closed doors." The Voice laughs, "I am well aware of that. I have prepared for Gustav''s interference, Transmigrator. Suffice it to say, he will go along with the lie, whether he likes it or not." "Everything is under control then?" I question, a feeling of unease creeping over me. The Voice has clearly kept part of the plan secret from me. I don''t like it, flying partially blind like this, but I am in way too deep to back out now. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. "Indeed." The Voice answers, "So do your part with an easy heart, Transmigrator. Matters are moving in accordance to their ordained paths." "If you say so." I grunt, "Hey, this line is moving really slowly. Will we even reach the manor in time for the wedding?" "Hold a moment." The Voice rumbles, "Ah, I see. Fate is interfering in an attempt to close your window of opportunity to carry out the mission. Gustav''s staff are diverting the cars away from the manor on the ground that there are already too many vehicles parked inside." "I can''t leave the cab." I complain, "The gear I need to put on our show is all stored inside the boot." "You may need to." The Voice says, "I detect that the manor''s staff are hurrying the event to start despite not all the guests having arrived yet. You may not have the time to tarry any further." I think for a moment, chewing on my lip, "Where exactly is the wedding being held?" "On the manor''s grounds, right in front of the entrance to the building proper." The Voice answers, "I cannot sense the presence of the Hero, but intercepted communications informs me that the pastor is being summoned to the courtyard right now. We are running out of time." "Open a line to Alley on the SUV''s radio." I answer, "And hold on to your butt." ... "This is it Irene." Celeste whispers excitedly to me, "I am so happy for you." I steady my nerves as I stride down the red carpet laid down on the grounds of the von Amsterg manor, walking past seats filled with assembled dignitaries. The long wedding gown trails gracefully behind me as Celeste takes up the rear as my bridesmaid. It all looks so perfect, but underneath the smiling faces around me is the real truth. Everyone is laughing at me. Kira stands by herself in a corner, waiting for the signal to begin her performance, a look of complete bewilderment on her face. Sera in the maid uniform glares at me venomously, a tray of drinks balanced on one hand while the other clutches at her saber. Everyone knows that these two are going to be Tensei''s mistresses in the future. No matter how much Celeste pleaded, Tensei adamantly refused to cut either of them loose. This marriage is merely a matter of form, the reality is that its completely bogus. Tensei is not marrying me out of love, but out of a sense of obligation. As we pass the front row of the seats, I meet Gustav''s expressionless gaze with one of my own. By his side is Rose, who openly sneers at me derisively. How can I make this marriage work when everyone is so implacably against me? I can''t keep counting on Celeste to stay in my corner. Sooner or later, she will leave, if only to go back to the Academy. Then I will be left all by myself, surrounded on all sides. What am I going to do? Before I know it, Celeste and I stand before the pastor as the organ continues to play. Tensei draws abreast of me, with a butler standing in for the best man. Tensei had originally wanted Ken as his best man, but that was no longer possible after Ken was sent by his family to an insane asylum. The story I heard was that Ken just snapped one day at the Academy. "Dearly beloved ..." the pastor begins his canned speech, but Tensei cuts the man off. "I do." Tensei says. "Pardon?" the pastor starts, clearly off balance. "I do." Tensei repeats as he looks squarely at me, "Please say yes Irene. Let''s try to make this work. Together." I smile, blinking tears from my eyes. Maybe things are not so bad after all. In that single moment, I found the boy that I had fell in love with not so long ago. "I -" but before I can complete the words, a loud crashing noise erupts from the main gate. We all turn back to the source of the commotion. "I OBJECT!" a loud shout comes from a black cab barreling through the gate, running over several of Gustav''s butlers. The driver swerves the vehicle hard, aiming it towards a cluster of seats filled with guests. The cab plows into the guests, sending cries of panic and pain into the air, before finally slamming the brakes. I recognize that voice. Its Gallant. There''s no one else it could be. "No!" Celeste moans in distress, "He''s here! The bad man is here!" "Go and hide Celeste." I instruct while summoning my spirit sword, "I will deal with Gallant." "Go on." Tensei says while taking his place beside me, "Irene and I will hold him off. Get to safety." "Mn! Yes!" Celeste nods as she runs into the manor, "I will pray for both of you! Come back safe!" I allow myself a brief laugh at how sweet Celeste is, even in these circumstances. That moment ends once Gallant steps out of the cab, clad in a gas mask and black trench coat. A butler rushes forward to apprehend him, but Gallant''s arm shoots forward, blasting clear through the butler''s torso. As the bloody corpse topples over, Celeste takes a deep breath to sing her song, but Gallant chucks a grenade in her direction, which explodes in a cloud of thick fog. The cloud spreads rapidly, and anyone caught within it collapses to the ground. Gustav and Rose are surrounded protectively by their staff and Sera pounces at Gallant with her saber drawn. But Gallant does not even break his stride as he casually knocks Sera aside with one hand. A grenade is tossed at Gustav''s group but Rose springs into action, erecting a protective bubble around them with her magic. As the grenade explodes and releases another cloud of gas, the bubble flickers briefly, but ultimately keeps the gas out. Gallant merely shrugs, ignoring Gustav and Rose as he makes his way towards Tensei and I. Rose''s shield may keep her and Gustav safe from the gas, but it also removes them from the fight. I watch with growing trepidation as Gallant brutalizes yet another butler that tries to intercept him, this time by uppercutting the butler''s head clean off. There''s no doubt about it, he''s here for either Tensei or myself. "Together. We fight him together Irene." Tensei says, summoning his own spirit sword, "We can do it. I believe in you." The butler''s head lands between Tensei and I with a bloody splat as Gallant finally stands directly in front of us. This is it. I square my shoulders and draw a deep breath. "I believe in you as well Tensei." I declare loudly, "I believe in us!" Both of us point our swords at Gallant, who for some reason is trying to hold back laughter. "No one cares, Big Tits." Gallant sniggers as he tosses one of his grenades at our feet before we can react. With a bang, the fog swallows me whole. Leaving only darkness. True Hero As the fog spreads from the grenade I had thrown at the Hero''s feet, I dash forward and scoop up the now unconscious Big Tits and carry her on my shoulder. Sparing a quick glance at the Hero who is now passed out on the ground, my inspection is rudely interrupted by a web of red thread that slashes outwards from the manor itself, and begins to extend across the courtyard. There''s a buzz of static from the earpiece which is quickly replaced by silence. The guards I had run over in the black cab begin picking themselves off the driveway and reach into their blazers, drawing automatic pistols. Its Celeste. She must have taken cover somewhere inside the manor and is trying to neuter my powers so that Gustav''s bodyguards can bum rush me. The driveway guards begin blasting at me with their weapons and I brace for impact, hoping that The Voice''s armor works as advertised. My heart jumps into my throat as the red threads wash over me and I shut my eyes tightly, half expecting the artificial core to shut down. But the next thing I feel is the thumping of the bullets gently massaging my torso, followed by a hard poke on my forehead as one of the guards manages to get a lucky head shot in. Huh. So The Voice isn''t full of shit after all. I know that''s a fairly uncharitable thought to have, but I''m the one risking my life here. I''m more than entitled to bitch and moan, especially if its in the privacy of my own head. As I am distractedly pulling out the bullet that has been wedged between my forehead and the gas mask, a gentle breeze stirs, coupled with a surge of spiritual energy from Brocon. The knockout gas begins to disperse and Brocon drops the shield that had kept her little gang safe and out of the fight. Gustav nods to the bodyguard standing by his side who gives an eager grin in response. The bodyguard blazes his spirit core and lowers his head, his visage beginning to morph into something far more bestial. The neatly groomed hair grows out and becomes wild and shaggy. A pair of short horns, more like bony nubs really, begin to extend outwards, curving and hardening all the while. The bodyguard lets loose an animalistic grunt as the transformation completes, his head replaced by the snorting face of an angry ram. Gustav snaps his fingers and on that signal, the ram man sprints in my direction, his horns lowered to run me through. Spiritual energy keeps flowing into the horns, causing them to burn like miniature suns, at least before my eyes. Anyone who has the misfortune of being gored by ram man is not likely to survive, given the huge amount of magic reinforcing those horns of his. I flick the bullet in my hands towards ram man''s head. Ram man abruptly lurches backwards as the expended bullet punches into his cranium, drilling its way inside. The back of ram man''s head bursts apart, spilling grayish goo all over the floor as the bullet pierces right through, continuing its trajectory towards Brocon''s group. Brocon''s eyes widen in alarm and she stands slack jawed, completely taken by surprise by this turn of events. The bodyguards surrounding Gustav don''t miss a beat however. One of them calmly steps in front of the von Amsterg patriarch just in the nick of time. My thrown bullet slams squarely into the guard''s gut, but the demon does not flinch, merely holding his hand to the wound to prevent it from bleeding out. Got to admit, these guys are real professionals. Gustav has an eye for talent at least. Brocon hurriedly waves her hands in arcane patterns and the shield reconstructs itself around her group, sealing them off from their surroundings. Guess Brocon values her own safety more than actually trying to rescue Big Tits. Makes sense though, its not as if I''m targeting the Hero. Anything that makes my life easier is certainly welcome. Just as I am about to turn my attention to the guards taking potshots at me from the driveway, the SUV thunders through the main gate, running down the guards once more. Alley swerves hard and hits the brakes, bringing the SUV to a stop close to where I am standing with a squeal of tortured rubber. I had earlier told Alley through the SUV''s radio to make her appearance once the driveway guards were preoccupied trying to deal with me. I had expected from the start that running those guys over would not be enough to put them down for good. But it would make me the focal point of their attention, allowing Alley to do the pickup and subsequently flee from the scene. I hear the doors of the SUV unlock and I pull the rear door open, tossing the unconscious Big Tits inside. Alley is in the driver''s seat wound up as tight as a spring, sweat staining her clothes. "Ten seconds." I instruct. Alley merely nods and grips the steering wheel even tighter, veins popping out from her hands. Slamming the door of the SUV shut, I stalk towards the black cab where the rest of my gear has been stored. Opening the boot, I grab the first weapons on top of a large pile stashed within. A pair of assault rifles with their barrels made out of hollowed out bone. The red thread tries to close in and wrap around my body, but there''s an invisible field that surrounds my body, easily repelling the servant''s power. The thread crackles in fury, but there is nothing it can do to draw close. Dual wielding both rifles, I level the weapons at the Hero''s sleeping form just as I hear the SUV peeling away down the driveway. Excellent. A quick burst from the rifles is fired at the Hero and he immediately springs to his feet, spirit sword easily deflecting my attack. The Hero''s empty gaze locks on to me before being violently shifted to what I assume to be the escaping SUV. The Hero fires up his admittedly still impressive spirit core and a wave of pressure washes over the courtyard, forcing many of the guests and guards to huddle on the ground. A pair of golden wings sprout from the Hero''s back and with a mighty flap, he takes off at high speed in pursuit of the retreating SUV. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. That''s phase one of the plan completed. Now for the main event. I turn and begin spraying the assault rifles indiscriminately across the grounds, raking the manor and guests alike with gunfire. Its all very equal opportunity. The paparazzi cower behind the guards, but their cameras keep snapping, recording the carnage for posterity. Chunks of glass and masonry are gouged off the manor while guests lie bleeding and moaning. All too soon, the rifles run dry and I hear the hollow click of empty magazines. The guards rally and begin charging me, not intending to give me the chance to reload. Discarding both guns, I reach into the boot for the next weapon, a trident made out of brass. Not having a clue as how to actually use it, I swing it hard at the first guard who closes the distance with me. The guard is sent spinning on his feet as the trident clubs him across the face. As the guard wobbles about drunkenly with his back turned to me, I draw the trident back and stab it right into his ass, putting the Sodom right into sodomy. The guard shrieks like a castrated horse and as his comrades close in, I kick the haft of the trident hard, feeling something break against my foot as the guard staggers away. The damaged trident begins to hiss, as the magical energy within starts to escape and a flash of lightning runs up the haft before the entire weapon splits apart, exploding the guard''s anus in the process. There''s a sour whiff of methane in the air as a massive explosion blooms from the guard''s ruptured ass, the shock wave throwing his comrades aside like rag dolls. My hand goes back into the cab''s boot and this time it closes around a length of iron chain. Again, no idea what this is actually supposed to do, so I take inspiration from home, twirling the chain about like a pair of nunchucks. Another wave of guards attempts to rush my position, and the chain begins belting them across their bodies in rapid succession. A particularly vigorous swing of the chain sends a guard flying into the stands, where his bulk shatters several seats. I quickly loop the chain around the throat of another guard and perform a windmill throw, mowing down his colleagues with my hostage''s flailing body before releasing the chain. The unfortunate guard is sent sailing into one of the manor''s windows with a crash and I hear a loud girlish cry of pain coming from somewhere inside. The red thread abruptly flickers and disintegrates, withdrawing back into the manor from where it came. Looks like a scored a hit on the servant there. Too hurt and tired to keep her anti Voice field up I bet. Things are certainly looking up as I reach into the cab''s boot once more ... ... Now that''s a moron. Take it from me. In my professional opinion as someone who pretends to be retarded on a regular basis, Gallant is an actual retard. Who in the world uses the Chain of Obedience like that? And the Trident of Torment. He broke it by swinging that treasure about like a barbarian. But then again, strength is what rules this world. Gallant is proof of that. He had entered into a pact for the sake of power, and the being he merged with is delivering. Abuse of his weapons aside, Gallant''s raw strength is overwhelming. There is no one here who can match him. No one but me. The sword by my side trembles with pent up anticipation. The time to strike is now. I have to put a stop to the atrocities Gallant is committing. There is literally no one else that can do it. It is time. It is my time to finally be a true hero. I draw Enma''s sword, feeling its power lap eagerly against the air and I clamber to my feet, looming over the crowd as I look down from the manor''s roof. Gallant is completely unaware of my presence, reaching into the boot of his car for another weapon. One blow. That is all Enma''s sword needs. One blow and I can end this. Deep breaths. Take aim. And jump! I plummet downwards, the sword raised to deliver the deathblow. Gallant suddenly looks up, alarm reflected in his eyes, visible from behind the gas mask. I swing down, a smooth clean stroke as Gallant jerks his head backwards. But my blow strikes true, cleaving past the gas mask. Drawing blood. "Auuggh!" Gallant screams, swinging his arms about in a frenzy, "My eye! How! Nothing can hurt me! So how?" "So now you know how it feels." I smirk as Gallant backs up into the car, completely disoriented, "Payback''s a bitch, huh?" I surge my core and lash out with my foot, kicking Gallant in the chest. The force of my blow sends both him and the car flying backwards, right into the maze of rose bushes nearby. Gallant flops about like a fish out of water before dropping to his knees, hands to his face, blood dripping out from between his fingers. "Its over." I announce, "Make your peace, Enemy Of The World." Gallant moans in response as he thrashes about in the dirt. He probably is going into shock right now. I channel the Fire of Perdition through Enma''s sword, and feel the spell''s power being magnified, the natural affinity between my ancestor''s weapon and technique strengthening both several times over. A hurricane of fire springs up from my feet and with a vigorous swing of the blade, I direct it towards Gallant. The flame unfurls like a piece of parchment and like a tidal wave rushes towards my enemy. Gallant looks up once more, the gas mask completely bloody. But there is no time for him to do anything. The Fire of Perdition devours him and the car, a massive explosion erupting as the car''s fuel detonates. The flash is blinding and the only thing I can see is the car being catapulted into the air, spewing out the contents of it''s boot all over the place before the wreck crash lands. I did it. I defeated the Enemy Of The World. "Not bad." a cold, hard voice shakes me from my reverie. Standing in the blaze is Gallant, the gas mask peeled off from his ruined face. But his remaining eye is alert and glares at me with frightening intensity. It is the look of a fanatic. My heart sinks for I recognize this look. I saw it at the hospital when I last fought Gallant. Gallant is a man no longer. The being he merged with has taken over the body. Gallant raises his hand up and catches a fluttering piece of black cloth that had fallen out of the cab before wearing it over his head. I recognize this. Is this destiny? Is it my fate to settle accounts that had been left unpaid by my ancestor? Gallant then picks up a double handed sword that lies on the ground and swings it, the rush of pressure killing the flames that had sprouted all around us from my attack. "Sacred Executioner." I whisper, bile rising in my throat. The identity of the being Gallant had merged with is finally known. He is not just an Enemy Of The World, but also my enemy. The enemy I had been literally born to defeat. "It is time to finish things, Prince Enma." the Sacred Executioner says. "Yes." I nod. There is nothing more that needs to be said. The score between us, lasting untold generations, will be settled today. One way or the other. The End of History "Enma, you can handle the vanguard?" Castiel asks me mounted from his horse, doubt written all over his face, "My powers are better suited than yours for fighting in the thick of it." I scowl and signal my men to form up behind me, not bothering to acknowledge Castiel''s presence. Ahead of us is a flat plain where the grand army of the Tyrant has assembled. Solid blocks of men, formed out of slaves and conscripts stand at the front, fingering their weapons worriedly. Their numbers may be daunting, but unlike us, these men are not here to fight. Give them half the chance and they will break and run. Only fear of the Tyrant holds them in place. And fear can never be stronger than love. No, the vanguard Castiel speaks of is not these troops, but the ranks of soldiers directly behind them. Clad in black from head to toe and brandishing the double handed swords that are their hallmark, serried ranks of Blackguards stand at the ready, stiffening the line of the Tyrant''s army. Completely fearless and utterly merciless, they are the opponents of anyone who has broken through the first line of unenthusiastic fodder. Most opponents would have been worn down from cutting their way past the conscripts, leaving them easy prey for the Blackguards, but Castiel, the serving boy and myself are not most opponents. We had journeyed north, to the lost city and acquired the power that the Tyrant had worked so hard to conceal. And with this power, we will end this conflict once and for all. No more Tyrant. No more sacrifices. A world of peace, as decreed by Anri. Castiel sighs, breaking my train of thought, "Fine then. I will order my men to charge once you have fully engaged the vanguard. Hold on until we arrive." The seed of irritation that had been steadily growing while Castiel badgered me finally sprouts at my realization of what he intends to do. The so-called knight wants to gain favor with Anri. Its so obvious. First he wanted the glory of meeting the Tyrant''s vanguard. After that role had been rightly given to me, the most powerful of Anri''s lovers, Castiel now seeks to deprive me of that glory by swooping in like a vulture. I smirk for a moment as I recall what Castiel''s power is. The power to keep taking hits without dropping dead. A suitable gift for someone whose main achievement is just being in the background. I was the one that led Anri North and opened the way to the lost city. I was the one that had the connections to raise our holy army. What does Castiel provide in comparison? Mediocre skills as a warrior. A less than spectacular intellect. Good thing his power prevents him from getting killed. The Blackguards would decapitate Castiel a hundred times over during this battle otherwise. Though I suppose there''s one thing Castiel is a champion at. Throwing a tantrum whenever Anri decides that she wants a more skillful lover for the night. If we leave the Tyrant''s vanguard to Castiel, we would be here all day as he barely makes a dent against it with the feeble thrusting of his spear. So the job falls to me. In the past, I would have balked at such a task, but Anri had helped me find my courage. No more hiding behind servants. I am going to make the change this world needs. I am going to be the man I was always meant to be. My troops fall in behind me and as we begin to march forward, a figure pushes past the men and tugs at my sleeve. "Who dares?" I snarl but immediately regret it. Anri stands beside me in her signature crimson garb, her head humbly held low, with both hands demurely clasped. The wind ruffles the silk lace of her veil, causing a torrent of pride and desire to overflow from my heart. Anri had chosen to reveal her appearance to a select few, with me naturally being part of that group. And her appearance is more than beautiful, it is transcendent. I have cultivated many lovers, be they nobles, maids, commoners, courtesans, but felt nothing for them. Sex to me is more of a recreational activity than anything else. With Anri its different. She is more than a mere lover. I actually love her. Yes, I love her! "Did I scare you?" I ask gently, seeking to reassure the most precious thing to me. To my relief, Anri shakes her head. "Let''s do our best together Enma, alright?" Anri asks in her tender voice. In the corner of my eye I see Castiel frown as he canters his horse towards us. "Milady, it is not safe for you here." Castiel intones as he hustles Anri away, "Come, I''ll lead you back to the rear." I grit my teeth in annoyance but Anri clutches at my sleeve with unexpected urgency. "Come back safe Enma." Anri pleads. I nod affirmatively and Castiel finally manages to pry her away from me. Stolen story; please report. "Do your job." Castiel grumbles underneath his breath and I give him a challenging look. Go back to sulking, Sir Knight. That''s all you''re good for. I turn to the Tyrant''s army and spread my arms wide, channeling the strength that I had received from Salvation. Time to show Castiel what real power means. I was planning on holding my power in reserve, but it might be better to put on a show, establishing my dominance over my foes. All my foes. "Enemies of the world," I declare, "taste the Fire of Perdition!" I raise my hands and a cyclone of green fire erupts towards the sky, twisting and churning, eliciting a cry of dismay from the conscripts of the Tyrant''s army. With a flick of my wrist, the fire is directed towards the panicking ranks that stand before me. The fire burns. My enemies burn. Everything burns. ..... Everything burns. Enma''s sword channels and amplifies my magic like a dream as I lash the surroundings with whips of flame. The grass smolders and the rose bushes of the von Amsterg manor are ablaze, sending choking smoke into the air. There is nothing in the three worlds that can stand against the Fire of Perdition once it has been fully unleashed. My title of Master Chance is not just for show. There is only one problem. The Sacred Executioner is fast. He performs a flash step the moment I start casting, neatly avoiding the Fire and immediately closing the distance between us. A fatal mistake if performed by a regular mage, the drain on the core would render the caster stunned and vulnerable immediately after a flash step. The Executioner would normally be serving himself up to me on a platter. But I know from experience that my opponent can handle the strain of this maneuver. I immediately raise Enma''s sword to guard as the Executioner steps out of the ether in front of me. But the blow I expect does not come. Instead the Executioner poofs into non-existence and I sense a looming presence beginning to form directly behind me. So that''s how my opponent intends to play it. Fine. I drop my head and dash forward as fast as I am able into the rose bush maze, putting some distance between me and the Executioner. Let''s see who can last longer. My flames or the Executioner''s ability to keep up with his flash steps. I perform a pirouette as fire spews from the tip of Enma''s sword. An ever widening fan of flame ravages the maze, driving the Sacred Executioner back as he attempts to corner me. The fire does my bidding, it will not harm me, no matter what. Turning the maze into a sea of flame would not only render me invulnerable, it would also prevent the Sacred Executioner from safely flash stepping towards me. Digging deep, I unleash my power in an unabated torrent, allowing the fire to spread throughout the maze, torching the walls and scouring the ground. Nowhere is safe for my enemy. I sense him desperately trying to retreat, hacking a path using his sword, but at every corner, I direct the flame to cut off his charge towards safety. Like a tightening noose, the Sacred Executioner is running out of places to cower as I keep channeling my power, adding more fire to the fuel all around us. Burn, let it all burn. Take away this stain on my ancestor''s honor. Let us finish this final reckoning that has been delayed for far too long. And it seems the Sacred Executioner has gotten the same idea as well. My senses tell me he has stopped running and is instead moving closer towards my location. How much damage can the Executioner take? I know the Fire of Perdition can hurt him, our first encounter had proven that. So let him come to me, wading through the fire. With a cry of exertion I redouble my efforts and the flames burst ever higher, reaching out, grasping, for something that none can see. The Executioner is moving much more slowly now, though still heading in my general direction. I grin, realizing that my plan is working. The fire is slowly but surely killing him. Even if my opponent survives long enough to make it to where I am, it would make no difference. In his weakened state, I would be able to finish the fight easily. I cough lightly as the smoke covers everything, obscuring my vision. A visceral excitement surges within me in anticipation of dealing the final blow. Closer. The Executioner is very close, but I can''t see him yet thanks to the smoke. Will he barge through one of the burning walls? Or perhaps flash step to my rear again? I ready Enma''s sword and stifle a laugh. It would be a hilarious end to the feud if the Executioner stumbled out of the smoke and ran himself through my sword. And he''s here. Any moment now he''s going to show up. My legs tense in readiness to pounce. "Damavand!" a muffled voice shouts and the ground explodes outwards from underneath my feet, sending me soaring head over heels up into the sky, high above the hedge maze. Tricked. I''ve been tricked. My mouth goes dry as I see a large hole below me with the Executioner standing right in its center. He didn''t walk through the fire. The Sacred Executioner tunneled his way into the ground, that was why his progress was so slow. The Fire of Perdition could not stop him after all. My opponent''s feet shuffle rapidly and he vanishes. A flash step. So is this how it all ends? I look up into the clear blue sky as the sun shines kindly open me, my body performing a graceful flip from the momentum of the explosion. In my dream, Enma''s lover told him to do his best. Did I measure up in the end? I did my best, I really did. So please don''t judge me too harshly. My new mobile buzzes in my trouser pocket in the middle of these ruminations and I reach out for it. How strange that I can still think of doing something so trivial at a time like this. A message? TRAITORS DIE IN SHAME A shadow forms above me, the Executioner having completed his flash step and bearing down with his sword raised for the final stroke. So this is how it is. No salvation. No redemption. Just a balancing of books, paying back an old betrayal. A memory comes to me, completely unbidden, as the blade closes in on my neck. What do you owe the True Emperor? My life. I owe the True Emperor my life. Brother and Sister And just like that, Chance''s decapitated head plummets to the earth, along with a lifeless corpse. The flames that had consumed the hedge maze go out in a blink, snuffed out as suddenly as their master''s life. The Sacred Executioner lands from his flash step, bending his knees to absorb the impact from the drop. The bloody double handed sword is raised triumphantly to the sky as all of the von Amsterg guards lower their heads in impotence. Invincible. Unstoppable. The Sacred Executioner is everything the stories my nursemaid made him out to be. He is also my brother. My men and I have gathered around the gates of the von Amsterg manor, having scrambled here immediately upon hearing that Daffyd had arrived to start trouble. I had wanted to apprehend Daffyd here and have him sent back home, but the closing moments of the fight with Chance have proved one thing. Daffyd is not going anywhere or doing anything he does not want to. Chance was probably one of the strongest mages alive, and now all that is left of her is a headless corpse. "Get back." my men say to me, pulling me back towards my car. They all want to leave before Daffyd notices them. I don''t blame them for that sentiment. This man is not the brother I had come to The City to retrieve. Chance was right. Daffyd had entered into a pact with another being, and he will never accept losing his new found power. I shake my men''s hands off me and begin walking towards the Sacred Executioner. This is foolishness. But there is a burning question that needs to be answered. Is my brother still alive, or is the Sacred Executioner the only thing left within that body? Was my assignment a fool''s quest from the start? I must know. I have to know. Not to report back to Da, but to at the very least, get some closure. I stand face to face with the Executioner, his one good eye peeking out of the bloodstained black hood. An awkward silence settles between us. What am I supposed to say? A feeling of embarrassment creeps up my spine, coloring my cheeks. I can''t very well ask the Executioner to put Daffyd on the line, can I? "Siobahn." the Executioner says. A simple statement, but an opening, an invitation for me to begin the conversation. "Daffyd, what have you done to yourself?" I ask. Who will respond? The man or the myth? "I have found my place in the world." Daffyd says, "I have been given the chance to become what Da always wanted me to be. Powerful. Successful." "Who am I talking to?" I probe cautiously, "My brother or the Sacred Executioner?" "I have become the Sacred Executioner." Daffyd explains, "Its a mantle that I accepted in return for the power I wield. So there is no difference Siobahn. I am still myself, if that was your question." "But when we first met at the park -" I begin but Daffyd cuts me off. "There are times when I sleep, but I was aware of your visit." Daffyd replies, "You were in more danger than you realized. I had to restrain the other from attacking you." The other. That must have been the "new" Daffyd I had interacted with when we first met. That explains some things, but isn''t this just an admission from Daffyd that he is not well?Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. "Come home Daffyd." I urge, "We can get this "other" of yours exorcised or whatever back at Neo-Cardiff. It can''t be fun letting someone else run around with your body, aye?" Daffyd merely shakes his head, "We are bound. He needs my body. I need his spirit core. Our existence depends on each other." So we come back to the same problem. Curing Daffyd requires him to give up his power. And he is not willing to do that. "I thought you would be more angry at me." I comment, remembering the difficult relationship Daffyd had with Da and myself. "I was. I was very, very angry at how Da treated me. And how you supported him." Daffyd''s voice becomes somewhat strained, "But that is all in the past." "You got over it?" I ask, feeling some relief. Something good might just have come out of this whole affair after all. "No. Not exactly." Daffyd sighs, "Its more like I realized how right both of you were." Daffyd continues in a slightly uncomfortable tone, "Da wanted me to be strong like him. I resented that, of course, thinking there might have been another way for me in life. But there really wasn''t. Not for the kind of life I wanted to live." "Living rich back home was a lie really. Once Da kicked me out to The City, I really began to see how someone weak would live." Daffyd shuffles his feet restlessly, "It was not easy. It was not pleasant. And it was what I had to look forward to for the rest of my life. Until things changed of course." I raise an eyebrow at Daffyd''s statement, "Da provided you with money you know. And he was in constant contact with your supervisor. If things got too difficult, we would have intervened." Daffyd spreads his hands as he replies, "I know. Da was always in the background. But it just drove home the point. Weak people don''t get to make their own choices. Da made my life choices for me. And so it would go on. First Da, then you, then my boss. So on and so forth. It was a life, but not the one I really wanted." Daffyd''s good eye narrows as he concludes his tale, "To be free I needed to be strong. Like you and Da. Both of you give the orders, not take them. So that''s why I''m no longer angry. I can''t be, not when you guys were right about things." I nod quietly. Its not the explanation I expected, but its something I guess. At least its a foundation for some kind of reconciliation between Daffyd and the rest of the family. "So, will you come back home?" I ask again, "Not to be cured, but to fulfill your role as my brother and Da''s son?" Daffyd shakes his head once more, "My place is not there anymore. I am the Sacred Executioner now. Not the son of the Gallant family." "That''s a myth." I snort. Daffyd rolls his eye, "Wake up Siobahn. The myth is real. I just beheaded Prince Enma." What? I know Chance always claimed to be one of Enma''s disciples, but is Daffyd saying that she entered into a pact as well? That would explain her frightening strength. "But I will return home one day Siobahn." Daffyd continues, "When I have made my mark on this world with my strength and exceeded what Da accomplished, I will return." "Really?" I frown. Is Daffyd making excuses not to see us again? "Yes, really." Daffyd bends down and picks up a rusted short sword and hands it to me. The blade is pitted and cracked, looking like it could fall apart at any moment, but the sheer aura of power the weapon exudes is overwhelming. "Prince Enma''s sword." Daffyd says, "It is the only weapon I have encountered so far that can hurt me. Take it back home and keep it safe Siobahn. I''ll be back one day for it." I grasp at the sword tightly, cradling it in my arms. Perhaps asking for a full reconciliation now would be too much. The mutual recrimination over the years had buried whatever love Daffyd had for Da and I. But one thing has not changed. We are family, and the trust between us is something not so easily shaken. Daffyd is placing his life in our hands knowing that we would never seek to do him harm. We will meet each other again. I know it. "Ah, the Stallion has arrived." Daffyd muses as a black cab comes to a stop by the manor''s gate, "Goodbye Siobahn." "Daffyd!" I shout as he walks away, "I will keep it safe! We will wait for you, no matter how long it takes!" And the black cab leaves, taking Daffyd away with it. Where will he go now? What will he do next? I don''t know. But I will wait. Because I believe in my brother. My men stand around, looking at me for further direction. "Everyone, let''s go home." End of Arc Three Relevance and A World Flying Off The Tracks I lean against the wall and take another swig from the can of beer in my hand, watching my former colleagues file out of the office after the last day of work. In the middle of the line of despondent faces is the bitch herself, trudging glumly out of the office that her father had left to her, brought to ruin by her spectacularly poor leadership. But I am getting ahead of myself, so let''s rewind a bit. After waking up in the gutter malodorous and bleary after a night of drinking, I was greeted by a message from my buddies at HR, saying that the bitch was raising hell as to why in the world I wasn''t in the office yet. Bad attitude, tardiness, poor performance, blah blah blah. I had half the mind to show up in my puke stained clothes smelling of stale alcohol just to rub my presence in the bitch''s face, but then my mind started working and I realized that''s just the thing the woman was looking for. The day had finally come. My protection at the firm had worn off and the bitch was starting disciplinary proceedings against me. The HR buddies told me that they were writing up a show cause letter against me right now. The time for words was over. The bitch was out to nail me to the wall. So you know what? Fuck that. Fuck the firm. Fuck Wonder Boy. And fuck the bitch most of all. I''ve got a secret weapon tucked beneath my armpit. And what a weapon it is. I called in sick. Vomiting all over yourself counts as being sick right? And headed home straight away to prepare my letter of resignation. Oh, I also contacted a few industry friends of mine at the same time. They would just love to know about the bitch''s pet project that would save her firm. I was scared to be sure. But when I woke up in that gutter, it was as if a lifetime had passed between the previous night and the morning. A lifetime spent fighting and killing. Living life as a man of action, not some cuck who spends his life complaining and drinking and whining and accomplishing nothing. In my dreams I had lived a life of doing whatever I want. A life of taking whatever I want. I''m going to keep at it. I''m going to be strong, just like in my dream. I''m going to be the man that I want to be. And the first step to accomplishing that, is to destroy the shadow in my heart. The bitch and Wonder Boy. Both of them were going down. Hard. The moment the bitch received my resignation, it was immediately accepted and my access to the firm''s records was sealed off. It was too late though. I was already in discreet negotiations with our competitors. Being cut off by the bitch also had another side benefit. There was almost no way for the firm to prove my theft of company secrets. A deal was struck. My future secured. And the bitch was doomed. She had lost the precious project the firm''s survival had been counting on. Collapse and insolvency followed soon after. And that takes us to the present day, with the bitch and her employees filing out of the office in complete defeat. Its cathartic you know, the sight of my nemesis dying. I grin to myself as Wonder Boy brings up the rear and locks up the glass doors for the last time. I feel bad for the HR buddies though. They were my only friends in that dump. I should have a word with the new office, see whether there''s an opening available for them. The bitch catches sight of me and stalks forward angrily. My smirk grows even broader. "You." she snarls, "What are you doing here?" "Taking in the sights." I laugh, waiving the can of beer in the bitch''s face, "Want a drink before leaving?" "I know what you did. Get out." she cries, "Get out!" "No." I sneer, "Its a public area. And what did I do again?" Wonder Boy, Golden Boy or whatever his name is notices the altercation and begins rushing towards the two of us. "You did this." the bitch hisses, "I know you did." "That''s slander." I sigh, clutching at my chest while looking hurt, "Stop besmirching my good name." The bitch looks as if she is about to slap me across the face but Wonder Golden Boy squeezes her shoulder just in time to calm her down. Wonder Golden Boy gazes expressionlessly at me as he leads the bitch away in silence. I see off the pair with a cheerful wave and as they depart from the building, a weight lifts from my heart. I did it. I killed the shadow. I am free. I finish off the beer and toss the can into the trash. Well, that''s that I suppose. End of story. But the building''s PA system crackles to life with an announcement. "Transmigrator, the individual identified as ''Wonder Golden Boy'' is a threat to the stability of this dimension. I require you to eliminate him." Pardon? "I have prepared the necessary weapons in the men''s washroom. Proceed to get yourself equipped." the PA system then cuts off. What''s going on? All this sounds familiar. But seriously? Why should I kill Wonder Golden Boy? I have made my point, live and let live, right? My left eye begins to itch something right terrible. Is it infected or something? An overwhelming sense of unease grips me. I know that I should not humor whomever sent that message. Whatever business we had in the past is just that. The past. Debts repaid and all that. I begin walking towards the building''s exit. The itch in my eye grows worse, becoming absolutely overwhelming. I begin rubbing it in an attempt to ease the discomfort, and my hand becomes slick with red. Blood. I am bleeding from my eye. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. And with an audible pop, the eye flies out of the socket and bounces across the marble floor, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. A single phrase comes to my mind. Place of power. This building has become a place of power. Animal terror surges throughout my body as my eye bounces merrily towards the washroom. Ignore it. Just ignore it. I need to leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. I bolt for the exit, as blood freely flows down my face. The PA system comes to life again with a disapproving crackle. "Disappointing. I was expecting a long time collaborator to be somewhat more amenable. Still, this is not completely unexpected." I remember. I remember everything. "We are through!" I shout at The Voice as I close in on the exit, "I did my part! There''s nothing more to talk about!" "Wrong." The Voice''s trademark rasp echoes throughout the lobby, "You said it yourself to Mrs Alley. You are part of my little gang now. We will never be through." The doors of the exit burst open inwards, slamming painfully into me and sending my body sprawling across the floor. "We will never be through Transmigrator." The Voice continues, "Never ever." A figure clad in a black trench coat and wearing a hood strides into the building, staring daggers at me. The doors slam shit behind him and lock with a definitive click. "Thankfully, I have a new servant at my disposal." The Voice concludes, "Your presence while welcome, is no longer actually necessary." The Executioner unsheathes the double handed sword strapped to his back and draws inexorably closer. I scoot backwards on my butt and slam against the lobby''s reception counter. The PA system booms one final time. "Goodbye." ..... "Shit!" I shout into the darkness. I can''t move. Can''t see either. Somewhere near me, I hear a woman snoring. "Calm down." the familiar rasp sounds in my ear, "I have merely shut down your body''s optic and automotive functions so that I can regrow the lost eye." "Cool." I mutter, my throat loosening up, cold sweat running down my back, "Where am I anyway?" "My place of power in the sarcophagus." The Voice says, "Were you having a nightmare perhaps? Care to share? It might steady your nerves." "Nah. Its all good." I demur. That was more than a nightmare. It felt too real, too significant. A premonition perhaps. A warning given by my intuition? Whatever the case, its not something I should be sharing with The Voice. "Who''s snoring?" I ask, hoping to change the subject. "Mrs Alley. She is resting from the excitement of her adventure." The Voice rasps, "Both of you performed admirably. The plan has been brought to fruition." As The Voice speaks, I hear the hum of nearby machinery powering up. I recognize that noise. Its coming from the Inclinator''s engines. "So the Hero''s all fixed and raring to go?" I query, "No strange discoveries? No unexpected setbacks?" "None at all." The Voice confirms, "Even better. I had the opportunity not only to repair the Hero, but deal with a loose end. I am preparing to send him back up to the surface for the benefit of his adoring audience." "That''s great, I suppose." I sigh in relief, "So Alley and I are just cooling our heels here? Getting some TLC from you?" "Enjoy the time off Transmigrator." The Voice confirms, "The Hero needs a moment to bask in the limelight while you and Mrs Alley to lay low for awhile. Lie back and relax." "I can''t move thanks to you." I remark dourly as I hear the Inclinator in the distance beginning its long ascent back to the surface. .... Irene. My lover. My wife to be. We were going to get married. And then? Everything is a haze. As if there''s something pressing down against my head. Why can''t I think clearly? Someone tried to kidnap her. I think? There was a chase. I was chasing ... I was chasing a SUV. Yes, that wrecked SUV in the corner of the Inclinator. There were other cars as well. Driven by Legion soldiers. Coming after me. Trying to stop me from saving Irene. The Legion soldiers were led by, led by someone? Of course they were led by someone. What''s wrong with me? My mind is working so slowly. Focus. Remember. The Legion was led by someone, someone close to me. My eyes grow acclimatized to the darkness around me and I take in the details of a pair of wrecked cars smashed against the SUV. A flash of insight, a memory triggering in my head. Nicholas. The Legion soldiers were led by Nicholas. He wanted to stop me from saving Irene. I wouldn''t have any of that, so we fought. Corpses are all over the Inclinator, filling the place with the rank smell of death. Did I kill Nicholas? My mind rattles, searching for the information. The wheels turn, and another part of my brain lights up. No. I did not kill Nicholas. We fought, I hurt him and he got away. But his men kept trying to get to Irene. So I stayed behind to protect her. As the memories flood into my consciousness, I feel myself becoming more aware, more alert. What happened next? Come on, I know I can recall this! The three cars fled into the Inclinator, and then I rushed inside as well. But then, but then ... Then nothing. Just darkness. My memory just can''t recollect anything more. But I can make a guess. I fought the Legion soldiers, the corpses are proof of that. Above me, I hear the grate of a blast door opening. The pieces fall in place. The battle must have triggered the sarcophagus''s security system, sealing us all inside the Inclinator shaft. It must have been for some time as well, judging by the smell of the corpses. Our rescuers probably just managed to perform an override, allowing the Inclinator to bring us back up to The City. Soon enough, the Inclinator ceases its ascent and comes to a stop with a gentle sway. The shutters in front of me unseal and starts to rise with a metallic rattle. Sunlight begins to peek in through the gap. Its over. Its almost over. The light begins to wash over me. But there is still something missing. Where is Irene? Then I notice it. A damp, stinking weight in my arms, wrapped in white lace and silk. No. I feel my spirit core begin to heat up, overflowing with power. Blood seeps from the object I am carrying, soaking into the sleeves of my suit. No! The shutter completely rises, and the gears of my mind make their final revolution, unlocking the installed direc - no memory. I carry the bloody corpse in my arms in a princess carry, and as instruc - as my emotions overwhelm me, tears start to flow from my eyes. I walk out, into the flashing camera of the press that has gathered at the Inclinator. My lips move in the specified fashion. My lungs holler. My knees performed a synchronized drop to the ground. "Nooooooooo!" But my heart is empty. Hero of Justice The ORPO officer at the desk hands me a form with my personal details typed all over it. "Your name is Tensei von Amsterg." the officer states in a bored voice, "Confirm your name and other details. Sign beneath your statement that has been attached as an appendix." I check my personal details and the statement the officer had typed out based on what I dictated to him. Everything seems to be in order. I pick up the pen offered by the officer and sign in the box marked "WITNESS". The ORPO officer accepts the documents in silence and brings out a brown file where the statement is dropped into. He then continues typing into his computer without paying any further attention to me. "I''ll never forgive Nicholas for this." I whisper to myself while settling on to the old seat smelling strongly of tobacco. I hear the noise of the printer on the officer''s desk begin spooling up before it spits out another document for the case file. Updated investigation journal. That''s what the heading on the new document says at any rate. The officer opens a drawer and retrieves a stamp, bringing it down on the sheet of paper with a thump. "Mmhmm. You do that Mr von Amsterg." the ORPO officer answers indifferently as he starts sorting through the file in front of me. I begin to shift about restlessly. I should be out there, looking for Nicholas, not staying here at ORPO HQ putting up with a detective that clearly couldn''t care less about Irene being dead. What is there to detect? Nicholas did it. Its as clear as day. Why are we wasting time here? Irene doesn''t need paperwork typed up in her name. Her memory needs, no demands, justice. While I ruminate, stewing in my impatience, a leathery, mustachioed man emerges from deeper within the office and walks right up to the detective handling Irene''s case. The mustachioed man gives me a significant look but says nothing, choosing instead to fish out a cigar from his pocket and begins lighting up. I tap my fingers with agitated fervor against the detective''s desk as he takes his own sweet time leafing through the file. The mustachioed man smirks at me and extends his hand in greeting. "Commander Hernandez." the man says, "Sorry for your loss. " I shake the proffered hand and ask pointedly, "Commander, am I still needed here?" Instead of answering me, Hernandez turns to the detective, "You are compiling the statements from all the other witnesses right?" The officer nods briefly and goes back to typing at his computer. Hernandez bends down and looks at the screen. "Alright. Let''s do this quickly then." Hernandez instructs, "I got the suspect held in remand right now. Let''s get it over with." My ears prick up at Hernandez''s comment. They got the suspect already? "You have Nicholas?" I question eagerly. Wonderful, wonderful. If I can settle things right now with him, that would really be for the best. Blood calls for blood. "No. The suspect who kidnapped your wife." Hernandez explains to me. "Which is Nicholas." I reiterate. Hernandez rubs his face in exasperation, "The person in the gas mask. That guy. Who attacked you. Kidnapped your wife. Beat up a small army''s worth of your Uncle''s guards. And beheaded your childhood tutor. Got it?" "Nicholas." no its not, but it is. Right? Yes. Nicholas is the only one that matters. I must fight Nicholas. I must kill Nicholas. My head hurts, making it easy to think. No wait, I can''t think. I shouldn''t think. Just go with the flow. Go with Nicholas. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Nicholas. "No he''s not Nicholas." Hernandez grits out, "Come on, get your head on straight." Hernandez then runs through my written statement and points out a series of paragraphs to me. "That guy. That guy you''re referring to in these paragraphs. You got it?" Hernandez waives the statement in my face. I nod in the affirmative. Of course I got it. Its all linked to Nicholas at the end of the day. Hernandez gives me a dubious expression before sighing. The detective looks up from the computer and reports to the Commander. "All done here Commander. We can move on with the ID Parade." the detective says. "Yeah." Hernandez stifles a yawn, "I''ve been there the whole morning. This is going to be the sixth witness, you know? We still have around thirty minutes on the clock for the suspect''s remand. After that we will have to release him. So chop chop." Hernandez tiredly gestures at me and I get up from my seat, falling in behind him. The detective settles into a relaxed stride by my side and the three of us wander down the fluorescent lit hallways of the ORPO HQ with its cracking plaster and oddly subdued ambiance. In the background are officers typing away at their desks. Some squads are preparing to sally forth on their bikes or patrol cars. "You saw the videos?" Hernandez suddenly blurts out to the detective, "Every single one of them is like that." The detective answers, "Yeah. You don''t think -" but Hernandez quickly shakes his head and the detective promptly shuts up. Soon enough, we make it to a darkened room divided in two by a glass partition. The detective goes to shut the door, while Hernandez begins speaking into an intercom installed into the wall. "Alright. Last one for the day." Hernandez says, "Bring them out." The sound of a buzzer is heard and a group of five men, each wearing a black trench coat, file out into the other side of the room. "Face the mirror." Hernandez instructs through the intercom, "and one by one step forward and shout ''I object''." The group of men straightens out into a line and as ordered step forward one at a time, shouting the words Hernandez told them to. Their voices are piped into our side of the room, letting us hear what they are saying. Hernandez regards me evenly, "Alright. You had a front row seat when the attack went down. Which one of these guys kidnapped Irene Scott?" I cast my eyes across the motley group before me, irritation raising its ugly head once more. Why are we wasting time? Time that could be used to storm that yacht Nicholas hides himself in. Do we even need an investigation done at this point? "None of them are Nicholas." I answer flatly. "The guy who kidnapped your wife." Hernandez snaps, "For crying out loud, will you stop talking about Nicholas for just one second?" "Nicholas kidnapped Irene." I point out, very correctly I must say. The quality of policing has gone down the drain ever since SOPO got dissolved. "Fine. You know what?" Hernandez glares at me critically, "Identify the man who attacked you with a gas grenade and shot at you with dual wielded rifles. Can you do that?" Oh that''s simple. He may have been wearing a gas mask during the attack, but I would recognize Gallant''s over enthusiastic, slightly deranged voice anywhere. And Gallant is standing right there in the ID parade, second from the left. "Sure. Its that guy over there." I answer, my hand pointing to the rightmost man. I try to shift my arm about, but the limb revolts against me, refusing to budge an inch. "You sure?" the detective asks for confirmation. Hernandez scrunches his face up in an unhappy and somewhat fearful look. Sweat beads my face as I redouble my efforts at bringing my arm back under control. "Yes. That guy. Over there." I say, my finger jabbing accusingly at the rightmost man. Why in the world is it doing that? I clench my fist and finally manage to force my right arm down towards my side, groaning from the effort. "You OK there?" Hernandez queries, chewing on his cigar nervously. No I''m not. What''s wrong with me? Why can''t I do this simple thing? Whenever I try to lift my arm to point at Gallant, my shoulder just locks up painfully in disapproval. But I''m not done just yet. If my arm won''t cooperate, then I''ll just call out Gallant by his name. But a bolt of pain lances through my brain, setting it on fire. My throat closes up and no words come from my mouth. Can''t think. No, I shouldn''t think at all. My traitorous right arm springs back into action, pointing at the rightmost man again. "That one. That one." the words drone from my mouth, like a song set on repeat. "Alright fine." Hernandez finally manages to grunt after a long silence before going back to the intercom, "We''re done here for the day. Take them back to the lockup." The suspects file back out of the room in silence, but I realize one of them is flashing a smile at me. Gallant. He knows what is going on with my body. I want to shout, tell him to stop right there. To explain himself before everyone. But why bother? He''s not Nicholas after all. The Game Changer One day earlier I prod the skin around the repaired eye gingerly, feeling about for any lingering damage or scar tissue. Not being able to just look at myself in a mirror is one hell of an inconvenience. Still, there''s no damage, at least nothing I can actually feel from my tactile sense. And the eye works normally as well. Nothing freaky or unusual about it. I give a sigh of relief as the banks of monitors in the Sarcophagus''s control room cycle through camera footage, system diagnostics and wire frame images of The City. Lying unattended on a mattress is the dozing figure of Alley, sedated by The Voice until we are ready to move her back up to the surface. The Voice had gone silent for the past few hours, scanning the data coming in from the Sarcophagus''s systems. For what purpose, I was not able to discern, but it clearly did not want to be disturbed. But from what I can see from the monitors, nothing particularly unusual has happened in The City. The system diagnostics don''t display any error messages either. Its really just another day of what passes as normal in this world. The Voice gave me control over one monitor at the control station for my own personal use. After plenty of fiddling about, I finally managed to get the monitor to display the broadcast of some local TV station. Except there was nothing interesting on, just some boring ass travel program about the sights and sounds of Tokyo III. Apparently it had been rebuilt after several nukes were dropped on it when a pack of giant monsters fielded by the Host decided to invade. Attractions include a giant underground bunker that could house the entire city and something called an Intercept System, whatever that is. But I was not zoning out in front of the TV. While the presenter was droning on about Tokyo III being able to jump in and out of the ground like a jack in the box, I had found a legit source of entertainment. Alley. You see, in her comatose state, Alley had reverted to her natural appearance. A saggy, wrinkly, overweight woman. With a surprisingly jiggly body. Out of boredom, I had begun to prod Alley''s body to try provoking a reaction out of her. And that was when I realized that Alley could quiver like a mountain of jelly. I made a game out of it, where I would begin stacking the miscellaneous bric brac scattered around the control room into a tower on top of Alley''s gut. Then I would begin prodding her to start the jiggling. The challenge of course, would be to see how high I could build my little tower of garbage before it all comes tumbling down. The problem is, this game had gotten boring as well. There''s only so much jiggling I can take. With a grumble I turn back to the TV just in time for a new program to start. A comedy skit show from the looks of it. A pair of elderly men walk up on to the stage, one with a goatee while the other scratches his rotund belly. "Now showing, Tom and Ted reading classified transcripts." the announcer says. Huh. Classified shit huh? Might be interesting. "Redacted, I love you so much." the goatee guy, Tom says. "Is it alright for us to keep doing it in this forest? I don''t want to get you even more dirty." his partner Ted fires back. "Redacted, I want it. I want your redacted inside of me again." "Unh, unh, ah, ah." Wow, that''s a really deadpan voice Ted has. "Redacted, unh, ahn, what about your Uncle?" "I don''t care about what he thinks. I only want you, redacted. Aah. Aah." Ted grunts awkwardly into the mike, "You''re alright with redacted being involved as well right? Aaaah." "I don''t care about redacted. Or even redacted. I just want your redacted. Every drop of it. Nnnh."Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. "Ah. Ah. Ah." "Nng. Harder. Harder. Unh." "Ah. Ah. AAAAHHHH." Ted opens his mouth wide like he''s seeing the dentist, his deadpan voice never wavering. This shit is absolute gold. "Redacted, its so big." Tom drones, sounding utterly bored, "I can''t take it all." "Ah. Ah. Ah. Feels. So. Good." "No. Its too big. Take it out. Take it out." "AAAAAWWWWWRRRR." Ted makes a noise that is a cross between a lion''s roar and screeching tires. "I am being split in two. It hurts. It hurts." Tom says, biting down on his knuckles. Is this for real? Are they reading from a legit transcript? "TAKE IT OUT." Tom suddenly shouts at the top of his voice, taking me by surprise. Silence descends on the stage. "And that concludes Tom and Ted reading classified transcripts." the announcer declares, to the audience''s applause as the screen fades to black. What in the world did I just watch? Was that meant to be what passes for ero in this dimension? I feel distinctly not aroused. "Transmigrator." The Voice cuts in. "Wait, let me guess." I quickly interrupt, "My intervention is required? Problem with the Hero''s love life? Incompatible socket sizes?" "If you are done being snide," The Voice huffs, "We have a serious problem on our hands." "I''ll say." I smirk, "Taking it out goes against the very spirit of this quest, doesn''t it?" "Do you think I would allow that trash to be screened on television, damaging the Hero''s reputation further?" The Voice scowls. "No? Don''t tell me you want me to go beat up the performers or something like that." I raise an inquisitive eyebrow, "That''s surprisingly petty of you." "You are missing the point." The Voice rasps, "The program was screening just now because I could not stop it." What? That''s totally out of the blue there. "I cannot see or interact with anything on the surface." The Voice rumbles, "We have been completely cut off from topside of The City." "Uh. The monitors are working fine." I point out, "And I see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary going on up there." "I know." The Voice responds, "I am seeing the exact same thing as you are. Through the monitors. My ability to directly observe The City is lost. As if I have somehow been blinded." Blinded? Damn it. My fists clench in consternation. While I have been recovering and laying low, our enemies have not been idle. "Celeste." I grind out between my teeth, "This is her doing. She has managed to spread her influence throughout The City while we have been hiding in the Sarcophagus. The question is, how?" "I have been trying to answer that question myself." The Voice replies, "That was the reason why I have been using the Sarcophagus''s systems to observe the surface. Unfortunately, my search has turned up nothing. Whatever the Servant is doing is probably beyond the ability of mundane surveillance to track." "But I can see the thread of Fate." I murmur, "Celeste cannot hide herself from my sight." "Precisely." The Voice confirms, "This is not my preferred course of action, but I need you to sally forth and investigate this anomaly." "Shouldn''t be an issue." I shrug, "Your upgraded trench coat worked exactly as advertised. With the core online, I can handle whatever is thrown at me." "Stay cautious." The Voice reprimands, "I am unable to provide a briefing on what threats, if any, you will face on the surface. You will be flying completely blind. We will also be cut off from each other once you leave the Sarcophagus." "Your places of power though, like the SUV and the apartment at the Academy." I muse, "Shouldn''t those areas be safe? We can contact each other there right?" "Yes and no." The Voice hesitates for a moment, "My places of power are indeed safe and you will be able to rest there. However, that does not change the fact that I have been cut off by the servant. I will not be able to spawn equipment for you or repair your body in those places of power as long as this situation lasts." Making those safe zones almost completely worthless. I suppose sleeping there is an option, but without the opportunity to resupply and repair my body, I would be better off retreating back to the Sarcophagus. That also means I need to really pick my fights carefully. But if my guess is right, there should be a way to get round this limitation. "I want to try bringing the places of power online first." I say, "Handling the servant without support is just crazy." "A fair enough point." The Voice rasps, "Remember one thing though, you are known to the servant. If The City has truly fallen to her influence, you will be detected the moment you set foot on the surface." Yeah. I remember the thrashing red thread trying to close in on me at the hospital when we first encountered each other. Celeste does not actually need to see me to activate her powers. Its as if she has some kind of sixth sense that can track my presence as long as it is within her range. But then again, I have a partner in crime now, don''t I? "Wake Alley up." I declare clapping my hands together, "Its time to get to work." Shadows Of The Future "Will you stop rubbing your breasts?" I grumble at Alley while leading her towards the underground monorail platform, "Its really gross." Alley scowls accusingly at me as she kneads her boobs, wincing in pain, "My chest is sore. Did you do anything to me while I was unconscious?" "I most certainly did not." I deny, telling the truth, if not the whole truth. A mutual friend had provided a number of enhancements to Alley while she was sleeping. The soreness she''s complaining about must be a residual effect from the surgery. As to why enhancing Alley had become necessary, it all boiled down to the possibility of Celeste having taken over the topside of The City. Even assuming that Celeste''s attention would be fully on me the moment I emerge on the surface, Alley''s chances of completing her part of the mission were low. She needed the upgrades The Voice had installed to stand even a fighting chance. Of course I could not just say all this to Alley. First of all, she had lived her entire life in ignorance regarding the conflict between The Voice and Fate. Alley would most probably just dismiss my account of events as a pack of fanciful lies. More dangerous would be Alley actually believing me. If she got herself captured and began to squeal, Fate would know about The Voice''s control over the Sarcophagus and certainly contest it. There would be no safe place for me to retreat to, if things went pear shaped. All in all, keeping Alley in the dark was the better choice overall. The monorail glides smoothly to a stop at the platform in front of us and the doors open with a hiss. I hand over the small cardboard box and the bag of cash in my hands to Alley. "You have the address?" I ask for confirmation, "Clear on what you need to do?" Alley nods, her face a mask of concentration, "Take the shuttle to Six Trees platform. Leave the Sarcophagus using the Inclinator. Then go to the Hills building." I give a thumbs up, "Full marks. You know which building I''m talking about right? The one with the offices and shopping center? What comes after that?" Alley frowns slightly as she answers my little pop quiz, "Go to the basement car park. There''s an office lot inside. Plug in whatever is inside this box into the data port there. That''s all right?" I give a thumbs up, "Bravo. The key to the office is inside the box. Alright, get going. And drop that look on your face. Its not as if I''m asking you to do something illegal." Alley narrows her eyes in annoyance as she quibbles, "Then why don''t you do it yourself then?" "Because I''ll be busy with something else." I roll my eyes, "Once you are done with the job, you can head home or back to the Academy or whatever. Unless you want to join me later?" "No! Anything but that." Alley dismisses with an awkward movement of her hand carrying the box, "I''ll be leaving then." She quickly steps into the shuttle and the doors shut with finality, before the shuttle itself charges down the line, disappearing into the darkness. Godspeed you saggy, jiggly old woman. Not that anyone would know now that you have cast your illusions. May your adventure last longer than your husband''s who got himself eaten by lions at the glorified safari park. "Why were Alley''s tits so sore anyway?" I ask The Voice as I begin heading back to the control station. The Voice rasps, "I had replaced Mrs Alley''s breast implants with a set made out of the same composite material used in your new armor. She is probably still getting used to the change in weight and balance of her breasts." "Uh, why did you do that?" I mutter dumbfounded, "What do breast implants have to do with anything?" "If the servant has indeed taken over The City, Mrs Alley will immediately be subject to psychic attack the moment she leaves the Inclinator." The Voice explains, "The upgraded breast implants serve the same function as your armor, shielding Mrs Alley from the servant''s malign influence." "Makes sense I suppose." I grunt in the affirmative, "I''m surprised that Alley went along with so little complaints though. I thought that another stern talking to would be needed."If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "Again, you can thank the breast implants for Mrs Alley''s amenable behavior." The Voice rumbles, "The implants are a divine mark of sorts, fortifying Mrs Alley''s willpower and determination." "And her loyalty to you as well?" I ask, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. "Actually no." The Voice denies, "Mrs Alley already knows on a subconscious level that her well being completely hinges on our victory. As one of our collaborators, she would not survive for long in a world ruled by Fate." I open the door to the control room while considering what The Voice just said. It sounds true on the basic level, but there''s also something off about the explanation, as if The Voice is omitting something important. "How would Alley know all that sub-consciously, when she is obviously ignorant?" I probe, "You telling me that her mind can draw conclusions from connections that don''t exist?" "How do I put this?" The Voice muses, "It sounds strange to you because you are an outsider to this reality. You are aware that destiny is a force in this dimension, correct?" "Well, duh." I agree, "That has been fairly obvious." "Then this explanation will be simple." The Voice sighs in relief at the realization that giving me the skinny won''t take too much effort on its part. "Think back to when you first met the Hero." The Voice picks up the thread once more, "You correctly guessed his identity as the Hero, despite never meeting him before and with no hints from me. You were manifestly ignorant at that point in time, yet you figured out one of the world''s secrets. How?" "Because he looked like the Hero." I point out, "Tensei is so obviously a hero character. The signs were all there." "What signs?" The Voice presses. "His distinctive looks for one." I say, "Then the really unusual spirit core. It all screams ''main character'' or ''hero''. You know what I mean?" "There are mundane explanations for those observations." The Voice rasps, "The Hero could merely be a handsome young man. An unusual spirit core also is not proof of his identity as the world''s hero. It could merely be what it is, an unusual spirit core." I walk into the control room and pull out a chair, assuming the pose of the famous Thinker. "Your counterpoint has a problem." I shoot back, "You can''t look at the signs in isolation. It all has to be taken in as a whole." "Indeed." The Voice agrees, "Odd pieces of information considered as a whole can lead to unexpected revelations. It is the same with Mrs Alley. Destiny is not a clean process Transmigrator. It is possible to alter its course, and with every twist, destiny leaves traces of itself in the world, minute glimpses of a future that might be." "No way." I snort, "What I am talking about is regular deduction, not some mystical crap." "Can you deny it Transmigrator?" The Voice laughs, "Your battle with Master Chance had the mark of destiny on it. The distant past finally catching up to the present, and with that birthing a new future. A future where Master Chance is dead. The signs, as you put it, were all there. You just did not notice them." I sink into the chair, contemplating The Voice''s words. Damn, all this suddenly getting way too complicated. "Back to the topic at hand." The Voice continues, "I had examined Mrs Alley''s brain activity and can confirm that despite her waspish behavior, she is not hostile or fearful towards you, unlike before. Such a huge change in attitude can only come from an equally large switch in perspective." "Future sight? Really?" I query, not quite accepting this explanation. It sounds a bit too far fetched for my taste. "Not exactly." The Voice clarifies, "The future cast shadows on us all. This shadow does not allow true clairvoyance, after all you cannot truly know something that does not yet exist. However it can form the basis of an educated guess." "A glimpse of what may be?" I mutter, recalling what The Voice said earlier. "A moment of insight." The Voice elaborates, "Frequently misunderstood, mostly incomplete and always distorted. The subconscious mind is not a particularly able interlocutor. Nevertheless, a nugget of truth can be extracted from its wanderings." I purse my lips. I had seen this world as a VN world, or something that played very close to the same rules. Babbling about magical realism aside, The Voice was talking about something really not all that outlandish. The shadow of the future, cast on the past. Foreshadowing in other words. Then a memory hits me as sweat beads my brow. The memory of the dream I had while unconscious. And what The Voice had said to me in that dream. We will never be through Transmigrator. Never. Ever. My mouth goes dry. Is this my destiny? To choose between slavery or death? A news broadcast plays on the control terminal, running a repeat of the report showing the Hero''s grand reappearance before the public. There''s a still shot being displayed on the screen, of the Hero on his knees, cradling a bloodstained corpse swaddled in a wedding gown. "I remember Big Tits being alive." I say cautiously. "Something must have happened." The Voice answers indifferently, "It is of no concern though. Master Chance is dead. There is no longer any reason for us to tolerate a complicating factor such as Irene Scott." No longer. Tolerate. Complicating factor. Its the same reasoning The Voice used in my dream to justify having me killed. So, is that my glimpse of insight? But where do I go from here? A Crimson World I suck my breath in and release it with a low hiss, the cogs in my head turning all the while. The Voice continues talking, unaware of the doubts swirling in my mind. "I have prepared the SUV in the Inclinator for your use on the surface." The Voice rasps, "While we will still be cut off from each other once you begin your mission, the SUV can at least provide you with some measure of protection from whatever is going on out there." "Cool. Thanks." I reply, turning my attention back to the present, "When will you be able to bring the Pit back online?" "It all depends on how quickly Mrs Alley can complete her assignment." The Voice rumbles, "The device I prepared for her will force the Pit''s data port to link with this control station. Once that is done, I will isolate the line and use it as an umbilical to reconnect with the isolated place of power." "Why the Pit though?" I query, "Its the least comfortable of your topside hideouts. When I proposed this idea to you I was actually thinking of the apartment at the Academy, or at the very least the abandoned store." "Caution must trump over comfort Transmigrator." The Voice notes disapprovingly, "If our guess is correct, you will not be able to evade the sight of the servant once you step out of the Inclinator. Retreating to the Academy or the store would allow Fate to simply set up a siege and bottle you up, giving it a free hand to act." "Fair enough." I allow while getting up from the chair and doing some stretches, "But how would the Pit be any different then?" "Unit density." The Voice explains, "The Pit is located within the Hills, a commercial and office complex of considerable size, and that is not counting the residential portions of the development." I think back to my time spent at the Pit. Sure enough, there were plenty of stores and offices in the same building I was hiding in. Gallant''s sister had been tailing me during that time, but she failed to discern my actual hiding spot. There were just too many places to search, especially once you take into account the fact that I could easily convert any one of the lots into a makeshift apartment. The size of the building and its multitude of floors did not help either. "I get what you are saying. I will still need to be careful moving in and out though." I grunt, stroking my chin. Unfortunately, we would not be able to reconnect the SUV to The Voice if the surface was under Celeste''s grip. It was not possible to set up a physical connection between the SUV and the Sarcophagus without sacrificing the mobile hobo base''s biggest advantage. The simple fact that it could actually move about. That''s also not mentioning how suspicious the SUV would become if it trailed a massive length of cable behind it regardless of where it went. Forget about a wireless connection. Anything not underground had become off limits. Under the circumstances, the Pit was really the best choice despite my dislike of staying in what was basically a glorified lavatory. I hear the sound of the Inclinator powering up. Its almost go time. "Just so." The Voice agrees, "More incentive for you to resolve this problem then. Now move out. The longer you tarry, the more dangerous the situation becomes for us." "You don''t know that though." I respond but begin walking towards the Inclinator anyway, "The Sarcophagus''s systems show nothing particularly unusual is happening." "The risk involved is nevertheless too great." The Voice rasps, "Especially now that we are on the final lap of the contest between Fate and myself." "True enough." I allow, entering the Inclinator and stopping before the SUV parked within. Opening the vehicle''s boot, I note that it is completely bare. "At least arm me properly if you think it is going to be so dangerous up there." I point out, "I might get ambushed or something. And spawn some medical supplies, or healing potions. Whatever the locals have to fix themselves up after a scrap." "Combat should be your last resort." The Voice hums, "Not until you can unravel the mystery of what is going on in The City. But very well." The boot abruptly slams shut with a bang and quickly yawns wide open again, this time loaded with the revolver and several boxes of ammunition. The retractable baton lies by the gun''s side as well, waiting for action. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "No medicine or healing items?" I ask, narrowing my eyes, feeling the figurative chain tied to my neck being yanked. "None are needed." The Voice demurs, "You should not be engaging in combat in the first place. At any rate, you can always return here or to the Pit if your body requires repair." "Sure." I agree blandly while holstering the revolver and stowing the baton away, no point making a fuss about this kind of thing now, not that it would do much good anyway, "Wish me luck." ..... "Good luck." The Voice rasps as the Inclinator comes to a stop and the shutters begin to rise, "Control of the SUV has been turned over to you." "Talk to you later." I confirm and press down on the accelerator, easing the SUV out of the giant elevator. As the vehicle emerges from the cavernous darkness, I shield my eyes in preparation of being blinded by being exposed to sunlight after so many days living underground. Except there is no sun. That''s odd, the cameras in the control center clearly show that its daytime right now. There is light though, its not as if I need to turn on the SUV''s headlamps or anything. So what exactly is going on? I glance upwards and my breath is taken away. No wonder The Voice needed cameras wired to the Sarcophagus to see anything. Red threads slash across the sky, forming a dome over The City. The threads emit an aura of power, painting what should be a blue canvas completely crimson. The thread itself is not woven densely though, with plenty of large gaps in the dome, causing it to resemble an incomplete tapestry. Turning my eyes back to the road and the surrounding area, I note that other than being bathed in the sinister glow coming from the threads above, the streets are completely free of any weirdness. So its true then. Celeste did manage to extend her influence throughout The City. But she performed the feat in a very slipshod fashion, most probably due to limitations in her power. The dome sealing The City off is clearly incomplete. The anti access zone is instead maintained by a sort of area of effect phenomena being exerted by the threads themselves. That is probably why The Voice still has limited awareness of what is going on here. The red threads have not attacked any of the cameras hooked up to the sarcophagus. Celeste probably doesn''t have the energy to be quite so thorough. As the SUV begins trundling down the street at a sedate pace, the crimson shade cast over everything makes the Dreaming Spires District look like an alien planet. Obviously this is thanks to my unique visual range, the locals just getting on with their day clearly can''t tell that anything is wrong. Well, whatever, I have a much bigger problem to worry about now. Namely what am I supposed to do? The Voice gave me no leads to kick this investigation off. Don''t tell me I need to map out the red threads by hand in order to back trace it to the originating point. That''s a tall, no make that an impossible order, given the size of The City and the fact that I am just one man. As I am cursing to myself about the scale of the challenge before me, my heart sinks again as the SUV reaches a major intersection. I had spoke to soon about the streets being clean of Celeste''s power. Just ahead of me is a solid wall of red, cutting clean across the intersection. I can see cars passing through it without incident, but the wall''s purpose is clear. Its a tripwire, or more likely a scanner, being used by Celeste to keep track of vehicles and pedestrians. Damn it. I quickly make a turn, driving away from the solid wall of crimson as swiftly as possible. No need to force the issue when I still haven''t decided where to go yet. That can wait until I work out a route through the blocked streets. One step at a time. ..... There is no route through the streets. No matter where I drive to, any major intersection will have that wall of red blocking it off. I have to give Celeste credit for the way she planned this. My movements have effectively been boxed in. I slap the SUV''s dashboard in annoyance and slow down to park by the side of the road. Think. There has to be a way to overcome this blockade. Celeste is nowhere near powerful enough to make it airtight. Well there is a way, but I don''t think it would actually help with my mission. I could abandon the SUV and begin parkouring along the roofs and walls of the buildings around me. From what I can see, moving along such a route would allow me to evade the magical tripwires. Unfortunately, it would also mean that I would be travelling on foot, turning an already daunting, time consuming mission into a gargantuan challenge. While I spend my days jumping up and down rooftops, Celeste would be free to do whatever she is planning, free of interference. But as unpleasant as that prospect sounds, staying in the SUV does me no good either, unless I am willing to chance setting off a tripwire. And that''s a silly idea through and through. No point stewing in the car about it though. I might as well stretch my legs a bit, maybe get a new idea while I''m at it. Making up my mind, I shut the SUV''s engine off and open the door, stepping out into an alien world. But before I can take another step, a sudden pain tears across my face, burning, mutilating and forcing me to my knees. I instinctively paw at my face, but there''s no blood or other injury there. Just the pain, that overwhelming searing pain. I hear a crowd beginning to gather around me, but I can''t drum up the willpower to care. Tears begin welling up in my eyes, and a hot flood runs down one of my cheeks. My face is in pain. My world has become pain. Darkness closes in. My sight begins to fade as a sense of disorientation overtakes me. I struggle back to my feet realizing something. My vision has been halved. The darkness only covers one side of my face, the eye that The Voice supposedly repaired. Its blind. The Eternal Slave Night falls and the Blackguards mount their horses as the castle guards begin turning a crank linked to a heavy iron chain, causing the heavy wooden gate to rise. The guards gasp and strain against the rusted, poorly maintained mechanism, before finally managing to lock the gate in place with a sigh of relief. The Blackguards pay them no heed and merely thunder off into the night, heading towards the village resting at the foot of the castle, seeking more sacrifices to satiate the blood lust of the True Emperor. The castle guards shake their heads in resentment at this lack of respect, but it is something they should have expected. Servants are meant to serve, not be seen. It is a lesson I had learned a long time ago. I was trained to serve. I was born to serve. I was sold into service. My parents are a man and a woman. That is the only thing I know of them. The castle chamberlain told me that when the moment I was able to walk, my parents sold me to the King in return for a bag of copper. The Chamberlain seemed upset about it. Apparently whomever handled the transaction overpaid for me. What is my name? I have no name. The castle did not bother to record my identification when I had been brought to them. I was merely a servant. One out of many. Sometimes I am a stable hand as well. I did not need a name. I only needed to know how to obey. That is enough for someone like me. As a servant I am beneath the sight of my betters. Just as the castle guards, the knights and the learned men are beneath the notice of the Blackguards. I quietly draw out the long iron nail stolen from the stables. Originally used to fix horseshoes on to the hooves of the knight''s steeds, I quickly slip the nail in between the gears that control the gate. As the guards release the bolts holding the gate up, the gears begin grinding in reverse, clanking all the while. The teeth of the gears snap up the iron nail and it swiftly becomes wedged fast like a stuck toothpick. There''s a metallic groan of protest as the gears chew at the nail, but it refuses to yield, causing the entire set of machinery to seize up. With that done, I pick up my shovel and openly walk past the guards and begin cleaning up the horse droppings left scattered around the area. The guards don''t bother giving me another glance and move towards the machinery, investigating the breakdown. They wrestle with the gears, muttering curses, trying to dislodge the nail to no avail. Good, everything is going according to plan. They would need to call the blacksmith when morning comes in order to dismantle the gears. That gives me the time I need to do what is necessary. To rescue Princess Anri. As I make my way towards the knight''s stables, my mind reflects on just why I am doing this. I have been treated as a servant in my time at the castle, no better and no worse. It is an indifferent but fair arrangement. I have friends here as well, both among the other indentured servants and the freemen who opted for this life. There is enough to eat and I am not going to freeze to death in winter. All things considered, it is a better life than what I would receive if my parents had not sold me off. But I am putting it all on the line tonight. Why? Because of Princess Anri. Unlike anyone else, she saw me. She knew that I existed. She even talked to me. A Princess, talking to me. Sharing with me a deepest secrets. Telling me why the King was so scared of her. Showing me her secret shame. Her body. Anri''s body was marked. She was an abomination, bearing the traits of both the people''s from the lost continents of the East and West. It was the reason why the King hid her away from everyone, forcing her to wear that robe and hood whenever she was allowed to leave her chambers. The King was terrified of Anri and the misfortune that she would bring on his house. For everyone knew the edicts of the True Emperor. Abominations like Anri were to be slain, no questions asked. The three continents were to be kept separate. Now and forever. Was that why Anri decided to befriend me? A life spent as a prisoner, kept away from everyone. Was I the only reasonable chance she had to acquire a friend? Anri took notice of me only because of her own unfortunate circumstances, not because of any merit on my part. A Princess would never bother associating with a servant otherwise. But I don''t care. She saw me when no one else would. Anri is the only person I can call my friend. Just as I am the only friend she has as well. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I unbolt the door of a supposedly empty stable and slink inside soundlessly. The King to his credit, made an effort to discharge his duties to Anri as her father in spite of his mortal fear of what she represented. The hood and robes were an attempt at keeping Anri''s existence as secret as possible. All for naught, as the Blackguards eventually found out about her and came here to force the issue. Keeping Anri in an unused stable was the last favor her father could do for her. It allowed Anri a greater degree of comfort and privacy before her execution in comparison to the dungeon. "Who''s there?" a girl''s timid voice asks somewhere in the darkness before me. I reach outwards with my hands, creeping slowly into the stables. Soon enough, my fingers brush against the luxurious silk of Anri''s robes. There''s a rustling noise and the clink of shackles as Anri''s body shifts and she makes a squeak in surprise. Smooth, slender fingers grab at my hands and squeeze tightly. Anri''s just a weak girl at the end of the day isn''t she? I must protect her smile. "Ah, it''s you." a soft happy sigh, "I''m glad. So glad the last person to visit me would be you." No, I will protect that smile. I retrieve a bunch of keys from my pockets and begin working on freeing Anri from captivity. "I stole the keys from the guards." I whisper, "And jammed the gate opened as well. We''re getting out of here." "Mn." Anri sniffles, "No, I''m not worth it. I''ll just drag you down with me." My heart breaks at this declaration. Does Anri think I am weak? No, a true servant is never weak. He has to be strong, to bear his master''s burdens. I feel the shackles fall away from Anri''s wrists and ankles. As gently as I can, I begin helping her back up to her feet, steadying Anri as she sways unevenly. "Too late." I say while squeezing her hand, "I''m helping you escape and that''s all there is to it. Now let''s go." I begin pulling Anri out of the empty stable and escort her towards the side of the castle where the poorer quality horses are kept. As a princess, Anri had been taught how to ride, but from what I have seen, she is nowhere near skilled enough to control the bad tempered destriers used by the knights. The castle did keep small ponies and hobby horses though, mainly for training and leisure. Getting there unnoticed is not an issue. I have worked in the castle long enough to memorize the patrol routines. Soon enough, we reach the enclosure where these more humble animals are kept and I begin affixing a saddle onto a pony while Anri fidgets in a corner, tugging at the hem of her robe and restlessly playing with the fabric of the hood obscuring her face. I lead the pony out of the enclosure and at my gesture, Anri mounts it. The pony begins a relaxed canter towards the front gate, with me leading it by the reigns. Now that the gate cannot be closed, there are a group of guards milling around the machinery trying to pull the iron nail out without much success. More dangerous are the pair of guards who have stationed themselves by the open gate, preventing anyone from entering or leaving without getting past them. Nothing outside of what I anticipated though. I take a deep breath and turn to Anri, resolving myself to see this through to the end. "I''m going to cause a distraction." I instruct, "Then you will gallop out of here. Don''t look back, understand?" "No!" Anri objects, "I''m not leaving you behind." I give her a stoic look, hoping to put Anri at ease, "Don''t worry about me. We need to act now, before the guards notice you." "No!" Anri refutes again, this time after some thought, "There is another way. We can escape together." "How?" I ask honestly curious. Is Anri indulging in a vain hope? "I overheard papa talking to one of the scholars." Anri whispers, "The curse on my body, its caused by my blood. Its why the Blackguards hate me so much." Anri removes her hood, revealing her face and the pair of majestically curved horns growing out of her head. I had seen the frescoes representing the denizens of the East, monstrous men and women who bear the features of animals. I should be repulsed by the sight before me, the sheer wrongness of Anri''s body. But no, if anything, her horns make Anri''s delicate features look even more beautiful, almost imperial in aura and stature. Her long glossy auburn hair forms ringlets that fall around her shoulders, giving Anri a look of sophistication and glamour. The world has its True Emperor, but there is only one Empress that I will ever recognize. Anri speaks as she shuts her eyes, her brow furrowed in concentration, "My cursed blood, I hate it. I hate it because its what made father want to kill me. But when I focus, the blood reaches out, sharing my feelings, my heart with the people around me." A bitter laugh from my friend, "Its strange isn''t it? My blood is the reason for all the misfortune I experienced. Its also the reason why I am still alive today." A sudden fear grips my heart. Could it be that Anri had been manipulating me using the curse''s power from the start? Is that why I am so faithful, even to the extent of willing to lay down my life for her? Anri grabs my hand and puts the horse into a relaxed canter, leading me towards the guards gathered at the gate. I then realize that I am thinking too much. I am a servant, and a servant is only meant to obey. First, the guards turn to look at us. Then they drop to their knees in submission. After that, Anri and I pass through the gate, walking step by step towards freedom. Her grip on me never weakening for even a second. Step by step we walk. Towards eternity. Rooftop Ruminations My head swims as I struggle back to my feet, gingerly covering my completely blinded eye. I shift my feet, getting some balance back after the sudden loss of my depth perception and stumble into a narrow alley, away from the curious crowd of onlookers that had started to gather around me. Shit, The Voice had said that my eye was fixed and it was working perfectly fine earlier, so what gives? Leaning against a red brick wall, I feel the affected eye with my finger, gently prodding it. No bleeding, no gory wounds reopening. For all intents and purposes, the eye is fine. I just can''t see out of it. More worryingly though, is a low humming noise in my head, similar to what I feel when Gallant contests my control over his body. This time however, the sensation is coupled with a compulsion to do something, to take action urgently. But to what end, I have no idea. My heart sinks as I recall the psychic attack Celeste''s freak show subjected me to. The feeling was the same, a compulsion combined with the overwhelming urge to obey. Except this time, the commands don''t seem to be coming from a nearby source. Instead its like an invisible wave is passing over me like a tide going in and out, drenching me with psychic energy both ways. The magnitude of the attack is several times greater than what Celeste could muster in our last encounter. This is bad, and that''s putting it lightly. I never had expected Celeste to grow in power so quickly. If I can feel the effects of the psychic attack now, does that mean my new armor is already ineffective? Time for an experiment. Heading deeper into the darkness of the alley, I mentally command the artificial core to activate with my fingers tightly crossed. To my surprise, the core comes online without issue and the quiet nagging in the back of my head is cut off immediately. So the armor still works then. Good, that''s one problem I don''t have to worry about. Unfortunately, my eye remains blind and I am no closer to figuring out the cause. Can''t do anything on street level now, Celeste''s tripwires have hemmed me into a single neighborhood. Since the core still works, might as well get to a vantage point so that I can work out some strategy. Standing squarely in front of the red brick wall, I tense and pump my legs upwards, grabbing at a window ledge and proceeding to parkour my way towards the building''s roof. I feared that the core would abruptly shut down halfway through a jump, but it was all for nothing. My enhanced strength and reflexes carry the day easily and I vault over the building''s edge with a flourish, landing securely on both feet. Core''s functioning fine. I shouldn''t have any problems if it comes to a fight. I shut off the powers and immediately the strange compulsion returns as if it had never stopped. Clicking my tongue in irritation, I pace about on the roof restlessly, attempting to work out this mystery before me. Its not as if I could just ask The Voice what is going on. As long as I remain topside, we would be cut off from each other. At least until Alley brings the Pit back online. The upside is that if this attack is similar to what I experienced at the Kingdom of Love, no matter how strong it is, I should be effectively immune. My soul simply cannot understand the directives it is being bombarded with. The whole affair would be an object lesson in irritation, but I should really be in no danger. At least that''s what I hope. But how is all this connected to my blinded eye? My eye getting knocked out at the same time is surely no coincidence. Looking up, I see the metaphysical red thread sprawl across the sky, glowing with quiet menace. The glow drenches the entire City, leaving no place on the surface untouched. Turning to the door of the roof access staircase, I take a moment to break the lock with my powers and take cover in the stairwell before turning off the core again. No dice, I still get that unpleasant sensation in my head. The glow from the red thread must act like radiation, being inside a building would not protect you from it. Well, that''s not quite true. The sarcophagus is safe enough from Celeste''s influence, but it is also buried underground and shielded with a layer of nuke proof armor. The ultimate final refuge. The sarcophagus certainly lives up to its name, but that does me no good now. If The Voice is right, waiting things out underground would be playing straight into Fate''s hands. I need to get to the bottom of what exactly is going on up here. Heading back out onto the roof, I muse that its probably a good thing I am the only one who can see the red thread. Otherwise, there would probably be a citywide panic about alien invasion or something like that. Thanks to red getting everywhere, the whole place looks like a set for a Z rate made for TV flick. Showdown At New Mars. Starring Tensei "the Stud" von Amsterg. Screening on demand at Channel 421. Putting those stray thoughts aside, I being surveying the area now that I have a bird''s eye view of the streets. And what I see causes the black spot of irritation residing in the back of my head to grow even further. Parkouring across the rooftops would get me past the tripwires that have hemmed me in, but Celeste had also set up tripwires not just in this neighborhood, but from what I can see, throughout the entire District. Every single major intersection has been wrapped up in screens made out of red thread. I can see the junction that connects the District to the highway has a cat''s cradle worth of the stuff tied all over it. I also see a nearby mag rail station festooned with Fate''s party surprise. All this confirms one thing, avoiding the red thread by itself is not difficult. It just requires me to do two things. Don''t use a car. Don''t take mass transit. Shit. Celeste has been really smart about using her power, limiting my movement so heavily. The other way is to just brave the red threads, driving into them and hoping for the best. Though somehow I think that''s not a particularly smart thing to be doing. Anyway, I am really getting ahead of myself here. I still haven''t figured out where I am supposed to be going. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. This is the first time I have been thrown into a mission with no leads or concrete objective, just a nebulous ''stop whatever Celeste is planning''. But where is Celeste? How can I find her? Things are so much more difficult without The Voice doing the background work. Still, I can think of a few areas to investigate based on what I know. First, is of course Celeste''s base, the Kingdom of Love. Its the most obvious choice, its her place of residence for one. Its also the choice least likely to yield any dividends, having already been raided. So scratch that one of the list. I should still go take a look of time permits, but the Kingdom would be low on the list of priorities. What else is there? Thinking back, Celeste does have a modus operandi of sorts. Weak in direct combat, she works through proxies. Meaning that there would always be someone who would be in contact with her, out of necessity for her plans more than anything else. Celeste has been hanging around the Hero and the Heroines in order to manipulate them against The Voice. I doubt she is in contact with the Hero after I retrieved him, but she might still be lurking around his other friends. Plenty of ifs and assumptions, but better than flying blind in this investigation. Sighing in consternation, I take a seat on the edge of the roof, letting my legs dangle freely. Both avenues of investigation I had come up with are pretty weak. Once again, I miss The Voice''s presence in the background. It may be an arrogant, high handed dick, but it certainly knew what it was doing. As I keep considering the matter at hand, I realize that there is a more direct way of getting results, but at a much higher risk to myself. St Clair and Nicholas. Fate''s plan would now revolve around those two beating the Hero and Brocon in the duel. Dealing with St Clair and Nicholas would handle Fate nicely, no matter what Celeste has been planning in the background. There''s also the advantage that St Clair''s location is not exactly a secret. Its the giant yacht anchored just off The City. I had even seen it a few times when I was bumming around the coastal highway. There is one big disadvantage with this approach though. St Clair''s powerful. The Voice had warned me that the Loli was one of the strongest mages alive with all the advantages of a vampire to boot. Fighting St Clair on her home ground would get super ugly at light speed. Placing both palms on my head and lacing the fingers together into a makeshift pillow, I lie down on the roof, my eyes constantly tracing the red threads drawn across the sky. Tracking Celeste using the red thread would be possible, at least in theory. The problem is that the tapestry she had woven was simply to vast for me to map to its originating point. I needed to narrow down her location first before performing the trace. Sucking my breath in and folding my legs more comfortably, I grumble inwards at the scope of the challenge. Groping about in the dark sure is fun. And there was a final option available. One not really related to my quest, but something I would do well to keep in mind regardless. The Voice had been my primary source of information about this world. Now that The Voice is blinded to what is going on in The City, I could start getting the low down. The real, actual, unedited low down on what is going on. The Voice has been careful enough to spoon feed me with curated factoids, but I have long been aware that the account provided to me has not been the entire truth of the matter. Now would be the best time to set this state of affairs right. Unfortunately, looking into The Voice meant investigating the secret truth of this world. Its not something I can do by just walking into a library. I could read the VN and watch the anime that''s been floating around, but that stuff''s been tainted by Fate''s influence. It would be equally unhelpful and biased as listening solely to The Voice''s version of events. I needed an unbiased source to consult with. And I have one just in mind. Hobo Beard. Enemy to both The Voice and Fate. The man himself being dead presents a problem though. If I can''t consult with the man, I will have to do the next best thing, check out his body of work. Again, I have a number of choices here. The obvious choice would be to check out Ascension Tower, the last place Hobo Beard was active at. Too bad that place has been burned to a husk thanks to Tensei''s rampage. That leaves option number two. The lab Siobahn had set up for Hobo Beard, the place where Chance and I fought our first duel. Another wreck, but Chance only torched the front area of the lab before The Voice dropped the roof down on her. There might be something left. Maybe. Possibly. I had already taken the warning of my dream to heart, so the least I can do is perform some due diligence on The Voice. But time keeps pressing forward. My sidetrack would eat up valuable time that I would otherwise be using to foil Celeste. I have a sinking feeling in my gut that this course of action would cost me somehow, but it is a price that must be paid. As I keep tossing about ideas in my head, a helicopter buzzes overhead and hovers in place directly over me, the insignia of ORPO painted on its side.The roar of jets interrupt my thoughts as several ORPO mecha rocket upwards from the base of the building and land heavily on the roof, surrounding me. The mecha close ranks, forming a wall of steel and level their axes at me, ready for action. "Bit much for someone taking a nap isn''t it?" I ask with an eyebrow raised. The axes remain pointed at me, but the mecha don''t move to attack. A tense silence develops, broken only by the whir of the mechas'' servos and the thumping of the helicopter''s blades. "Daffyd Gallant." an amplified voice booms from the helicopter, "You are under arrest under suspicion of committing terroristic acts and murder. Surrender." "Hey screw you Commander." I snap giving the helicopter the finger, "I thought we were friends and everything." No response from Hernandez of course, there''s no way he could hear my protests all the way up there in the sky. Should I fight? ORPO flatfoots can''t actually hurt me. No, scratch that, they could dog pile me with troopers and mecha until my body explodes from the stress. If Hernandez is willing to drown me in the blood of his men, that''s not something I can overcome even with the artificial core. Odds are, ORPO being staffed by mundanes has fallen under Celeste''s influence. Confirming my suspicions is the sight of another flock of mecha rocketing towards the roof where I am. I am putting money down that fighting now results in a bad end. But is surrender any better? Not really I suppose, but it would buy me some time at least. And if it comes down to it, I can always attempt to battle my way out. The odds might be equally bad, but an opening to turn things around might reveal itself in the meantime. No good choices, so I''ll have to go with the least crappy one. I get up to my feet and dust my clothes off before turning to the ORPO mecha surrounding me, their pilots wound up as tight as springs. I raise my hands with what I hope is a comforting smile. "Take me to your leader." Unprofessional Liaison "Alright, that''s a wrap." the ORPO officer in front of us claps his hands for emphasis, "Back to the detention block." Its after the suspect parade and I am being led with the other so-called suspects out of the viewing room. We are quickly split up between the waiting group of officers and a pair of them lead me back to the lockup. We pass through the featureless corridors of the ORPO HQ and finally reach a room filled with rows of cells. I am guided to one and the officers unlock the door before ushering me in. "Long sleeves are not allowed in the lockup. Take off the trench coat." one of the officers tells me, "We will hold on to it until you are released from remand." "Make me." I grunt and the officer immediately backs off. When I had been carried here by the ORPO mecha, flying all the way no less, I had agreed to disarm as a show of cooperation. The gun and baton are now residing in plastic evidence bags kept at the detention block''s security office. A show of good faith that would not cost me much. As long as I have access to the core, my body is my greatest weapon, as those fitness freaks would go on yelling about on video back home. That was the reason why I refused to take off the trench coat. The Voice''s armor had been made to resemble regular clothing and it had multiple fail safes, but the strength of the protection offered against Celeste depended on the amount of clothing I had on. I was confident that I did not actually need the trench coat to activate the core, but as the largest article of the set, I was loathe to part with it. Good thing my reputation precedes me though. The moment I refused to cooperate, the ORPO officers immediately backed off. Sprawling out on to the hard bench located in the corner of the cell, I patiently wait for the clock to run down on my remand. Being brought to Celeste by ORPO was always going to be a really long shot, but I had been hoping to at least meet with Hernandez to get a better idea of what''s going on. Unfortunately, the man had resolutely decided not to show up in front of me for the whole day. My minders were just regular ORPO officers who refused to exchange words with me, merely watching me when I had been taken out of the cell and guiding me to the ID parade. Have to admit it though, The Voice had done a good job upgrading the Hero''s programming. I might not have been able to overhear what was going on in the observation room, but I had been keeping track of who''s doing what using matter sense. By my best guess, ORPO had brought in six witnesses to identify me and four of those had pointed out the wrong person. A kind of mental block installed through The Voice''s transmission before Celeste took over the surface? Probably. Most importantly, if what I heard from the officers is true, the last witness was the Hero himself, and the Hero had pointed out the wrong person. The Voice had delivered on upgrading and toughening up the Hero''s programming at least. At least that part of the plan is working out fine. I begin tapping my foot against the wall to stave off boredom. The Hero should be able to just cruise to victory if he has been restored to full strength, so even if Celeste is planning something, the odds would certainly still be against her. "Up." a hoarse voice rouses me from my musings and I see Hernandez puffing away on his obnoxious cigar just outside my cell while flanked by several officers. "About time Commander." I grumble as an officer unlocks the door and gestures at me to follow them. Hernandez does not respond to my quip and leads me deeper into the detention block where we wind up in front of a nondescript wooden door. The officer unlocks this door and the entire group enters. Inside is a bare room with a table and a pair of chairs on opposite sides. There is a camera mounted against the corner of one of the walls and an odd metal box is hooked up to a power socket next to the table. No windows and the ensemble is presided over by harsh fluorescent lighting that makes my head hurt. Is this an interrogation room? As I consider what is about to happen next, Hernandez points at one of the chairs and begins stubbing out his cigar in an ashtray on the table. Taking the cue, I get myself comfortable as Hernandez flicks a switch on the metal box. There''s an electric buzz and the machine begins to release distorted waves of spiritual energy, causing an unpleasant static feeling to blister across my skin. Hernandez then accepts a file from one of the officers and casually tosses it on to the table. "Out." Hernandez instructs his officers and they leave the room. The Commander then goes to the camera and twists it upwards, preventing the camera from recording whatever is going on. Confidential discussion then, huh? Yeah, I can get behind that. No wonder Hernandez has been acting like a stranger in front of me, he wanted to have a private discussion. Hernandez leafs through the file and brings out a single sheet of paper, sliding it towards me with a pen. "Sign." the Commander instructs and I pick the paper up to read through it. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "What the hell?" I snap, "This is a bloody confession. Are you out of your mind?" "You''ve gone too far." Hernandez scowls, "The so-called Prince of Europe identified you at the manor. He wants your head. And you don''t say no to a Prince. Sign it and make it easy for everyone." "Will you relax?" I roll my eyes, "This is The City, not Berlin. Tell Gustav to go pound sand. Its not as if he can do squat here." "So you admit to killing his staff then?" Hernandez quirks an eyebrow while playing with his mustache. "What staff?" I snort, "No idea what you''re talking about. Now let me go, you do realize we are in this together, right?" Hernandez''s expression flickers for a moment before regaining its steely look, "Not anymore. I''m under pressure from everyone to close this case. Bringing you in is the neatest and safest way to do that. Your mysterious contacts have not said a word either. I think its pretty clear you''ve been cut off, left high and dry." I frown, cracking my knuckles, "Easy? You sure about that Commander?" "Yeah. Pretty sure." Hernandez jabs his thumb at the box beside us, "See that? Its a disruption field generator. Use your magic and you will be throwing up all over the floor." The Commander then draws the baton from his belt, rapping the table once with it. "After that, you''ll be throwing up your teeth." Hernandez says in a calm, measured tone, "Like I said. Easy. For me at least." Damn it. Bastard wants to sell me out. I activate core, bracing myself for any nausea. And feel nothing. The static buzzing around me grows in intensity, but I don''t feel ill or anything. Great, Hernandez''s device can''t overcome The Voice''s protection. I fire off a mind blast at the Commander to settle this confrontation. You have not enough proof. Let him go. My head is sent reeling back from the savage push back coming from Hernandez''s mind. The Commander did not resist the mind blast, his brain outright rejected listening to me. Its exactly the same as what happened with the retard guard back at the Kingdom of Love. As I blink away the tears, Hernandez crows smugly, believing that I am feeling the effects of his wonder weapon. "Had a taste? There''s more where that came from if you keep being difficult." I tune Hernandez out and take a quick breath to steady myself. Hernandez has been brainwashed by Celeste, that''s pretty clear by now. If I am going to bring him back to my side, I need to break whatever hold she has over him. I recall The Voice giving Alley implants to block Celeste''s influence. If I can block off Hernandez from the red thread in the same manner, the law of equivalent exchange should kick in again, swinging Hernandez back to my side. No idea if it will work, but its worth a try. "Stop stalling!" the Commander shouts, banging the table with his baton. I nod quietly to myself before getting up to my feet and begin to take off my trousers. Hernandez stares in stunned silence as I shuck off the pair of black trousers The Voice had prepared for me and drape them neatly across the chair. Going to neat them ready later. "What in the world are you doing?" Hernandez demands raising the baton menacingly. Before he can react, I slap the baton out of his hand, sending it clattering to the ground. "Sto-" Hernandez shouts but I belt him across the face with my open palm, whirling the man about. As the Commander staggers about stunned with his back to me, I grab him by the waist and begin unbuckling his belt. Hernandez realizes what I am doing and begins to resist, thrashing about like a fish out of water, preventing me from getting a firm grip. "No! Let go!" Hernandez blares as he elbows me in the face. Losing patience with him, I decide to just remove the Commander''s trousers with brute force. One hard rip sends the trousers splitting open like a ripe banana, sending the tattered remnants of Hernandez''s underpants spiraling to the floor. Huh, teddy bear underwear. Never knew Hernandez was into that kind of thing. "HELP!" Hernandez screams at the top of his voice and I slap his bare ass with authority, cutting him off. I then reach out and grab the Commander by his hair, slamming his face into the table and bending him over. Hernandez refuses to give up though and he keeps struggling, forcing me to press down on him, subduing the man with my weight. Then there''s a click as the door opens. Both Hernandez and I turn and see an ORPO officer staring at the two of us, completely expressionless. There''s a pregnant pause as no one knows exactly how to react. "Do you mind?" I ask. The ORPO officer politely turns away and closes the door behind him. "No! Come back!" Hernandez howls in dismay, hanging on the table for dear life as I lift his legs with one hand and begin jamming them down The Voice''s set of trousers with the other. The Commander frantically kicks at me, but I straighten his legs with a solid pull, tipping the table over with a crash and sending Hernandez face planting to the floor. Seizing the opportunity, I pounce on Hernandez''s back and complete forcing him into my trousers. His entire body bucks and shakes as he attempts to throw me off to no avail. I slap him on the ass again to get him to quieten down and the moment the trousers completely cover Hernandez''s legs, his struggles immediately stop. Did it work? I cautiously get back to my feet, watching the Commander carefully. Hernandez rolls over, a look of exhaustion on his face. He gives me an aggrieved look before gazing at the bare ceiling. "There''s a whispering in my head." Hernandez murmurs, reaching for the cigars in his coat, "Never heard it before. I need a smoke." Hernandez lights up and I breathe a sigh of relief. As long as the Commander has my pair of trousers on, he should be back on track as my ally. Hernandez remains silent as he shuts his eyes, lazily puffing away at the cigar, savoring the tobacco. And the wall of the room explodes, revealing several ORPO mecha barging in through the dust. "Get out of here." Hernandez irritably waves at his men and the mecha stop right in their tracks, looking at Hernandez lying spreadeagled on the floor. The mecha then turn around and begin marching away without another word. "My office, smart ass." Hernandez says as he climbs back up to his feet, both hands fastening my trousers to his waist. "You and I, we need to have a little heart to heart." Pushing The Buttons I follow Hernandez to his office, avoiding the odd stares coming from all around me about my current trouserless state. Hernandez keeps his eyes fixed forward, resolutely chomping on his cigar, refusing to entertain the questioning looks the ORPO officers are giving him. The moment both of us enter Hernandez''s office, he quickly locks the door behind me with a sigh of relief. Taking a seat in front of the large teak desk that dominates the small room, I notice that the office is made even smaller by all the files piled carelessly about. Files on the desk. Files on the shelves. And the unending sea of paper spreads greedily outwards, devouring the floor and forming small mountains that reach up to Hernandez''s knees. The Commander navigates the sea of clutter like an experienced skipper, skillfully gliding past the mounds of documentation without disturbing a single sheaf of paper. Hernandez takes a moment to reassemble a pile of files that I had accidentally nudged to the side before settling into the large leather chair facing me. An awkward silence develops between us. "Teddy bear underpants." I blurt out to get the ball rolling on our private discussion. Hernandez folds his arms across his chest and addresses me, "Gift from my daughter. She likes cute stuff. There a problem with that?" "No! No!" I quickly deny, "I was just, uh, surprised by the whole teddy bear thing." "And I was surprised by a maniac tearing off my pants." Hernandez scowls, "Plus the whispering in my head. Explain. Now." "My trousers are magic." I tell Hernandez, "Its what allows you to resist the whispering." "Magic trousers." Hernandez repeats what I said in a completely flat voice. I roll my eyes in response, "There''s magic swords, magic wands, even magic guns these days. Stop being bigoted against trousers Commander." Hernandez gives a tired grunt and shrugs, "OK. Fine. I get that whenever you show up there''s bound to be weirdness. And violence. Can''t forget that. So how do your magic trousers tie into everything?" I snap my fingers and point my finger squarely at the Commander, "Remember that time you were asking me about the fight between an ORPO squad and myself?" "How could I forget." Hernandez snorts, "The battle over the skies of a sex club. Or was it a sex cult? I never really worked out what you were talking about." "Did you ever manage to get that ORPO squad to come back to HQ?" I ask. "Now that you mention it, no." Hernandez reluctantly admits, "Those guys ignored orders, never came back. The men I sent after them disappeared as well. The whole matter was put on the back burner thanks to your antics at the von Amsterg manor." "What antics?" I raise an eyebrow, "I read in the papers it was a Legion strike on the manor." "Fine. Keep playing dumb." Hernandez massages his stiff shoulders, "Stick to the issue at hand. Don''t for one moment think I''ll let the manor fiasco go though." "Brainwash waves." I say, looking Hernandez straight in the eye, "That''s why the ORPO squad is not obeying your orders. Their minds have been completely roasted inside out." Hernandez just stares at me in silence. He then takes out a lunch box from a drawer and opens it, revealing a hot pocket wrapped in tinfoil. Removing the hot pocket, Hernandez folds the tinfoil into a tiny little hat which he then places on my head like a crown. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. "That shit is oily." I complain while taking off the tin foil hat and tossing it into the bin, "And stop playing with your food." Hernandez munches on the hot pocket and speaks between bites, "Feel better about the brainwash waves now? Want to talk about the fluoride in the water turning people into homos?" "I''m serious." I glare at Hernandez, "That whispering in your head? I hear it too. I can resist it thanks to my trench coat. Not everyone is quite so lucky." Hernandez finishes his hot pocket and leans back in the chair, considering my words, "Yeah. I feel it too. I can''t make out what the whispering is actually about, but it clearly wants me to do something. Why is it I only started hearing the whispering when I put on your pants?" "You always could hear it." I explain, "The difference now is that your mind is actually conscious about the brainwash waves, allowing you to resist." "And you are saying that these ''brainwash waves''," Hernandez throws out an air quote, "all started at that apartment block where the so-called sex club is?" "You don''t believe me, don''t you?" I question Hernandez unhappily. "I believe you as much as I believe the story about the Host lacing The City''s drinking water with hormones to turn all human men impotent." Hernandez smirks. "Cute." I challenge the Commander back, "Then return those trousers to me. If what I am saying is total crap, you don''t need to be wearing my trousers." Hernandez falls silent at my rejoinder and silently contemplates my words. His hands however, show no sign of removing the pair of trousers I had originally forced on him. ''So you believe me." I conclude smugly. "No, I don''t." Hernandez doggedly shoots back, "I need these trousers because I don''t have a spare set available." "Fine." I sigh, "I''ll give you concrete proof about the brainwash waves. Call an officer in here." "Any officer?" Hernandez asks as he reaches for the cradle of the phone in his desk. "Yeah, sure." I agree, "Any rando would do." Hernandez then calls an officer manning the reception desk to make himself present before us. A short while later, the ORPO officer knocks on the door and lets himself in, all the while giving me a suspicious look. The Commander makes a movement with his hand, indicating that I should be starting my demonstration. From my experience at the Kingdom of Love, brainwashed retards generally have their thought processes locked on certain very particular concepts. Its probably how Celeste ensures her grip over those unfortunates'' minds within the limits of her power. The scale of the brainwashing may be greater now, but the process should still be the same. My plan to win Hernandez over would be to provoke this rando into babbling mindlessly in the same fashion the retard guard did. Such a demonstration would prove without doubt that brainwashing has been going on. "What is the greatest principle?" I question the ORPO officer. That should get randoman here to start spewing garbage about love this, love that. Randoman closes his eyes for a moment and recites, "Loyalty to The City. Protecting the people. Devotion to ORPO." My face goes completely pale at this response. Shit, this is bad. Celeste must have changed the programming up to prevent me from tripping up her retards so easily. I''m not giving up though. When there is no way out, the only thing left to do is to double down and keep digging. "What do you think about love?" I press randoman, hoping to get the reaction I want. Randoman considers for a moment and answers, "I would like to meet someone that I could truly love and marry." Damn it. I throw out my final gambit hoping that something might stick, "Sex! Sex is important right?" "That''s enough smart ass." Hernandez interrupts before addressing randoman, "Alright, you''re done here. Get back to work." I burst out of my seat as a sudden inspiration strikes, "Who are you loyal to, ORPO or the goddess?" The moment randoman hears this question, he stops dead in his tracks with a dangerous gleam in his eye. Randoman doesn''t actually answer me, but the change in atmosphere is palpable. Even Hernandez can sense that something is wrong. I have found a crack and need to apply more pressure. Celeste might have disguised the brainwashing better this time, but once I know the right buttons to push, the facade will break apart. "I am the Tyrant''s blackguard!" I shout straight at randoman''s face. Randoman screams like an enraged animal and springs towards me with his bare hands. I swiftly punch the officer straight in the gut, sending him crashing into the door of Hernandez''s office, breaking its hinges and sending randoman flying out into the cubicle farm. "Believe me now?" I ask Hernandez as randoman''s colleagues gather around the fallen figure. Hernandez just nods in silence. "Great. Now let''s talk business." Road Trip Without any further ado, Hernandez signals me to follow him and we walk through the winding corridors that make up the bowels of ORPO HQ. I am about to protest not getting back my confiscated gear but Hernandez quickly silences me with a stern expression on his face. Trusting the Commander to at least know what he is doing, I hold my peace and keep pace beside him as we drift deeper and deeper into the building. Hernandez leads me back to the detention block but instead of taking me to the cells, he opens a locked door that leads downstairs. The stairs terminate at basement where the air is musty and smells faintly with the odor of stale sweat. "Smart ass, wait here for a bit." Hernandez abruptly presses his hand against my chest just before we step out into the basement. Shrugging, I nod in silence and Hernandez slips out into the corridor, and raps his knuckles briefly on a closed door just ahead of us. I hear someone unlocking the door and I duck back into the stairwell just as Hernandez enters the room. Shortly after, Hernandez reemerges from the room he was in and urgently signals me to hurry up. "What was that about?" I whisper to Hernandez as we stride onward through the basement. "Can''t risk taking you out of here in my personal car." the Commander explains, "You''re still an official suspect. I registered your name as a detainee being transferred to the lockup at another station and got the keys for a patrol cruiser." As I am digesting Hernandez''s explanation, both of us emerge into an underground car pool where ORPO patrol cars are neatly parked in a row next to each other. As the two of us are making our way to the cop cars, several black lorries trundle into the parking lot and come to a stop before a large cargo elevator. Hernandez quickly pulls me behind a pillar and puts an index finger to his lips, the meaning clear. The black lorries keep their engines idling and a few minutes later, the doors of the cargo elevator grind open on their overused gears. A bedraggled line of human men and women in orange jumpsuits and with their heads shaved are marched out of the elevator by ORPO officers. The line of prisoners trudge unenthusiastically forward, weighed down by heavy shackles that chain the inmates to one another. The ORPO officers impatiently direct the prisoners to board the lorries, occasionally pushing the line forward to get the inmates to get a move on. "Black Marias?" I ask Hernandez, pointing at the lorries. Hernandez nods, "Prisoners being moved to the island camps. Stay out of sight smart ass. Those guards know the prisoner transfer schedules. They''ll be on to us lies flies on shit." Both of us get down on all fours and crawl behind a vacant cop car, waiting for the lorries to leave with their cargo. After some grumbling and cursing, the ORPO officers finish with cramming all the prisoners into the lorries, stacking the bodies inside like sardines. Too many passengers, not enough space. Can''t be very comfortable for those inmates. An officer bangs the back of one of the lorries, signaling the drivers that everyone has been loaded. With a roar of overtaxed engines, the lorries leave ORPO HQ in a cloud of exhaust and dust. "Coast''s clear." Hernandez whispers as he peeks over the car we are hiding behind. The Commander then checks the set of keys in his hand remotely unlocking the cop car at the opposite end of the parking garage. Wasting no further time, both of us dash to the waiting getaway vehicle. I slide into the passenger''s seat as Hernandez starts up the car and in no time at all, we peel out off ORPO HQ towards freedom. .... Hernandez drives as fast as he can while keeping within the speed limit, most likely to avoid any unwanted attention. He is clearly familiar with the roads of The City, expertly guiding the cop car down the messy web of side streets until we emerge at the junction leading to the inter-district highway. I suck my breath in as Hernandez drives towards the riot of red thread ahead of us and the Commander notices my loss of composure. "What''s your deal?" Hernandez questions in his hoarse voice, sweat running down his brow from the tension. "Nothing. Keep driving." I reassure, but I can''t help but grip the hand rest tightly. The cop car drives straight into the red threads and the moment we are within the thicket of metaphysical crimson, the whole ensemble goes completely crazy, seething and flailing about in protest. I brace for the onslaught, but to my relief, nothing actually happens in meat space. Hernandez on his part keeps driving, completely unaware of what had just happened. The cop car hits the highway and Hernandez accelerates smoothly, causing the scenery outside to blur past us. I keep looking into the car''s side mirror, half expecting a conga line of brainwashed retards to show up pursuing us, but nothing of that sort happens. No pursuers, nothing weird happening. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Relax." Hernandez says, "I signed the transfer papers myself just before we left. Even if someone spotted us on the highway, ORPO wouldn''t send a squad to intercept a completely ordinary prisoner transfer in progress." "How long do we have?" I ask. "A few hours probably." Hernandez replies, "These transfers can take quite some time to complete." I raise an eyebrow at that outlandish statement, "The City is big, but not that big. How can transit time between stations be so long?" "Oh right." Hernandez exclaims, "You don''t know about the Tour." "The, uh, Tour?" I repeat the unfamiliar term back at the Commander. Hernandez smirks, "A trick we use to get suspects feeling in a more cooperative mood. ORPO is legally allowed to remand someone for up to twenty four hours only. Can''t extract a confession from a hardened criminal in that time. Thing is, transit times are not counted as part of remand." "I don''t get it." I scratch my head, trying to grasp what Hernandez is hinting at. "Suspects are put in a car and transferred to another station." Hernandez continues, "I can''t help it if traffic conditions force me to keep driving in circles for several hours until the suspect starts pissing and shitting himself. And once we get to that other station, I can''t help it either if that station doesn''t have room in its lockup for a new inmate. So its back to HQ, and that will take another couple of hours on the road. And so on and on and on." "I find it hard to believe being chauffeured around would make anyone confess to anything, other than out of boredom." I point out. Hernandez snorts, "That''s because you haven''t experienced shitting and pissing yourself before. Let me tell you, it isn''t pleasant. Also, all those hours on the road add up. That twenty four hour remand can easily be extended to days if I want to keep this up with a suspect. Days where a suspect is absent from work. The threat of losing your job usually makes them smarten up fast." "So the station thinks I am being subject to your world tour treatment?" I ask. "The Tour not world tour." Hernandez corrects, "And yeah, the other guys at HQ probably think I sent you for softening up right now. Getting you out this way was the best means of avoiding any suspicion falling on me." "You are letting me go right?" I question, "How are you going to explain me going missing on your watch?" "That''s the smart part of the plan." Hernandez smiles as he taps his head with a finger, "I won''t have to do any of that. I registered another officer''s name in the transit records. That''s why I didn''t want anyone to see us together in the basement. As far as I am concerned, I escorted you to this other guy, he took custody of you and then poof, you disappeared. Man, that sap is going to get a total ass reaming from me later." "That''s a pretty shitty thing to do to one of your own men." I shoot back disapprovingly. "He''ll be fine." Hernandez says, "I''ll shout at him in my office for a bit, that''s all. Anyway, the last I checked, gatecrashing a wedding, beating down several people and beheading someone are all ''shitty things to do'', but it doesn''t seem to stop you from doing them anyway." "Touche." I grunt in acknowledgement but something Hernandez said earlier has been bugging me. I am a legit suspect in this case despite the Hero failing to ID me properly. That means ORPO is holding me due to physical evidence or the other two witnesses that had correctly identified me in the ID parade. The Voice had assured me all the weapons I had used in the wedding attack would be traced to the Legion. Knowing that The Voice has the power to spawn pretty much any object it wants, I have no doubt that the weapons it had prepared for me would be indistinguishable from the stuff from actual Legion arsenals. That''s also not considering The Voice''s ability to clean up the scenes where I had been active at. ORPO would not find anything that The Voice doesn''t want them to find. So that means I am still under suspicion thanks to the witnesses. "You said two witnesses identified me at the station." I query, "Mind telling who has been defaming my reputation?" "Defaming. Yeah, right." Hernandez laughs, "Watch what you say though, one of the witnesses is the Prince of Europe himself." "Gustav?" I muse. The Commander''s revelation is not a surprise though. I had from the start figured that Celeste managed to get to Gustav and put him up to fingering me. "The one and only." Hernandez confirms, "The other witness is someone you know though. Want to take a guess who?" I frown at Hernandez''s teasing. Unfortunately, the only people I know in this world are Hernandez, Alley and The Voice. I suppose you could count the Hero and the Heroines as acquaintances, but I doubt they were the ones that identified me, given The Voice''s tight grip over them. "Drawing a blank here." I say, admitting defeat. "I was taken by surprise as well when our second witness showed up." Hernandez answers, "Still, he was pretty affirmative when it came down to the identification business." "Stop keeping me in suspense." I grumble back at the Commander. "Ken Matsui. Tensei''s best friend. Small world, isn''t it?" Back In The Saddle "No way. Absolutely no way." I protest at Hernandez''s big reveal, "Its impossible for Matsui junior to be the witness identifying me." Hernandez chortles at my response as he overtakes a car on the highway, mildly amused at my reaction, "Why can''t it be possible? Don''t keep me in the dark smart ass, this should be a good one." "Because Ken Matsui is retarded." I state, "He can barely swallow solid food, much less be a police witness." Hernandez blinks at this explanation, "Uh huh. Retarded. Didn''t seem that way when Ken Matsui was at the station. He was very definitive in ID''ing you smart ass." "Look, I''m serious here." I protest, hoping to shake Hernandez''s preconceptions, "Matsui Junior was hospitalized for having a fit at the Academy. His brain suffocated or something like that." "Therefore leaving him retarded?" Hernandez asks in an incredulous tone. "That''s right." I confirm, "Retarded." Hernandez sighs as he plays with his extravagant mustachios, "Are you just saying that Ken is retarded because you are upset at him?" "I saw the ambulance carting Ken''s comatose ass away OK?" I insist to the disbelieving Hernandez, "Plenty of other people did as well. This is not me being difficult. This is about a retard fingering me when he can''t even stop drooling into his slop." "He didn''t look retarded though." the Commander muses for a bit, "But, if you''re telling the truth about the ambulance, I should be able to perform a check. The hospitals would keep a record of the ambulances they send out." "Great. Then that would settle things, right?" I ask, "Tracking the ambulance would lead to the hospital that performed the medical evals on Ken." Hernandez raises an eyebrow as he briefly glances at me, "If, and I must emphasize on the ''if'', Ken Matsui had been evaluated as retarded, then that would put his entire testimony into doubt. Mental incompetence and all that. I would be able to provisionally remove you as a person of interest from the investigation." "Even though Gustav is raising a stink?" I query. The Commander shrugs, "Yep. The so-called Prince would be a lone voice shouting in the darkness. With no one to corroborate Gustav''s accusations, it would be safe for me to ignore him." I sink back into the car''s seat with relief, "Great. That''s great. Best news I have heard all day." "Then brace yourself smart ass." Hernandez growls, "I have a metric fuck ton of questions that I want to ask you. And you better have the answers." I nod, expecting this from the Commander. The man''s entire world has been flipped upside down and he''s no doubt feeling confused and stressed. Giving him some answers would probably net me some goodwill. "The brainwash waves." Hernandez questions, "Tell me everything you know about them. And I mean everything." I rub my chin meditatively, "Tensei has a classmate, a Celeste Alakahonie, AKA Celeste Chanellor, you know anything about her?" "Not a clue." Hernandez grunts, "How''s a teenage girl relevant to anything?" So, Celeste never actually went to personally meet Hernandez, meaning she probably never physically showed up at ORPO HQ. She brainwashed Gustav and sent him on his merry way then. Then what exactly is Celeste doing now? No clues so far, but my money is on nothing good, that''s for sure. "She''s somehow connected to the brainwash waves. The place where your men went missing, that''s her place of residence." I tell Hernandez, "I''m actually trying to track her down." The Commander drums the steering wheel as he considers my words, "You are telling me that a teenage girl is responsible for a conspiracy that spans the entire City. Get real. Do you even have proof?" "Yeah, sure do." I shoot back thinking fast, "Not here though. We''ve got monitoring equipment down in the sarcophagus. That''s how we knew about the brainwash waves." Not the entire truth, but close enough for my purposes. Hernandez grunts again but this time remains silent, slowly turning over what I had just said. I leave him to his thoughts and enjoy the car ride while it lasts. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. "You were hiding underground for the past few days?" Hernandez finally asks. "Entire base of operations is there now." I say, "The armored shell keeps out the brainwash waves. The boss relocated to the sarcophagus as well. That''s why you didn''t hear anything from my contacts." "Look," Hernandez begins in an urgent tone, "you owe me for helping you escape right?" "What are you getting at man?" I ask back while narrowing my eyes. "I am just saying that you owe me." Hernandez presses, "And the Sarcophagus has plenty of space. I and my family move down there and wait this whole disaster out while you do your secret agent thing. Sounds fair to me." I frown at the Commander''s sudden suggestion. Allowing Hernandez to hide out underground would take him off the board, costing me an ally. And that''s not considering whether or not The Voice agrees to this course of action. I need to reassure the man of his safety before his cold feet get the better of him. "You''re the Commander of ORPO." I point out, "Out of all the people living in The City, you have the least reason to be afraid. Also, are you really going to abandon your men to whatever is out there?" "You crazy?" Hernandez huffs, "My men are completely lost to the brainwash waves. I saw one of them go rabid when you provoked him. Going back to HQ would be throwing myself into a live animal enclosure." "You''re being over dramatic." I snort. "No I am not." Hernandez insists, "That ''Tyrant'' talk back at HQ, all of it was referring to whomever you work for, right? The moment my men figure out that I helped you escape, they would tear me apart. There would be no reasoning with them, you saw it for yourself." "You were so confident that we were in the clear just a few minutes ago." I shoot back. "Yeah, but a thought suddenly hit me." the Commander continues, "I might not be able to keep the secret, no matter how much I want to." "Are you threatening me?" I snap angrily, taken by surprise by the turn in the conversation. "Yes and no." Hernandez replies, completely unrepentant, "I don''t want to let the secret out, but I won''t have the choice thanks to the brainwash waves. Its only a matter of time before I spill everything." "What in blazes are you talking about?" I roll my eyes at this complaint, "My trousers are protecting you right? The last I checked, your head is still functioning perfectly normally." "I can''t keep wearing your magic pants forever!" Hernandez cries out before stifling his voice in embarrassment, "What if I need to piss, or take a dump? What if I need to go to the shower? Your pants are not a solution to my problem!" "Invest in adult diapers?" I snigger at the hilarity of Hernandez''s dilemma. Hernandez punches my shoulder with his hand and scowls, "Laugh it up smart ass, but its a real issue. The pants are going to come off at the end of the day, and what are we going to do then?" "Alright." I concede, "I get it. We have a real problem. Your willpower will only hold out until the next time you go to the washroom." Jokes aside, Hernandez has raised a legit point. I need to provide a long term solution to Hernandez''s problem before I can count on him as an ally. The answer of course, would be to give Hernandez the same implants The Voice provided to Alley. Unfortunately, I have no way of coordinating with The Voice right now. I will just have to roll the dice and hope that The Voice gets the hints that I drop. "You need to talk to the boss about this." I tell the Commander, "All this is way above my pay grade." "Your boss, this Tyrant." Hernandez mutters thoughtfully to himself, "OK, I can do that. I can handle a meeting with your mysterious employer. You going to make a call or anything?" "Nah." I shake my head, "If the boss wants to meet you, he will meet you. I''ll tell you where you need to go though." ..... As instructed, Hernandez drives us both back to the Dreaming Spires District where his men apprehended me a few hours ago. Once we enter the district proper, I guide Hernandez towards the Inclinator and tell him to stop the car right in front of the shutters. "Now what?" the Commander asks, fidgeting nervously. "Stay inside." I say and step out of the car. I then wave to the security camera mounted above the shutters, hoping The Voice is feeling in a cooperative mood. There''s a groan of a motor starting up and the shutters begin to rise, revealing a yawning darkness that beckons the cop car to enter. "Great. The boss says yes." I cheer before speaking to Hernandez, "Drive straight in. The Inclinator will take you down to where the boss is waiting." "What, you''re not coming with me?" Hernandez blurts out, "Don''t you need to make introductions and all that kind of thing?" "Relax. The boss knows who you are." I reassure the Commander, "In fact he knows everything there is to know about you." "Threatening my family way back then was your boss''s idea, wasn''t it?" Hernandez unhappily concludes, "The "Tyrant'' name is starting to make sense." "You backing out?" I challenge. Hernandez shakes his head and steels himself, "No. No, I''m in way too deep for that now. Alright, talk to you later smart ass." With that Hernandez without another word drives the cop car into the Inclinator and the shutters slam shut, swallowing the vehicle whole. Great, that''s one, no make that two problems solved. With The Voice busy with entertaining Hernandez, its attention should hopefully be too divided to pay attention to what I am doing topside. I make my way back to the parked SUV and get myself comfortable inside. I fire the SUV''s engine up and the dashboard comes to life. Accessing the on board map function, I begin trying to recall where Hobo Beard''s lab was. The Voice drove me there the last time so I have no idea about the exact location, but with the help of the electronic map, I begin narrowing down an approximate location. Hopefully my memory isn''t too far off, it would be a bitch to get myself lost after everything that has already happened today. Satisfying myself that my preparations are complete, I disengage the SUV''s brakes and enter the flow of traffic, drifting towards an unknown prospect. And an even more uncertain future. Divine Intervention Godfather Matsui angrily slaps the angel lieutenant across the face, the noise of the blow resounding across the empty nightclub. The blonde angel man looks down in silence, the expression on his face contrite. "I know Gallant had removed your balls." Matsui growls, "But I didn''t know you had your brains removed as well." The angel drops to his knees in a deep bow, apologizing profusely, "Godfather! I am willing to atone if I have done something wrong, but all I did was for the sake of the family and the young master." The Godfather snorts unhappily and turns to the window of his office, giving him a bird''s eye view of the nightclub''s dance floor. Directly beneath the office is an empty stage meant for the DJ and live band with the dance floor itself dominating most of the space. However, a small swimming pool has been installed in the middle of the dance floor. The club''s marketing people had claimed that foam parties were the in thing these days and that the swimming pool would help with the ''wet and wild'' theme they were aiming for. Matsui just went along with marketing''s suggestion and had the swimming pool built. As far as he could tell, the pool had become something of a selling point for his club and did bring in customers, no matter how silly the concept sounded in his head. The pool had been used for another purpose the past few days though. The water had turned into a murky red, with thick slurry drifting lazily about on the surface. A powerful vortex of spiritual energy swirls within the water, releasing an almost invigorating sense of energy throughout the vacant premises. Family enforcers surround the pool standing guard and locking down the nightclub, preventing anyone from gaining access from the outside. When Ken''s friend approached Matsui, telling him that there was a way to save now totally insane son, the Godfather had scarcely been able to believe it. Matsui could not decide what exactly was it that allowed him to be persuaded, desperation or that girl''s charisma. Whatever the case, the Godfather went along with what was requested of him, just like he went along with his marketing exec''s plans. Hoping for the best and not really thinking much of the idea. But Ken got better. He started eating, talking, walking about, just like a normal person. As if he had never fallen ill in the first place. Matsui had gotten his son back. He did not understand the process behind his son''s recovery, but the Godfather was now a believer in whatever he had inadvertently signed up for. If Ken staying well requires Matsui to play his part, then the Godfather would be happy to do whatever was required of him. Except now this moron kneeling in front of him threatened to ruin everything. "Explain." Matsui snaps to the angel. "I had a vision that Gallant is heading towards the old lab." the angel explains. Visions. Ever since ''that'' had been brought back by his men to the nightclub, anyone who was stationed at the premises would experience visions, incredibly vivid and accurate ones describing what was going on elsewhere in The City. To Matsui, the visions were more proof that the mysterious power that had healed his son was the real thing. His men were quickly converted into believers as well, the gift of prescience was something they simply could not dismiss. A small corner of the Godfather''s mind nevertheless continued a tiny, futile protest. Who was this girl that claimed to be Ken''s friend? What is this power he had been exposed to? And most importantly, what exactly had he agreed to become a part of? As the uncomfortable sense of doubt begins to build once more, Matsui decisively squashes it without a second thought. This mysterious power had provided a solution when none previously could be found. There is no point in even questioning it, especially when no other alternatives exist. "So did I." Matsui fires back, "The visions had specifically warned us about taking action against Gallant so soon. Neither had I allowed you to send my enforcers to fight him." "Godfather," the angel continues unrepentant, "the visions prove that the health of the young master depends on defeating Gallant. We know where he will be. I merely did the responsible thing."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "Gallant is wasting his time." the Godfather sneers, "We brought back everything of value in the hidden basement of the laboratory. If not for you, Gallant would have been left floundering in the dark." The angel frowns, "I don''t understand?" "No, of course you don''t." Matsui dismisses, "You claim to be so concerned about Ken. Tell me, do you actually know how my son had been cured of his illness?" A puzzled grunt is the only answer the Godfather receives to his rhetorical question. Matsui raises a shot glass that rests on his table to eye level, scrutinizing the dull red liquid within. There is a coppery scent rising from the shot glass, the same smell that permeates the entire pool on the floor below. Taking a deep breath, Matsui chugs down the contents of the shot glass in a single gulp, a look of distaste on his face. Forcing the liquid down his throat, the Godfather''s expression finally relaxes and he turns to address the angel once more. "The water of life." Matsui says in reverence, "A gift from the goddess. It brought my son back to me. Do you know what else the water can accomplish?" The angel merely lowers his head, waiting for his master to finish the explanation. The Godfather smiles, "Drinking it also strengthens the visions. I no longer merely see the present, but glimpses of the future as well. So yes, that is how I knew of the men you had sent to the laboratory." "Godfather ..." the angel mutters, not sure how to react to this declaration. "They fail at their task," Matsui states grimly, "and Gallant will beat this location out of them. That is the consequence of your act of responsibility." "Forgive me Godfather!" the angel slams his head against the floor of the office. Matsui instead kindly helps the angel back to his feet, a stark contrast to the anger shown before. "Be honest with me." Matsui asks in a gentle voice, "This attack on Gallant planned by you, whose sake was it for? My son''s or your own satisfaction?" "Of course it was for the young master!" the angel manages to blubber, not terribly convincingly. Matsui pats the angel on the back reassuringly, "I know Gallant cost you your manhood and one of your wings. Its fine if you hold a grudge, but I do expect honesty from my lieutenants." The angel merely sighs and hangs his head down in shame. Matsui nods sagaciously, expecting this response all along. He leads the angel to the window of the office, directing the lieutenant''s gaze to the swirling pool below. "Your mistake has cost us valuable time." the Godfather says, "We will need to relocate and the work is not yet complete. Can the family count on your strength?" The angel stands before Matsui and bows deeply, "Yes, Godfather! My strength is the family''s!" "Good. Good." Matsui hums and before the angel can react, the Godfather lashes out with the ball of his foot, catching his lieutenant in the chin. The angel is sent crashing through the window and with a shower of glass shards, plummets downwards straight into the red pool. The angel lands with a splash but hardly anyone bothers to pay him any attention. As the lieutenant struggles to surface, he shrieks with agony as the red water begins to strip the flesh from his bones. Smoke begins to rise from exposed patches of the angel''s skeleton as he flails his hands desperately, seeking help that will never come. Matsui impassively watches the proceedings from his perch and soon, the angel''s skeleton dissolves entirely, adding to the morass of slurry on the pool''s surface. Pathetic. If that man loved and respected Ken as much as he claimed to have, he would have been among the first volunteers who waded into the pool. Those family members also didn''t make such a fuss about the whole thing, performing their sacrifice in dignified silence. The Godfather grunts in satisfaction as he walks down the stairs towards the dance floor. A fitting end, all things considered. "Prepare to move out." Matsui instructs the guards surrounding the pool, "We need to make ourselves scarce before the blackguard gets here." "But what about -" one of the guards says, but his protests are cut short by an abrupt bubbling rising from the pool. The fleshy gunk churns as something starts to move within the pool''s depths. "Ah, so we made it just in time." Matsui observes in vindication. So that angel''s talk about providing his strength to the family was not just idle boasting after all. The slurry parts to the side and a skeleton with a horned head begins to rise from the pool. Bloody and coated in a thin layer of raw, freshly grown muscle, the skeleton takes a few cautious steps forward, its skull covered in a slimy membrane and blindly turning from side to side. The corded muscles obscenely tighten and contort as one hand is raised and a dagger like finger splits the membrane apart, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes grown into the skull. The eyes lock onto Matsui who hurriedly kneels in obeisance before the grotesque creature standing before him. The skeleton rattles as it spreads what is left of a pair of wings located on its back. Covered only by muscle, without any skin or feathers, the wings resemble large blades of bone more than anything else. Taking another step forward, the bloodstained creature extends a hand, placing it squarely on Matsui''s head. Elation soars in Matsui''s heart. His service has been acknowledged and accepted. The Godfather closes his eyes and basks in sheer joy, knowing that he has found his place in the world. Knowing that he has earned his place at the feet of the goddess. Shadows of The Past Dusk has fallen over The City as the evening begins to draw close. A quick check on the SUV''s on board map confirms that yes, I am indeed in the neighborhood where Hobo Beard''s laboratory is located. While it was tempting to complete my journey by driving straight to the lab, I instead stop the SUV at a parking spot by the side of the road and disembark, electing to hoof it on foot. Hernandez had assured me that I had several hours worth of grace before ORPO would respond to my escape, but I did not want to take any chances. Thanks to the red thread scattered throughout The City, the smart money is on Fate knowing that I am wandering about free. Just because ORPO is unresponsive doesn''t mean that Fate can''t send someone else to handle me. Parking a block away from the lab would hopefully create some confusion as to what my ultimate destination is. Not that there''s anything else of interest in this area other than the lab, but this paper thin deception should at the very least buy me some additional time. And when you''re a hunted man, every little bit extra counts. Settling into a comfortable stride, I begin setting off in the direction of the lab, my breath drawing wisps of mist as I exhale. The climate is getting colder and the days shorter. By my reckoning, the height of winter should have passed a few weeks ago. But there seems to be no end to it. I had originally thought that the climate was what passed for normal in this dimension, but a public service announcement playing on the radio put paid to that assumption. Unseasonable cold and heavy snowfall had inflicted a massacre on the homeless that reside on the night streets of The City. Never realized things had gotten quite so serious during the time I spent in the Sarcophagus. The camera feeds playing at the control station had never really displayed people suffering from the cold. But then again, I suppose that was not the focus of what The Voice was investigating. The poorer areas where the homeless congregate would also be the places least likely to be hooked up to The City''s native CCTV network. Sucks to be them I suppose. No point feeling bad about something I can''t really do anything about. I''ll need to make a mental note to ask The Voice to prepare me some thicker clothes if the weather keeps sucking ass like this though. Could I ask for a coat with that fancy space heater lining? Wouldn''t hurt to ask. Ducking past a thin net of red threads cast around the junction, I rapidly close in on my destination. The wreckage of the lab still looks exactly the same as the last time I was here, the front half of the building having completely caved in with burn marks heavily scarring the structure. The rear half of the building still stands, but whether there is anything worthwhile left inside is a separate matter. The site had been fenced off by yellow tape put down by SOPO and to my expectation, the tape has already been broken, leaving a length of it fluttering in the winter wind. Looking around, I notice several faded footprints among the dust and grit. Someone, make that multiple someones, had been here before. Frowning at this discovery, I begin picking my way through the wreckage with my fingers crossed. Passing the wrecked reception area and the hole The Voice had dropped me down into at the climax of my battle with Chance, I make it to the undamaged interior of the building. And find absolutely nothing. Judging from the scuff marks on the floor and the dust outlines left behind, our mystery movers had made off with several large, heavy objects. The lab''s equipment most likely. Thinking back, most of Hobo Beard''s lab stuff at Ascension Tower would have been originally delivered here. But all that crap would have been moved by Naiberg''s SOPO lackeys. It would not explain the broken yellow tape I found at the site''s entrance. Someone else had been here after SOPO left the scene. Someone not working with Hobo Beard. Not that this conclusion brings me any form of comfort. Naiberg had decided to go his own way, independent of Fate. Both his ''goddess'' and The Voice were lining up to take a dump straight on his head at the end of the day. Fate might have sent a more reliable minion to retrieve something that Naiberg had left behind here. Was I already too late to unearth any real secrets? An involuntary shudder grips me as I recall Naiberg''s end. The Voice had told me that Chance referred to Gallant as an enemy of the world before his sister. And Siobahn, unwilling to side against her brother, eventually turned against Chance. Enemy of the world. Chance may have been babbling a load of bull to Siobahn, but that descriptor suited Naiberg perfectly. Standing against the two presiding gods of this dimension, Naiberg wanted to become an obscene (well, he was already obscene to begin with) combination Icarus and Prometheus. Wielding divine power and using it to ascend ever upward. Did creating the Perfecta count as sharing the fire of the gods though? I suppose in a liberal sense, it did bring divinity to this world. Really ugly divinity, but beggars can''t be choosers. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Gallant may not have been the enemy of the world, but I might very well become Naiberg''s successor to that title if I''m not careful. Treading too close to The Voice''s secrets is not beneficial to anyone''s health. But I can''t keep flying with blinkers on in this dimension. I take a breath and steady my nerves. One step at a time. There might be an earth shaking secret hidden here. Or there might be nothing more than dust and debris left behind. No use getting ahead of myself. My musing is interrupted by stumbling upon a staircase leading towards a large, metal double door. What truly interests me is the clean length of iron chain wrapped around the door''s handles, sealing it shut. So this sub level was what the second set of visitors to the site were interested in. And if they had bothered to lock the place up, that meant that they had left something behind. Finally, a break in this investigation. Grabbing the chain and yanking it apart, I push the doors aside and they obligingly part. What greets me is a small storeroom. The walls look reinforced, explaining why the small quake The Voice triggered had left this place undamaged. And right in the center of the room is a rectangular empty space, probably left behind when the mystery movers made off with whatever they were after. Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I spy a set of drawers situated by the side of the room and move in to take a look. Pulling the topmost drawer open, I realize that it holds a single, utterly ancient poster. The poster is so old that it looks like it would flake apart if I tried touching it with my hands. Despite this, the art style and printing is all surprisingly modern. Not to mention the subject matter. A group of winged, horned creatures, a family perhaps, cluster below the rising sun. In the distance there is a sparking metropolis rising from the ground, right in the process of construction, scaffolding still fresh on some of the buildings. Underneath the ensemble is a length of cheerfully printed but completely indecipherable runic alphabet. Damn it. I had forgotten that there was no guarantee that I would actually understand anything that I would uncover. And I can''t very well bring this shit back and ask The Voice for a translation. No choice but to keep going I guess. My luck has held out this far. The next drawer is opened and in it, another one of those ancient-modern posters. This one has far more urgency in it, the runic printed in angry red. I blink when I take in the actual subject matter of the poster. The winged horned creatures are this time dressed as soldiers carrying rifles and swords with tanks and uh, SAMs, I think? Well, missiles, at any rate, paraded in the background. Jet fighters blaze across the blue sky heading to fight some unknown enemy. Weird. Totally weird. I have no idea what to make out of all this, but one thing is clear, this is the precursor civilization The Voice was talking about. But something doesn''t make sense. The Voice said that the precursor civilization was destroyed in a series of natural disasters which subsequently kicked off a genocidal conflict. Barbarians wouldn''t be able to use modern printing methods or field fighter jets. This means that the war came before, not after the natural disasters. This is it. I had my suspicions before, but I had finally managed to catch The Voice in a lie. This is what I had been looking for. Next drawer. A wood block printing. Old, but substantially newer than the earlier posters. And this time, the text on the painting is not in runic but in regular alphabet. Not that I can understand what its saying either. This one must have been printed once civilization recovered. And unfortunately, it looks like Fate propaganda. A picture of a winged veiled woman stands in the center of the poster, red threads spreading outwards like a halo. Fate''s arms cradles what appears to be a dead baby with a tiny halo of its own. Her figure is sandwiched by a pair of words. SOPFAEDOR. BEOMLAST. Whatever in the world that means. Second last drawer, and yes, another poster, a wood block print. This one shows a massive medieval army made out of men, angels and demons, marching into the distance. Towering over the army from the background is a golden skeleton, can''t tell of what creature. Fate hovers over the army with her wings, her hands caught in a dramatic gesture dispelling the mist that had been barring the army''s path towards the skeleton. And again, that incomprehensible text. SUPLAND! ABRECAN LEODHATA BREASTGEPANC! I have no idea what is going on anymore. Rubbing my temples in consternation, I open the final drawer. A painting, and this time, I understand exactly what it represents. Its a world map. Drawn in the classical style, a tiny guardian is painted on each of the map''s four corners. A veiled, winged woman. Fate. An armored knight. Cuckman probably. A demon in noble''s dress, Enma. And a faceless, nondescript man. That makes the servant. Fate and her harem protecting the world. But what throws me completely off is the map itself. When The Voice summoned me, it had shown me a map of the world as part of the briefing. From that point I had simply assumed that this world had a similar geography to my own. Similar geography, similar world, just with the added demons and angels. It was a reasonable assumption to make. A clever misdirection. But now I know the trick it had used. The Voice had never lied to me on this point. It had simply told a partial truth. Heart of the Matter When I was much younger, my sister kept a rabbit, Mr Bun, in the house with us. Mr Bun fancied himself an adventurer, hopping about the house and generally making a nuisance of himself. He would get into the drawers, behind the furniture and even getting into rooms where he was not allowed by pushing away at the door. None of us could be bothered with locking the doors so Mr Bun had the run of the place and I daresay he knew my house better than I did. When my sister bought Mr Bun, the pet store told her that housebound rabbits lived much longer lives than rabbits that spent time in the outdoors. No idea whether this claim was true (its probably a pile of crap), but my sister believed it at any rate. Mr Bun would therefore be allowed the run of the house, but he would never be allowed to take a single step outside. That was the only rule my sister laid down for Mr Bun. But Mr Bun would some days look out of the window with curiosity and thump his feet in annoyance at being kept in the house. So one day, I decided to leave the front door open by accident, knowing that Mr Bun would take the opportunity to run into the yard. I wasn''t afraid that he would run away, since the fence surrounding our property would keep him in. My sister''s freak out would be hilarious though, when she realized, or rather jumped the conclusion, that her pet would be playing in the grass, burning away his lifespan with every hop he takes. And so Mr Bun slipped out of the open front door into the great wide world. Before he came running back in immediately. No matter how I coaxed, Mr Bun would refuse to make another foray out of the house. He would steadfastly refuse to step out into the great outside ever again and would go on to spend the rest of his life indoors as my sister wished. I always wondered what scared Mr Bun so badly that he refused to make another dash for the outdoors. As far as I knew, there were no dogs or cats or other predators taking up residence in the yard. The yard was just as safe for a rabbit as the interior of the house itself. Looking at the map before me, I finally realize what had been going on inside Mr Bun''s pea sized brain when he took his first steps outside of the house. My mind swims and shouts incoherently in protest as it digests the information that had been fed to it. Mr Bun had spent rabbit decades exploring his world and knowing it inside out. Sneaking outside had shattered his illusions of what the world is, or rather what it should be. When confronted with information that contradicted everything that he knew about the world, Mr Bun decided to both literally and metaphorically run back inside the house, back to a place which made sense to him. I want to run away. Run, run, run away. But there is nowhere to run to. The truth is staring at me right in the face. I have to deal with it. The map The Voice had shown me when I was fist summoned was not wrong. Geography is pretty a much a one to one copy of earth from my dimension. The national borders of the various countries had been completely redrawn though and some countries had outright ceased to exist, but that was something to be expected from the ruinous Millennium War. Things were different, but familiar. That was why I could hit the ground running so quickly. The new world I was in was similar to my own dimension in all the ways that mattered. Except that The Voice had not shown me the entire world map. With the map in front of me now as a frame of reference, its clear that The Voice had zoomed in the world map it had displayed on the laptop, and by panning the image about, gave me the impression the world map in its entirety was being displayed. Conveniently omitting the parts The Voice wanted to keep hidden from me. I would be given enough information not to act like a stranger in a strange land, but remain ignorant about certain matters. And what was The Voice so keen in hiding from me? Honestly, I can only make a guess from the map Naiberg has kept hidden away. Not only can I not completely understand the ancient notations written on it, the information it displays is centuries out of date. Border demarcations and fancy heraldry cover the map''s surface, making reference to long dead nations and kings. I am a man of many talents, but making the dead speak is not one of them. So I begin to make some educated deductions. Firstly, this world is big. Much bigger than what I had previously assumed. The familiar landmass that I had assumed to be ''the world'' is located right in the center and only makes up around a fifteen percent of Naiberg''s map. And painted on the map right where modern Berlin would be is a golden church, or rather cathedral bearing the insignia of a featureless woman wrapped in red thread. Little painted figures of rugged looking men carrying pikes and muskets guard the borders of this section of the map. So, Berlin had been Fate''s base of power way back when this map had been printed. And now Berlin is where the Hero had been born. Coincidence? Or perhaps there is a deeper reason at work here? My common sense says yes to the latter, but I have no way of substantiating this suspicion. I just don''t know enough. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. My eyes begin to peruse the other sections of the map, the parts that The Voice had chosen to hide from me. To the East of the familiar landmass, separated by the deep blue sea is another continent, one that is is completely unknown to me. Earth had nothing like this. Unfamiliar cities founded in completely alien geography made out of primarily sparsely vegetated plains, rocky hills and if the map is to be believed, rivers of lava. There are even cities build deep into the mountains themselves. The figure of a scantily clad cat girl with desert flowers in her long flowing hair lounges by the scorching beach of this new continent, her hand beckoning someone in the distance to approach. Perched on the crags of the mountains are rhino and hawk men, arms folded and faces drawn in stern frowns. Hell. I am literally looking at a map drawn of hell. My eyes wander in the direction the cat girl''s hand is pointing at. To the western sector of the map. To what I assume to be the place where the Host had come from. Heaven. Green. Green all over the place. If Naiberg''s map is to be believed, heaven is just one big plain, flat as a board and carpeted all over with grass and the occasional tree. No cities either. Instead, there are drawings of angels with their wings extended, hauling yurts and livestock through the air. There''s even a comic representation of a pack of cherubs manhandling a sheep as they attempt to achieve liftoff with their stubby little wings. A group of angels led by a giant of a man stand at the borders of their realm, hands on the grips of their sheathed swords as they glare defiantly at the cat woman in the distance. No way. Angels descend from a nomad culture? It makes the Host appear far less impressive than the impression I had received so far. Cuck man was also the complete opposite of the bad ass warrior archetype that should have been born from nomads. Maybe that''s why he joined Fate''s harem in the first place. Couldn''t fit in back home. Had Fate being picking misfits for her husbandos instead of primo studs? All this is very interesting, but the map raises a troubling question. The Voice had said after the precursors fell into barbarism and general unpleasantness, it had been forced to separate them into three groups, housed in separate dimensions. But the map clearly shows that its the sea, along with a thin layer of mist, that separates the three groups from each other. Fate had clearly managed to recruit her three cucks as well, so crossing to the various sectors using medieval technology is possible. And that leads to another inconvenient question. Why can''t the P5 lob its nukes at heaven or hell? Earth, Heaven and hell are all on the same planet. So what''s the problem? The answer is obvious. The Voice had mentioned dimensional barriers placed between the ''worlds'' before and that the P5''s ICBMs would be able to burrow through a barrier weakened by Salvation. So it stands to reason that it is The Voice that has been preventing the P5 from using its nuclear arsenal freely. But is that the whole story? I scrunch my eyebrows together and try to work the facts out. The barriers between heaven, hell and earth have already been weakened. The Millennium War is proof of that. The Voice had also admitted that it feared Salvation because it would completely drop the dimensional barriers resulting in total war between all the factions breaking out. But there''s also the inconvenient fact that based on Naiberg''s map, heaven has no population centers to nuke. Hell would not be genocided either, thanks to its terrain. The cities by the lava river flat lands would be destroyed, but mountains can resist nukes. Several demon population centers would easily survive. Meaning the war would be bloody, but there would be no war of annihilation. The P5 would be wiped out, but the Legion and Host would keep doing their thing in reduced circumstances. And if the war of annihilation was off the cards, it meant one thing. What the Voice feared was never a war of annihilation, it was the dimensional barriers dropping and the war between the factions continuing without its input. From the fuss The Voice made out of possible nuclear strikes, it most likely feared the P5''s ICBMs targeting something in particular. That was the reason why The Voice has been so insistent about directing the new great war from the shadows. And then my eyes take in the northern and southern sectors of the map. Separated from the rest of the world by the ocean, Naiberg''s map displays large belts of mist, far thicker than what surrounds heaven or hell, forming a cordon around the northern and southern sectors. And residing in the north and south is a continent each. The northern continent is bare, except for tall pillars of bone and a blasted city not far from the coast. But its the southern continent that holds my attention. Painted on the coast is a kneeling corpse of a man dressed in black robes and hood, his shoulders hunched inwards as a human, angel and demon stab their spears into the corpse''s back. A massive sword lies shattered by the corpse''s feet. Deep within the continent, its soil the color of blood, is a city sized skeleton. The same skeleton displayed on the Fate propaganda poster with the army marching. Is this what The Voice has been trying to protect? If the mist is The Voice''s dimensional barrier, then that means that any army sent by Fate during the medieval period would most likely have failed to breach it. But modern ICBMs can pass through the mist, once it has been weakened by Salvation. And then I see it. Numbers. Written beside the drawing of the skeleton. Longitude and Latitude. Coordinates. Everything you would need to aim a missile. Year Present Day The screens that line the Sarcophagus''s control station ceaselessly play the surveillance feeds, dimly illuminating the room. I do not bother with cycling through the various cameras, that was merely a show for the Transmigrator''s benefit. Now that he is absent, I directly access the video through the console itself, parsing through multiple streams simultaneously, scanning for anything of interest. Dimly illuminated by the electric radiance is the slumbering form of Commander Hernandez, snoring away on the floor as he recovers from the surgery I had performed on him. I can see, but I cannot touch. Reduced to being a voyeur, to all appearances I have been rendered impotent, giving Fate a free hand on the surface of The City. But I am not without resources. Fate underestimates me at its own peril. Just because I have been rendered partially blind does not mean that my influence cannot extend to the surface. There are ways for me to strike back. I just need to employ some degree of creative thinking. I had told the Transmigrator that I did not know what Fate and the servant were planning. That was not a lie. Sending the Transmigrator up to the surface to investigate is no fool''s errand. But this is not my first battle with Fate. I have been on the receiving end of her deceptions before and can make a fair guess at what the ultimate aim of her plans are. Subversion. Treachery. Fate fights by getting others to fight for her. The native rebellions that she had fomented against me all those centuries ago. The braying mobs that heckled me on the day of my supposed execution. I did not forget. I still remember. If Fate thinks that it can rouse the natives against me this time, it is sorely mistaken. The City may be sealed off from my direct influence, but I control this world''s climate. It is child''s play for me to drop the temperature of the surrounding area. Fate''s power, no matter how great, cannot keep the force of nature at bay indefinitely. The deep freeze has already begun to bite into The City, and if the Sarcophagus''s monitoring systems are correct, casualties among the residents have begun to mount from the cold. The native herd, given a salutary culling through this preventive measure, will be in no position to raise their hands against me. Things by every measure, are going well. The Hero has impregnated all three Heroines. Nicholas von Amsterg has been badly injured and unlikely to be able to recover in time for the duel. The Hero with his reactivated powers and assisted by Heroine von Amsterg, is more than a match for Marshal St Clair. The Hero will win the duel, inherit the von Amsterg territory and be the catalyst of a new world war, saving my life. Yes, saving my life. Right from the start, it was never about saving the world. I would have liked to have made that reveal to the Transmigrator and revel at the dumbfounded look on his face, but then again, the man has already been vocal about his suspicions of my motivations. More to the point, I doubt that he would care much. Unlike his fellows taken to other realities, my Transmigrator never integrated or formed connections with the people of this dimension. Some of this was planned on my part, though much I suspect, boiled down to the Transmigrator''s singular nature. Fate had managed to weaken the dimensional barriers enough to trigger the Millennium War. That conflict caught me off guard and when the nuclear strikes were launched by the P5, I had to scramble to ensure that the fighting was contained within the world of man. But I succeeded despite the carnage that Fate wrought. With my help from the shadows, humanity managed to fight both the Legion and the Host to a standstill, forcing a truce into existence. Fate had failed to unite the natives through conquest. Just as it had failed previously to unite them through ''love''. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Then why am I feeling so nervous? Because just as I refuse to accept a usurper, Fate is not going to lie back and accept my plans. Thanks to Enma, Fate has the knowledge of how to bypass my dimensional barriers. And that knowledge in turn fell into the hands of the Legion, Host and P5. Sealing all three factions completely away from each other was no longer possible, so during the Millennium War I instead strengthened the barriers to the north and south, the hidden places of this world. My hopes to keep these hidden places inviolate were foiled when Naiberg survived his journey north, using blood sacrifice to force open a safe route through the barrier. Several lives spent and the intervention of a god, just to ensure the safe passage of a single man on a single plane. An impressive feat no doubt, but something that did not worry me at the time. After all, such tight limits on what could survive the voyage meant that my secret was safe from Fate. Whatever she sent against my secret, even if it survived the journey through the barrier, would hardly be able to accomplish anything. After all, what could a single plane sized object do? It was a far cry from the army Fate had sent before on their failed errand. Then the P5 began launching their nuclear missiles. And I saw just what small objects could do in this modern age. I had allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security, believing that the war would not escalate so far. The sudden reappearance of the codex began to make sense from that point onward. I needed the Millennium War to end quickly before the codex could be activated and deployed against me. So I swung my support in favor of the P5, bogging down the conflict and preventing a clear resolution from emerging. But destiny demands that the conflict between the three worlds be resolved, one way or the other. Fate had gotten the ball rolling, and I was not strong enough to stop it entirely. I did what I could, spawning the Hero to divert the stream of destiny on to a new path, dictating the war in such a fashion that would hurt Fate and not myself. The console beeps affirmatively as it makes the connection with the Six Trees hideout. Excellent, Alley had completed her task and established a link with the hideout and the Sarcophagus through a data port. I begin to build the umbilical to the Six Trees Hideout using the underground fiber optic line, reestablishing my control over the place of power. My metaphorical limbs stretch, tension disappearing as invisible muscles flex in readiness for action. Alley has chosen to rest at the hideout instead of leaving. Most curious. I will leave her to be dealt with by the Transmigrator, there are other more pressing matters to be handled currently. A mental command from me activates the laptop at the hideout and it begins to linkup with The City''s municipal and more importantly, ORPO''s own systems. The security programs on these systems are quickly crushed and I gain full, if mundane access. Its so much more trouble to do things this way instead of commanding by fiat, but until the Transmigrator can solve the mystery of what is going up on the surface, it will have to do. Annoyance builds as I try and fail to regain control of my airborne drone network. I had managed to seize control of a base transmission tower to send wireless transmissions out, but Fate''s influence prevents me from perceiving the response from the drones. Annoying, but at least I can send an order for the drones to standby for now. My attention turns back to a nondescript pillar in the control station. Completely ordinary, with no unusual features to draw the eye or raise suspicion. Normal for all intents and purposes. Other than being the hiding place for the codex. Salvation slumbers, heedless of the world turning. There''s power here, power outside of my own existence. I should have insisted to the Transmigrator that the codex should have been destroyed. But the Transmigrator is right. The codex is valuable. It represents an alien force that had brought me low before. I need to study it, absorb its secrets, so that I am ready to deal with any future interlopers into my dimension. The codex is dangerous to me, but it also offers an opportunity for me to grow more powerful than ever before. Excitement bubbles deep within me. The codex was my ruin. But I would be remiss in not learning from my mistakes. And I now have an agent, no two agents of my own. One day if all goes well this crisis will be over. Then perhaps ... I should start looking further afield? Club Land I grimace to myself as the SUV makes a sharp turn and travels deeper into the scabby part of Six Tress District. After I had scoured Hobo Beard''s lab for any further information, I was jumped by Matsui''s enforcers who had been camping by the lab''s burned out reception. The fight went as expected, even with the loss of an eye, I had no problem with beating the shit out of a handful of mooks. A few broken bones later and that sorry bunch were squealing about how my old buddy, Abs Angel had sent them over to teach me a lesson. Abs Angel is probably still sore about getting his balls kicked into oblivion. So I decided to pay him and Matsui senior a visit once I managed to get their current location out of the enforcers. Abs Angel''s minions told me that the gang was based out of a rave club which acted as both a legit business and a distribution point for Matsui''s drug running operation. I had punched in the club''s address into the SUV''s on board map and the route had taken me through a warren of confusing side streets. My sense of direction was never much good in the first place and by now I was mindbogglingly lost. The early darkness and heavy snow drifts were not helping matters either. The map eventually guides me to a large compound comprised of a double story building and a spacious parking lot. From the number of parking bays available and the valet rates being advertised on a wooden placard by the gate, Matsui had been expecting to do a good amount of business at this joint. Tonight though, the club has been closed, no lights are on and the velvet lined doors have been chained up. The large neon sign crafted in the silhouette of a naked woman morosely presides over the dusky surroundings, dimly illuminated by the street lights. Other than a few cars parked in front of the club, the parking lot is completely deserted. Everyone knows that there''s no party tonight it seems. I brake the SUV and check the on board map one more time, confirming that I am at the correct location. Shutting the vehicle''s engine off, I make my way towards the club''s entrance, passing under a pair of gaudy faux Greek pillars hoisting a sign bearing the club''s name overhead. CLUB CLEAN. Weird concept. Matsui might also want to invest in better janitorial staff if he wants to run with that name for his club. There''s trash and cigarette butts strewn all over the parking area. But then again, what do I know? I always felt that disco was dead. I''m no nightlife mogul, that''s for sure. Silence greets me when I reach the entrance. A placard with the word ''closed'' is slung over the door and a quick scan with matter sense tells me that there''s nothing moving around inside the building. Shit, am I already too late? Or did the Matsui enforcers send me off on a wild goose chase? No point thinking about that now, time''s wasting. A solid kick sends the door flying off its hinges and I storm into the club, ready for action. And of course nothing happens. I just wasted a cool pose and everything. Sighing to myself, I scan the area for any clues. And my attention is immediately drawn towards the swimming pool cut into the dance floor. The pool is filled to the brim with stagnant, brackish red water. A coppery stench rises from the pool and fills up the building, almost making me gag. But the pool is also seething with spiritual energy, a cloud of the stuff has formed just over the surface of the water like a dense fog. I walk up to the stage and pick up a microphone stand, bringing it to the edge of the pool. As my feet crunch against shards of broken glass left on the floor, I cast my eyes upwards, noticing the broken window of a second floor office. A fight took place here recently. So recently that Matsui did not have the opportunity to clean the place up. Was this the reason for Matsui decamping from his own base? Shrugging to myself, I begin prodding the pool of water with the microphone stand and begin moving the stand in a stirring motion. The water is thick and sludgy, but other than that, there''s nothing particularly unusual or dangerous about it. The stand does knock into some objects left floating about just beneath the water''s surface. No unseen beast makes a grab at the microphone stand and stirring the water does not seem to provoke any form of response. Bracing myself for the grossness to come, I reach into the pool with one of my hands, trying to scoop out one of those mystery objects. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Whoa, the water is almost jelly like as my hand swims towards its target, finally closing in. As I fish out my prize, my stomach churns as I realize what it is. A badly pitted, partially dissolved skull. Setting the skull by the side of the pool, I make another grab at the lucky dip and this time I pull out an angel''s wing from the pool. Gross. Super gross. The last party here must have gotten way out of hand. How many people have been dissolved in that pool? And more importantly, for what purpose? Whatever caused these guys to turn into sludge is no longer there though. I did not sense any stress building up when I dipped my hand into the pool. Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I continue my investigation of the club with renewed attention. Matsui was clearly up to some abomination of nature here, and no prizes for guessing at whose behest. Sequestered in a dark corner of the room I spot a long open crate. Looking completely out of place from its surroundings, the crate no doubt was brought here recently and in a hurry. Checking the surface of the crate, I notice an old bill of lading pasted to the side. My heart jumps at the original delivery address for the crate. Hobo Beard''s wrecked lab. So this was what had been moved out of the sub-level. Unfortunately the only thing left inside the crate is a layer of dust. The contents had long been emptied out. Damn it, its just like I feared. I am one step too late. But then, why did Matsui take the crate and not bother with the antique posters? There can only be one conclusion. The crate''s contents are necessary for whatever Fate has got planned. Whereas Fate doesn''t actually need the posters. After all, the only thing of value there are the world map coordinates. The crate most likely contained something that''s valuable and important, but also something that Naiberg wanted locked away and out of his bushy beard. Naiberg was planning to oppose Fate, meaning that he would want anything that would strengthen the goddess''s hand securely under lock and key. The huge increase in Celeste''s power comes to mind. Did Hobo Beard secure a power boosting mechanism? If the crate''s contents had something to do with the residue in the pool, then yes, it being a power boosting mechanism seems likely. Those dregs left behind are rich in spiritual energy. If Celeste''s anti access field is running off the good stuff that Matsui bothered to take with him when he fled this joint, yeah, I can see how she could become so powerful so quickly. Leaving the crate behind, I begin making my way up to the second floor and am confronted with a mahogany door with the name ''MATSUI'' embossed in it in gold trim. Matsui senior''s office, a good place to search. Breaking the lock and making my way inside, I survey the scene before me. Other than the shattered window, there''s no signs of violence or struggle. There''s a computer on the desk and a few files left in a cabinet. In a discreet corner of the office is a bottle of whiskey and a few shot glasses stored in a small cabinet. A familiar coppery scent wafts up from the glasses and it sure as hell isn''t the smell of whiskey. Has Matsui been chugging down the sludge from the pool? Forget Club Clean, call the place for what it is. Club Cannibal. I make a mental note to retrieve a sample from the pool for The Voice to examine while pulling out the computer''s hard disk. The paper files are then set on the floor in a neat pile as I go off in search of a bag to carry my haul away. No idea how much actionable intel this trove will yield, but at least I have something to show The Voice when I report in at the end of the day. Taking a celebratory swig of whiskey from Matsui''s private stash, I begin setting myself to the task ahead of me. ..... The bad man drives off in his car. He thinks he is smart, but Princess is smarter. Princess told me that the police Commander would betray us and let the bad man go. So I''ve been hiding in this car as my friend follows the bad man in secret. Following him wherever he goes. First to that big elevator close to the school with the police Commander, then near that burned out building. Finally to the club run by Ken''s family. Princess said that the bad man would be too distracted by her power to notice us following him, and she''s right. I didn''t even need to pray at all, and the bad man still did not spot me. We will keep following him, and tell Princess where he goes. And then one day, when the bad man least expects it - "Urrrghhh." Ken groans from the driver''s seat, drool leaking out from his open mouth. I quickly shut Ken''s mouth with my hands and clean up the mess with a tissue. Ken needs prayer in order to get better. I have to take him home soon. We will only be able to tail the bad man to one more location for today. As the bad man''s car leaves the side streets and joins the main road, I shake Ken gently. "Hey, hang in there, OK?" I urge. "Urrrgghh." "Princess will make everything fine. All this is worth it, you know?" I smile. "Urrrgghhh." "So like Princess says, let''s do our best together!" I cheer. "Urrrgghhhh." That''s right. Two friends, fighting the good fight, protecting all that''s beautiful in this world. I never wanted to live an adventurous life, but sometimes you just have to heed the call. Doing good really is its own reward. Beginning of the End After parking the SUV in the basement parking lot of Six Trees Hills, I grab the trash bag filled with files stolen from Matsui''s Club Cannibal and make my way to the Pit. As I approach, I hear the doors of the Pit unlock, confirming that The Voice is back in control of this hideout. Tired from the excitement of an entire day spent running about, I eagerly push the door open - - and find a snoring Alley splayed out across the lone mattress provided in the Pit. Alley had not bothered to maintain her illusions and the gentle motions caused by her snoring lets loose a small seismic quake across her jiggly, flabby gut. "Welcome back." The Voice rasps from the earpiece without preamble, "What have you discovered?" "Mind telling me what Alley is doing here?" I deadpan, putting the files down on to the table and taking off the trench coat. "Not a clue." The Voice answers indifferently, "Mrs Alley chose to sleep here instead of leaving once she completed her mission. I saw no harm in it since you had yet to return." "Thanks for nothing." I grumble and begin prodding Alley with the tip of my shoe, hoping to wake her up, "Alley has her own house in The City. If she wants to sleep, she can go back home to do it." "You may want to put on a pair of trousers before rousing Mrs Alley." The Voice observes, "I also notice that you have a troubling tendency to lose your trousers when on a mission. Why is that?" "Oh, give it a rest." I shoot back, "It was for a good cause." Alley begins to murmur as her sleep is disrupted and she swats weakly at my foot. I ignore her protests and intensify the prodding, my foot digging into the folds of her waist. Alley''s snores are cutoff midway as she snorts in annoyance, her eyes snapping open as her hand seizes my foot. "Knock it off!" Alley snaps angrily as her eyes swivel about, searching for the offender who disrupted her beauty sleep. Her gaze freezes as she takes in the sight of me in all my trouserless glory. I spread my legs and place my arms akimbo on my hips, towering over Alley like the colossus of myth, stifling laughter at the expression of growing shock spreading all over Alley''s face. Serves you right for playing home invader. The sight of my crotch is a pretty mild punishment, all things considered. "Gahhh!" Alley shrieks as her leg lashes upwards in panic. And I finally experienced what Abs Angel felt at my hands all those nights ago. ...... "It hurts." I murmur while lying on my stomach, my voice hoarse from all the hollering. My fingers tenderly poke at my balls and I wince at the residual pain. "Its your fault for scaring me in the first place." Alley scoffs, her arms folded across her chest, "Besides, are you drunk? I can smell the alcohol on your breath." "Not drunk." I mumble, sinking deeper into the mattress. At least Alley didn''t hit me hard enough to castrate Gallant. "You are drunk, Transmigrator." The Voice unhelpfully clarifies through the earpiece, "That is the only reason why you failed to activate the artificial core in time to resist Mrs Alley''s attack. For shame." "Look, I''ve got bigger problems to worry about alright?" I fire back at both The Voice and Alley. The Voice unpleasantly chuckles in response while Alley turns away and huffs in derision. Turning myself over, I regard Alley who steadfastly refuses to look in my direction, "What are you doing here anyway? Don''t you have a house of your own?" Alley''s face turns pale as she quickly shoots back, "No way. I''ve been hearing voices in my head ever since I came back to the surface. This is the only place where I''ve been able to get some sleep in peace." I nod to myself and shut my eyes in contemplation. Alley''s complaint is exactly the same as what Hernandez had been talking about. Just because they could resist Fate''s brainwashing didn''t mean that the experience was in anyway pleasant. Alley was never the most courageous of individuals. Being subjected to Fate''s influence must have given her cold feet. Alley''s trying to ride out the storm in hiding instead of actually playing a useful role. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "You can''t stay here. Period." I glare, hoping Alley gets the message. "I''m not going back out there." Alley insists, her hands on her hips. "There are other safe places, OK?" I sigh, "I''ll let you crash at my apartment at Unity Academy. Its been shielded against whatever causing the voices in our heads." "A fine idea Transmigrator." The Voice rumbles approvingly, "Mrs Alley can reestablish my link with the Academy hideout in return for shelter. I have spawned the key card for the apartment in the desk drawer." Alley looks doubtfully at me as I pick myself up and pull out the key card from the drawer The Voice had indicated. I then pull out the electronic doohickey Alley had plugged into the Pit''s data port before handing both items over to her. "You want me to do the same thing at the apartment?" Alley asks. "Yeah." I confirm, "Plug the box into the data port there and you can stay as long as you want." "How am I supposed to get to the Academy now?" Alley complains without budging an inch, "Its the middle of the night and I took mass transit to reach here." "Just take my bloody SUV OK?" I snap, reaching into the trench coat and tossing Alley the keys. The Voice might not like it, but I really want Alley out of my hair now. The SUV should be in good hands anyway, this is not the first time Alley would be driving it. And if anything goes wrong, The Voice can always just spawn a replacement. "Thanks!" Alley smirks as she raises the car keys in an abbreviated cheer. I give her a shooing motion as she leaves the Pit, slamming the door shut. As I hear the SUV''s engine firing up, I have the sneaking suspicion that Alley had snookered me real good back there. "It is not good practice to be so generous with something not owned by yourself." The Voice rasps disapprovingly as the locks of the Pit''s door click shut. "We need to talk." I say before The Voice can get to nagging me. "About you losing your pants all the time?" The Voice barks in laughter. "No." I respond in a completely serious tone, "I got jumped by ORPO and Matsui''s thugs today while investigating." "Mhm. Yes." The Voice rumbles, all mirth gone, "I have released the Commander from my custody after enhancing him to resist Fate''s influence. He should be able to deal with any further ORPO interference. Tell me more about the Matsuis." "I tracked them down to a club run by Ken''s dad." I reply while placing a bottle of the sludge I had retrieved from the club on the desk, "Everyone had flown the coop by the time I got there, but by then some pretty serious stuff had already gone down. Living sacrifice for one." "Biological matter of all three races." The Voice grunts, "At least that is what a cursory check of the bottle''s contents tells me. You are saying Matsui had been performing ritual sacrifices to Fate?" "Don''t know." I shrug, "But I did see a swimming pool worth of your biological matter in the club. It couldn''t have appeared out of nowhere." "And the files you brought back," The Voice muses, "it all came from Matsui''s club I suppose?" "Yeah. Need you to check for anything useful in them." I agree, "There''s something else I need to talk to you about as well." The Voice makes a questioning noise and for a moment I am tempted to ask about the stuff I saw at Hobo Beard''s lab. I quickly dismiss that thought though, revealing more that what I am supposed to know would introduce complications into this relationship that I am not ready to deal with yet. There''s also a far more pressing matter I need The Voice''s help to deal with. "The eye you fixed for me." I say, "Its blind. I can''t see out of it." "Impossible." The Voice denies, "I had repaired all the physical damage. There is no reason why it should not work." "Well, it doesn''t now." I grumble, "You see why this is a problem?" "Indeed." The Voice answers, "Very well. Go to sleep Transmigrator. I will examine the eye while you rest. At any rate, there is not much else that can be accomplished today." I stretch myself out on the mattress, making myself comfortable and soon enough, slumber overtakes my tired mind. .... "Princess is smart, isn''t she?" I ask the elderly man standing next to me in the darkness. "My son. Where is Ken?" Matsui asks and I stifle the bolt of impatience that lances through me. Pay attention to what really matters, will you? I can''t say this out loud of course, that''s what makes the situation so annoying. "Ken''s at my place resting." I smile gently at the old man, "He worked hard today you know? We only found out about Gallant''s hiding places thanks to him." The old man backs off, satisfied at my answer. Six Trees Hills looms ahead of us, the complex dark and silent under the cover of night. Behind us, several cars squeal to a stop, disgorging their passengers, tough looking men and women who respectfully assemble themselves into neat rows. Matsui turns to face the enforcers who in turn, bow respectfully at the godfather. "I won''t let Ken''s work be in vain." the old man tells me. I nod happily. Now this is more like it. "Go." a single word is all the godfather says to his men. But it is more than enough. Like a tidal wave, the enforcers surge forward into Six Trees Hills, seeking out the bad man. There is no escape. As I have always said, Princess is really smart. Prelude to Confrontation A sudden wrenching sensation throughout my entire body roughly pulls me out of my sleep. As I gasp and begin coughing to clear my throat, I feel my muscles begin to knit together as invisible rivets begin drilling deep into my body, fusing flesh and bone securely together. An electric shock is then sent surging down my spine, bringing irresistible pain with it, but also rousing me to full alertness. "Transmigrator, awaken." The Voice rasps urgently from the earpiece, "I am repairing the body as fast as possible. You must be ready to deploy immediately." "What in the world?" I hiss in pain as I drag myself up from the mattress. All around me, the lights mounted on the ceiling of the pit bloom to life, causing me to squint in discomfort. As my eyes open and shut, a sinking feeling hits me. One of eyes is still blind. The Voice has not managed to solve the problem afflicting it. "We are going to be under an imminent attack from the Matsui." The Voice rumbles hurriedly, "I have spawned your gear on the desk. Prepare yourself and wait for further instructions." "No way!" I shout and immediately leap to my feet, wincing from the soreness in my muscles, "I thought you said that the Pit''s a safe place?" My eyes turn to the desk and find the set of clothing neatly folded on top of it. Black hood, black trench coat, black trousers and don''t forget black boots and gloves. The Voice''s tastes in fashion swung evenly between ''bad'' and ''hilariously edgy''. Leaning against the foot of the desk and completing the ensemble is a familiar double handed sword. The laptop sitting in the center of the desk boots up and its screen flickers to life, displaying a montage of security footage selected from cameras throughout Six Trees Hills. The camera footage shows an unending swarm of men and women storming into Six Trees Hills, fanning out methodically searching the complex floor by floor. Whenever they are foiled by a locked door, the intruders vigorously pound it into splinters before resuming their mission. The laptop then focuses on the cameras around the basement parking area. The place has been plunged into darkness, likely from a power outage, with no cars going in or out. The Matsui have thankfully not begun searching the basement yet, but they have posted guards around the main exit and the fire escape staircase, bottling me in. The Voice explains, "Six Trees Hills is being invaded by the Matsui. From the numbers they have deployed, a fair assumption would be that elder Matsui has dispatched his entire organization against you. I have lured the Matsui away from the basement through a series of red herrings on the upper floors, but this will only buy us time. The Matsui will sooner or later search the basement parking area." "Can''t we wait them out?" I question while putting on the armor, "Six Trees Hills is big. Its already five am. The Matsui can''t play at being storm troopers during daytime." "Numbers, Transmigrator." The Voice unhappily answers, "By my estimate, the Matsui have enough men to perform a rough sweep of the upper floors within one and a half hours. After that, it is likely they will turn their attention to the basement. Though they may retreat once the sun breaks." "Cutting it real close." I swear, "I could roll the dice and stay hidden, but the Pit would only be safe for probably one more day before the Matsui return the next night to complete their search. Or I could chance it and attempt to break out now while they are distracted. Is that what you are saying?" "Yes." The Voice confirms, "We need to avoid this turning into a siege scenario where the Matsui will be able to grind you down through attrition. Nevertheless, how did the Matsui manage to track you so quickly?" I click my tongue in annoyance, "Fate''s got its red thread all over the surface. I thought that I was safe after beating down the Matsui ambush, but it looks like Fate had been keeping tabs on me all this while." "Annoying." The Voice harrumphs, "I was hoping that we would be able to act more freely, but -" "What''s wrong?" I ask, taken aback by The Voice''s sudden silence. The Voice rasps, "Commander Hernandez is on the line. Connecting you now." I grunt in confirmation and there''s a static pop as The Voice leaves the conversation. "Smart ass." a whispered, high strung hiss sounds through the earpiece, "Can you hear me smart ass?" "What''s up, Commander?" I quip, trying to put the encroaching Matsui on the back burner of my mind. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! "There''s a skinless freak in the station." Hernandez''s whisper becomes shrill before he manages to get in control of himself, "A skinless freak with a veil on its face. Its taken control of everyone here." Veil on its face? No way. This better be not what I think it is. I hear a sharp intake of breath from The Voice as a sense of disquiet falls upon both of us. "Will you just relax?" I urge Hernandez, "Take things from the top so that I can understand." "I went to meet your boss right?" Hernandez mutters, "Can''t remember everything that happened, but I think we talked and things become hazy after that? I only really came to once my car was parked in the driveway of the house." "Don''t worry about it. What you experienced is just a security measure." I explain, "What happened after that?" Hernandez swallows audibly as he continues, "Got a call from HQ on my mobile, wanting me to head back immediately. So I started driving back, but those dip shits didn''t know that I was driving an ORPO squad car, not my personal ride. When I was closing in on the station, I heard the order go out through the dispatcher''s general frequency. ORPO knows that I let you go Gallant. There''s an arrest warrant out for me." "What!" I exclaim, "You''re the bloody Commander of ORPO. How could an arrest warrant be issued against you of all people without any prior warning?" "That''s the thing." Hernandez growls, the tension edging into his voice again, "Its impossible for ORPO to get a warrant out against me at this time of the night. All the magistrates that can issue one are sleeping right now. And I sure as hell did not sign a twenty four hour remand order against myself. The warrant''s bogus, someone wants me to be put away. Or maybe even disappeared." The Voice rasps, "The Commander is correct, Transmigrator. I have managed to restore my link to ORPO''s systems and am performing a search right now. There is no such warrant issued against him." "OK." I say as calmly as possible, my grasp on the situation slipping away at a dangerous pace, "So where are you now?" Hernandez goes back to his hoarse whisper, "Hiding right under the candle flame. ORPO can track its squad cars, so I had no choice but to complete my journey to HQ. Doing anything else would raise immediate suspicion. The rear windows are heavily tinted though, to prevent passers-by from seeing any prisoners we are transporting. I have been hiding in the car and listening in to the dispatcher all this while." "Haven''t pissed or shit yourself yet?" I joke, trying to lighten the mood a little. "Har de har." Hernandez snaps, "Look, this is serious Gallant. I need help here. Around half an hour ago, Godfather Matsui''s limo pulled up in the parking area and that skinless freak walked right out and into the station''s elevator. Then all I hear from the dispatcher is praise the goddess this and praise the goddess that. The noise in my head has also gotten worse. Much worse." "Tapping into the feed from ORPO HQ''s cameras." The Voice immediately rasps as new windows begin popping up on the laptop''s screen. And I see it. A raw, bloody figure strides confidently down the halls of ORPO HQ, a shabby veil is sloppily placed over its head and its body clad in an ill fitting evening gown. The dress is clearly meant to show off some skin, but from the camera feed, all I see are bloody red patches both muscle and exposed organs pumping away, peeking coyly from under the provocative cut of the gown. A pair of bony wings with a scanty few feathers growing on them twitch restlessly from the figure''s back. Hernandez is right. This thing is a real freak. "What do you expect me to do?" I ask while staring transfixed at the video feed, now showing more and more ORPO officers falling in behind the skinless freak as it continues its circuit around the station. "I need you to get me out of here!" Hernandez blares before stifling his voice, "Just get over to the station and do your thing, OK?" Then the call is abruptly cut off. "There is an urgent matter that has been brought to my attention." The Voice pronounces, "I will provide assistance to Commander Hernandez as far as possible, but he will have to sink or swim by his own strength. We have a larger problem to deal with." "Do tell." I sigh. The Matsui problem is not yet dealt with and now another mountain of shit is crashing my way. The laptop now displays the ORPO officers gathering in a large room serving as a bay for the mech suits. Another window opens and shows large numbers of officers arming up in the HQ''s arsenal. "Intercepts from ORPO''s systems indicate that they are preparing a strike right now." The Voice states, "A strike involving as many assets as they can summon on short notice." "How many officers are we talking about?" I question, eyes narrowing. "All dedicated special tactics units, so effectively all ORPO mechs and paramilitaries will be participating." The Voice rasps, "Any available patrols are also being stripped from the streets and ordered to join up with the attack force." "That''s like, almost everything ORPO has in terms of firepower." I muse, "And the target of this strike?" "The Sarcophagus." The Voice rumbles, "More specifically, my place of power there." "Shit." I mutter. "Indeed." The Voice agrees, "Now you understand the severity of the situation. I cannot lose the hub as it would mean losing my only means of maintaining a presence on the surface. The choice has been made for us Transmigrator. You must break out of Six Trees Hills and assist in the defense of the Sarcophagus." "You can''t deal with ORPO flatfoots by yourself?" I ask, disbelieving. "There are other factors at work here." The Voice evades, "My reading of the Crossroads tells me that the forces arrayed there will not be enough to secure our victory." "That freak we saw on the video. What was it?" I press, "And answer me honestly." "I do not wish to speculate." The Voice demurs. "But you know." I insist, "Or at the very least can make a very good guess." Silence is all I receive, until finally, The Voice deigns to reply. "An old rival has decided to make an appearance." The Beast Within "Are you crazy?" I exclaim, the shock of all the shit hitting the fan at once getting to me, "You seriously expect me to throw down against a god?" "No, Transmigrator." The Voice sighs, "I will be battling Fate. I expect you to keep ORPO at bay while I am occupied. So as the people of your dimension would say, ''calm your tits''." "My tits are as calm as cucumbers." I snort, folding my arms, "I just can''t help but feel you are downplaying the situation." "The situation is what it is." The Voice verbally shrugs, "The sooner you accept it, the faster we can take the necessary action." I nod tiredly in response and the laptop''s screen shifts to show the status of the Dreaming Spires Inclinator. All readings are green, but suddenly an angry red flash streaks across the screen and the words ''LOCKED DOWN'' are smeared across the window in massive bold print. Cameras mounted in the Inclinator''s shaft display the elevator retreating into the depths of the Sarcophagus before a pair of hulking blast doors seals the shaft from the surface. "Excellent. Now listen." The Voice begins, "I have recalled the Inclinator back to the Sarcophagus and locked down the access shaft. This means that the most direct path to the hub is a several thousand meter drop past the Sarcophagus''s blast door." "Clever." I remark, "That takes ORPO''s tanks and regular infantry out of the picture. No way those units can survive the drop down the shaft. But can Fate even get past the blast door in the first place? You told me that the Sarcophagus was designed to resist a nuclear strike." "Readings from the Crossroads indicate that the blast door will buy us time," The Voice rasps, "but it will not keep hold Fate off indefinitely. I also wish to remind you that ORPO''s mechs are capable of flight and will survive the drop into the Sarcophagus. Your presence is very much a necessity." "Fine. Fine. Keep going." I mutter. The Voice rumbles as it pulls up a map of Six Trees District on to the laptop''s screen, "Due to the lock down I have triggered, you will not be able to reach the hub directly. Instead, you will journey to the Inclinator located at Six Trees District and access the Sarcophagus from there. Once you are underground, make your way to the monorail station. I will have a shuttle prepared to take you to the hub." A bright highlighted line is drawn on the map, showcasing the route from Six Trees Hills to the District''s Inclinator. I take a long hard look at the map, committing the route to my memory. "Got it." I grunt in affirmation. "Are you sure?" The Voice asks, "I was under the impression that you were directionally challenged. Be aware that I will not be able to guide you once you leave the hideout." "When I say I got it, it means I got it, OK?" I answer waspishly from the stress, "Have some faith." "Mhm. Strange for a mortal to make such a demand from a god, but we live in strange times." The Voice concedes, "I have prepared your mode of conveyance. Now I must attend to the hub''s defences. I will meet you there soon." The line over the earpiece goes dead and at the same time, a loud crashing noise comes from the partition screening the shower from the rest of the Pit. The cheap wooden cubicle falls apart as the ORPO patrol bike rolls out from the shower stall. "How did you get the bike to fit in there anyway?" I ask. No response. Seems like The Voice is serious about being busy. Strapping the sword securely to my back, I proceed to pull on the black executioner''s hood. I would have preferred, you know, a proper motorcycle helmet, but beggars can''t be choosers. Mounting the bike, my awareness expands as I probe the basement parking area with matter sense, tracking the positions of the thugs Matsui had left behind here. A small handful of them, nothing I can''t handle. Satisfied, I mount the patrol bike and gun the engine, its roar causing the walls of the Pit to tremble. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. I send the bike charging forward at full tilt, smashing apart the doors of the Pit. The bike peels towards the exit, accelerating rapidly. As the panicking Matsui enforcers clumsily move on foot to intercept me, I draw the sword and swing it at the nearest flunky, decapitating him in a single stroke. The enforcers scatter before their comrade''s head hits the ground as I punch through the siege and disappear into the night. ..... My mind''s eye focuses as I recall the route to the Inclinator, sending the bike towards a series of old warehouses. All things considered, I should have expected something like this happening. The Voice had personally intervened in the battle for the codex. Once that happened, all bets were off. Fate would not have allowed such an escalation to go unanswered. This reasoning does not make me feel any better though. The Voice and Fate throwing down would be like a pair of elephants fighting to the death. No matter who wins, everything around them would be trampled. I have no idea what kind of heat the two gods are packing in the upcoming battle, but I would do well to keep my head down when things get hot. Either that or make sure to have plenty of ORPO bodies around me to serve as a meat shield. A hard swerve of the bike takes me into a turn I very nearly missed and just ahead of me is the warehouse The Voice''s map had indicated. Unlike the Dreaming Spires Inclinator, the Inclinator at Six Trees was hidden in a warehouse, probably to keep it away from vandals or more likely junkies trying to salvage scrap metal and wires for their fix. It would be pretty embarrassing for The City if a war breaks out and no one could use the Inclinator thanks to the code box being carted off to buy a few hits of Special K. The doors of the warehouse are open, inviting me in. Great, I''m in the right place. The motorbike carries me through the threshold of the warehouse, when suddenly a stray thought hits. The Voice can''t manipulate anything on the surface not linked to the hub. My mind screams a warning at me just as a metal girder suspended by a length of cable is swung from the rafters straight towards my head. My enhanced reflexes take over and I power slide under the incoming projectile, causing the tires of the motorbike to squeal and burn in protest. The bike continues to slide towards the end of the warehouse, where the Inclinator squats like a metal sphinx. There''s a low hum of engines running and the lights on the Inclinator''s display are green, but the shutter resolutely refuses to open. The Voice must be waiting for me to clear out the ambush before opening the Inclinator up. Cursing at this unwelcome wrinkle in the plan, I pull at the motorbike''s handles hard, righting the contraption before dismounting. My eyes drift to the rafters above me, where a series of figures are perched, hunched over like overgrown monkeys. "Boo!" a childlike voice says, "The bad man managed to dodge!" My eyes focus on the speaker. Its Peter Pan, all the way back from the Kingdom of Love. The last I saw him, I had shot a massive hole in his gut. He''s looking much better today, physically at least. Don''t know about how his head is doing. "Get out of here." I wave dismissively, "You guys are way to small time for me." Peter Pan bares his teeth angrily at me, looking more monkey like by the minute. Before Peter Pan can do anything though, the figure crouching next to him pulls at his shoulder. Its Spikes, still with the outrageously gelled hair and piercings. Spikes gives me an ugly look before leading Peter Pan away from me, as the group makes their way towards the opposite end of the warehouse, loping through the rafters as they go. Most of the group that is. There is one lone figure staying where he is, dressed in a dirty school uniform, hunched over with his face turned down. As his fellows back away, the figure''s lifts his head up and sniffs the air like a wild animal. An unkempt and unshaven face, with eyes that radiate lunacy. But I recognize that teenager all the same. Its Delinquent. A low snarl emits from Delinquent''s mouth and he drops from the rafters with a pounce, landing on the ground before me on all fours. ''Aren''t you supposed to be retarded?" I ask Delinquent as he stalks towards me, using his arms to propel his body like a parody of an ape. "Ugh. Ugh. Ugh." Delinquent pants with his tongue rolling about, slavering as he approaches me, "Urrrggghhh." "Yeah. Definitely retarded." I note, drawing my sword. This isn''t going to be murder, its a mercy killing. Delinquent lifts his body and thrusts his chest forward, beating it with his fists. A shrill animalistic battle cry booms from the depths of Delinquent''s lungs. "REEEEEE" And with that, Delinquent, the man who became a monkey charges into battle. The Chosen Under God The monkey man formerly known as Delinquent lunges forward and swings his arms wildly at me, a look of bestial fury on his face. I easily weave aside from the clumsy and clearly telegraphed blow, readying the sword for a decapitating strike. Above us squatting on the rafters of the warehouse are the retard guard, hooting and cheering for Delinquent. "No time to waste on you, small fry." I snarl, "The main event is about to start." The sword slices through the air, seeking Delinquent''s neck. But Delinquent abruptly breaks into a roll, dodging my attack by a wide margin. As I curse to myself and pull my arms back to regain my stance, Delinquent darts forward again, this time is right arm bulking up and splitting the sleeve of his Academy blazer wide apart. The muscles on Delinquent''s arm thicken to the size of a tree trunk and black hair begins sprouting all over it. The man had been acting like a monkey, and now his body is literally transforming into one. A new power granted by Fate? Whatever, I have thrashed literal divine champions before this. Monkey man has got nothing on the Incarnates. I bring the sword down in a double handed chop, seeking to amputate Delinquent''s enlarged limb. Delinquent shifts his body ever so slightly, and the blade misses his arm ever so slightly, hitting the ground with a shower of sparks. Impossible. Delinquent is nowhere fast or skilled enough to dodge my attacks this easily. What''s going on? As I try to get my balance back from the fudged strike, Delinquent slips under my guard and his monkey arm swings upwards in a vicious uppercut. Before I can react, the fist makes contact with my chin, snapping my head upwards as my feet lift off from the ground. My limbs flail about in panic as my eyes lose focus for a second and I feel the impact of multiple sledgehammers slamming into my torso as Delinquent unloads into me. A powerful hook from the monkey arm plows into my gut, sending me flying away from Delinquent and sprawling across the ground. "Ook. Ook." Delinquent grunts as he beats his puffed up chest, "REEEE!" "Yeah." I mutter while getting back up to my feet, "Not my finest showing." "Yeah. Kick the bad man''s ass!" Peter Pan hoots from the rafters. "Time to get serious." I snarl, kicking off the ground at full tilt, charging straight at Delinquent, the sword at the ready. Delinquent''s body spasms as I close in on him, ugly swellings forming on his head, distorting his already strained features. As my sword slashes towards his waist, the monkey man dives to the side, but this time, I''m moving too fast for him to retaliate. The monkey arm comes back around for another hit but I casually flip over it and land facing Delinquent''s back. "Gotcha." I smirk moving my arms up to perform the finishing blow. And Delinquent dodges away once again. But this time, I notice how he manages it. Delinquent is not actually dodging when I attack. He actually begins moving just before my attack begins, like a control input reading bot you sometimes see on arcade games. Monkey man even manages this with his back turned to me, almost as if he possesses a kind of sixth sense. Putting this theory to the test, I pump more power into my arms, and lash out with the sword again, striking far faster than Delinquent has the ability to dodge. And Delinquent throws himself to the ground several seconds before I even begin swinging my sword, managing another close dodge. This proves it, the monkey man somehow knows the moves I''m going to make and can predict them with near hundred percent accuracy. Delinquent can hit nowhere hard enough to actually hurt me, but he''s been sent here by Fate not to kill me but to act as a speed bump. Fighting Delinquent normally would just result in the pair of us fruitlessly trading blows, costing me time that is already running out. Raising my speed to simply overwhelm him with brute force would cause the build up of stress, weakening me for the main event that''s scheduled later. I need a way to prevent Delinquent from playing keep away. And if I can''t hit him, then I''ll just wait until he comes at me. I being backing up towards the shutters as monkey man bounds towards me on all fours, my reflexes raised to just beyond his level. Relaxing and calming my mind, I put all thoughts of attacking Delinquent away and focus solely on defense. Delinquent''s eyes light up with a malicious gleam as the monkey arm pulses out in a blur, making a clanging sound as I bring the flat of the blade up to block. My feet shuffle backwards from the impacts of monkey man''s fist. Delinquent''s mutant arm tenses as the muscles harden, jack hammering straight towards me. The blade is brought up once again to block, but this time the strength of the blow smashes aside the sword. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Now! My hand blurs into action, reflexes already primed for action. Delinquent''s eyes widen in alarm as he tries to draw away, but my hand is faster, closing around the incoming fist. A shock wave travels up my arm as my fingers close in on the fist and I tighten my grip on Delinquent. Monkey man roars in defiance as he vainly pulls to free himself. But I send more power from the artificial core into my hand and like a vice, it begins to crush the bones of Delinquent''s fist. The bulges on Delinquent''s head begin to glow ominously and tiny red threads begin to sprout from them. As I watch in morbid fascination, the red threads begin to travel down Delinquent''s other arm, weaving themselves into the bone and muscle. And just like before, Delinquent''s second arm repeats the process of bulking up, mutating into something far more animal. Moving quickly before Delinquent can use his newly enhanced arm to fight out of my grapple, I spin around and in one smooth motion throw the monkey man as hard as I can into the Inclinator''s shutter. Delinquent flies through empty space and collides into the shutter, smashing it apart and crashing on to the Inclinator itself. I pick up my sword and before the retard guard are able to react, pounce into the Inclinator myself, stabbing the control button with my finger to begin the elevator''s descent. Delinquent thrashes about on the floor, shaking off the cobwebs in his head as the Inclinator''s engines roar to life, drowning out the protests of the retard guard. As the elevator sinks into the depths of the shaft, I see Peter Pan make a flying leap towards us, the rest of the retard guard following close behind. A dismissive swing from my sword is all it takes to behead him and with a shower of blood, his decapitated corpse collapses on to the surface of the Inclinator. The rest of the retard guard hesitate for the barest second, unsure whether or not to try their luck. I drive home my point by picking up Peter Pan''s head and pitching it at his buddies like a fast ball. The head takes Spikes squarely in the stomach and bowls him backwards into the rest of the retard guard, knocking them all over like ninepins. A perfect strike. With a low groan, a pair of blast doors seal the shaft above us, preventing the retard guard from following. With that problem settled by The Voice, I turn my attention back to Delinquent who by now had begun to get his bearings. But something is wrong. His eyes are focused and alert, but the monkey man is not paying attention to me. Instead, Delinquent scrabbles desperately at his body, howling at the top of his lungs while rolling around on the floor. Foam begins to form at Delinquent''s mouth as the bulges on his head tremble with pent up energy. The once smooth red thread that extends from the growths throughout Delinquent''s body suddenly becomes ragged and bristles angrily, as if an invisible force is tugging at them. Delinquent begins banging his head on the ground in a frenzy, shrieking non-stop. "Pain pain pain pain pain pain pain" Delinquent drones stupidly, a meaningless babble coming from his mouth choked with blood flecked foam. The red threads in Delinquent''s body draw and contract, draw and contract, fraying little by little. Before they finally snap. Delinquent gives a final shriek of agony and throws up a massive glut of blood. His pants become wet as piss and shit explode from his unmentionables. The pair of monkey arms grasp weakly at the air for any form of relief or salvation, but nothing comes. Delinquent collapses face first on the floor, ending his life by drowning in his own puke. "You are welcome by the way." The Voice rasps from the earpiece, "It took you long enough to handle Fate''s minions." "What in the world happened to Delinquent?" I ask while dusting myself off, "And how did you take him out just like that?" The Voice rumbles, "I did nothing to Mr Matsui. He merely committed suicide via massive organ failure once his body realized the abomination it had become." "Organ failure?" I frown, furrowing my brow, "Are you talking about the kill switch that you installed on everyone born in this world?" "Indeed." The Voice answers, "Mr Matsui had survived for so long due to the surface being cut off from my influence. Once the Inclinator took him underground though, the kill switch came back online and terminated him." "Huh. So Delinquent was turning into an Incarnate then?" I ask while investigating the corpse. "Yes and no." The Voice muses, "Mr Matsui clearly lacked the power of an Incarnate, but if the kill switch was triggered, then the spiritual changes he was undergoing must have been extremely similar." "Don''t see anything similar between monkey man here and the Incarnates." I grunt while lifting Delinquent''s head up, cautiously prodding the bulges on it, "Damn, something was growing in here. Caused Delinquent''s skull to expand outwards." I take up the sword and carefully make a slice down Delinquent''s head before using my fingers to pry his skull open. Need better tools for this kind of precision work, but I''ll make do. I finish by peeling the crown of the skull off, revealing Delinquent''s fried brain to the world. And what a brain it is. Nestled among the greyish mass are huge growths pulsating with spiritual energy. Tumors. Broken strands of red thread swim within the growths and I pluck one out of Delinquent''s brain, leaving a trail of slime behind it. "Gross. You know what this is?" I ask The Voice. "Examining it now." The Voice replies, "A preliminary guess would be these tumors are meant to be replacement parts for Mr Matsui''s damaged mind. I have also determined what the tumors are made out of." "Do tell." I say dropping the tumor back into Delinquent''s brain and cleaning my fingers on his school uniform. "Raw genetic matter." The Voice pronounces, "A combination of all the three races. A primordial soup of you will." "And where did Fate get its hands on that?" I quip, having finished cleaning myself up. "You tell me Transmigrator." The Voice hums, "You were the one who brought me a sample in the first place." "No way." I breathe. "Oh yes." The Voice confirms, "The sludge from Matsui''s club. I think we can ascertain the nature of the ritual taking place there. Drinking the blood. Taking in the flesh." So in other words ... Communion. Ascendant of the All Father In the distance, hovering high above the towers of bleached bone is a giant tent, sewn out of animal hide and kept aloft by a series of lanterns anchored across the tent''s surface. Angels fly about on their radiant wings, tending to the burning braziers beneath the lanterns and occasionally manipulating the sails that allow the tent to catch the wind. "Wow!" the nameless servant breathes, "A Host sky home. Her Highness and I never got to see one while we were hiding out in the Land of Light." Castiel frowns as he looks at the sky home drifting on its patrol route just over the horizon from where Salvation is located. Their small group had made the journey north by sea and then trekked inland on foot, guided by Enma. The former Prince had warned them that breaching the fog would alert the True Emperor to their presence, but Anri had felt the risk coming here was worthwhile. Castiel agreed at that time as well, but the presence of a sky home changed everything. A sky home''s name is somewhat deceptive. While angels can and do use it as habitats, that is not the structure''s real function. Its actual purpose was to be a mobile base for angel war bands, allowing the troops to move freely and support themselves even deep within enemy territory. Castiel had been part of a sky home war band at the height of the clan war, when the great houses of the Host feuded on whom would lead the Land of Light. Sky homes were incredibly expensive to make and immeasurably precious to the clan who owned them. For one to brave the great rift could only mean one thing. "The True Emperor sent them here." Castiel remarks, "Look closely boy. See the barges embarking from the sky home?" The servant squints and sure enough, a series of open top barges disconnect from the sky home''s moors, suspended in the air by a smaller yet similar set of lanterns. Each barge is piloted by a crew of angels, but the bulk of the space is taken up by figures clad entirely in black. The barges gradually drift downwards, towards the feet of the ruined glass towers that make up this mysterious city. "Blackguards!" the servant shouts in alarm, "How did they get here so quickly?" Castiel folds his arms grimly, "The True Emperor must have demanded the Host supply him with one of the sky homes. It moves faster than any ship and can carry more soldiers than most. Thankfully, the True Emperor has chosen to rely solely on his Blackguards, so we will not be fighting any angels." "And here I thought you had lost your balls." an obnoxious, jeering voice mocks from behind, "At least this time you will be doing something useful." "Ah, Prince Enma!" the serving boy greets, "Is her Highness ready to leave? We still have time to escape." Enma emerges from the depths of Salvation and claps the serving boy on the shoulder with a smile while pointedly ignoring Castiel. Enma replies, "Anri is still in the Ascension Chamber. The process is not yet complete. But unlike a certain someone, I have faith in the gifts Salvation has provided us. Between the three of us, we can deal with the Blackguards." Castiel scowls back, "Caution is not cowardice Prince Enma. Evading the Blackguards is safer for all of us, especially for milady. Besides, I recall someone hiding in his palace and begging for mercy before the late Sacred Executioner." Enma flushes as the serving boy rushes between the two men, physically keeping them apart. "Sir Castiel," the servant asks respectfully, "How long do you think we have before the Blackguards attack?" Castiel closes his eyes, relieved to have something other than Enma''s disgusting presence to focus on. After a moment''s thought, he finally replies, "It would take the Blackguards around half an hour to make landfall from their barges. Then probably another hour to march here and surround the crater we are in before attacking. Not enough time for milady to complete her ascension." "Wrong." Enma cuts in smugly, "Blackguards always summon more of their ilk before attacking any foe. For all their boasting and strength, Blackguards are at their core cowards. They will seek to thoroughly overwhelm their opponents through pure numbers. My guess is that they will take around an hour to summon the numbers they need before setting off to face us." Castiel flushes in embarrassment but does not rebut Enma''s analysis of the situation. Petty bickering is something the group does not need, now that things have become so dire. "Two and a half hours." the servant muses in his light innocent voice, "Is that enough time for her Highness to get her gift from Salvation?"The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. This time it is Enma''s turn to look contrite, "Probably. It would be very close however. The process seems to be more complicated for Anri. Salvation is taking its time with her." Castiel nods, "Then all we can do is wait and serve as milady''s shield when the time comes. If anyone wants to run off into Salvation to cower, they are free to do so." "Hmph. Speak for yourself." Enma shrugs as he squares his shoulders, "I am staying right here." ..... "I can see them marching towards us Sir Castiel!" the servant shouts in alarm, as the stomping boots of the Blackguards churn up great dust clouds into the stagnant air. "You heard the boy milady." Castiel urges the veiled woman standing behind the group, "This plan has the highest possibility of success. Now go!" "I won''t run from the True Emperor, not anymore." Anri declares, "I can fight. Salvation showed me my real strength." "Anri, stop being stubborn." Enma chimes in, "Salvation might have awakened something within you, but you didn''t get divine powers like the rest of us. Stick with the plan so we can protect you." "No! Enma you don''t understand!" Anri cries in frustration, "None of you do!" Castiel gently places both hands on Anri''s shoulders and consoles, "Then milady, explain it to us after the battle and we will listen. Alright?" The veiled woman sighs in resignation and gives a neat bow to the assembled group, "Alright. Everyone, thank you for supporting me." The serving boy runs up to Anri and tugs at her dress, "You remember the plan your Highness?" The woman pats the servant fondly on his head and answers, "You will blind the True Emperor, then I will climb out of this crater right?" Castiel takes up the thread, "Just so milady. Remember, run and hide among the pillars of bone. The Blackguards will rush forwards and try to overrun us once Enma and I begin to use our divine gifts." The Princess frowns, looking at the servant, "What about you? Will you be joining me?" "I need to stay here to keep the True Emperor blinded." the serving boy demurs. "Just get going Anri." Enma pats his chest confidently, "We''ll handle things here." Anri bunches her hands into fists and nods, before giving another bow, this one down to waist height. "Everyone, please stay safe!" Anri says, "Promise that we will meet each other again!" And with that she turns in the opposite direction and runs as fast as she can. ..... Sounds of battle echo from the the crater of Salvation, the noise reaching Anri as she huddles beneath the shadow of the bone towers, the dead bearing silent witness to the battle before them. In the distance, the Princess hears Castiel''s war cry and a lick of greenish flame lashes the column of Blackguards charging forward. The numbers may appear overwhelming, but the gifts of Salvation has evened the odds a great deal. Anri clenches her fists in consternation. Forced to run from the True Emperor again. Will nothing ever change? Even if she survives this battle, what happens next? More running from place to place? Living like a hunted animal? No. Salvation has shown her the truth and given Anri her inheritance. The three worlds was never meant to be ruled by the True Emperor. He was a fake, just like his Blackguards were monsters that masquerade as men. The True Emperor was a mere pretender to the All Father''s throne, ruling when his place was to serve. And it was up to her to cast the Tyrant down. "Enjoying the show?" a gravelly voice asks. As Anri starts in surprise, black clad figures emerge from the heights of the towers of bone, looming over her. The Blackguards draw their bows, aiming squarely at the Princess. Their captain, faceless and dressed in the same style as his men, tuts disapprovingly. "How unobservant." the Blackguard Captain reprimands, "Did you think we would commit all our forces in a single attack? This area was being swept by our scouts. We knew you were hiding here all along." "How?" Anri questions, "The True Emperor has been blinded." The Blackguard Captain blinks at this declaration before answering, "So that is what it was? I have no idea how you cut off our connection to the True Emperor, but we still have our own eyes girl. And we see you, as clear as day." "So what happens now?" the Princess challenges. "Now?" the Captain snorts, "You die obviously. Loose arrows!" And with that command, a storm of arrows in unleashed, darkening the sky. Like a wave, the arrows slash unerringly towards their target, blotting her out of sight. "Job''s done." the Captain grunts, "Signal the rest of the Blackguards to fall back. The abomination''s collaborators can starve to death here for all I care." "Uh, Sir?" a subordinate hesitantly says, "I think we missed." Sure enough, standing in a ring of black feathered arrows is the Princess, glaring defiantly at her enemies, not a mark on her body. The Captain makes an irritated noise before shouting, "Loose! Loose arrows until she is dead!" Volley after volley of arrows are fired at Anri, who stands not moving an inch from her spot. Yet again and again, the arrows miss their mark, falling impotently around her. Before long, the Blackguards exhaust their supplies of ammunition and stare at the Princess in disbelief. "What?" the Captain mutters. "The three worlds belongs to the All Father," the woman declares, "Not to you or your Tyrant." "Rubbish!" the Captain barks, "Blackguards, draw your swords!" The ring of steel against scabbards surrounds Anri, but her eyes do not waver the slightest. "The All Father stood over all from his rightful throne, and I am his only descendant." the Princess declares, "The only pure bloodline that remains out of all the folk your Tyrant crippled. Salvation has awakened my blood and the world recognizes my rightful claim over it." The Blackguards stop in their tracks, unsure what to do next. An uneasy silence settles over the towers of bone. "Nothing born from man nor forged by his hands can bring me harm." Anri declares, "Now come, face me if you dare!" "Show no fear!" the Captain shouts, "For the glory of the True Emperor! Attack!" And so the Blackguards charge into battle, their master blind and unaware of what fate awaited them. Welcoming Party I hustle out of the monorail as it pulls up at the station serving the hub. As my feet hit the platform, the platform''s lights begin shutting down in sequence, forcing me to rush down the still lighted corridor that serves as the hub''s access point. Behind me is the monorail engine''s dying whine as the electricity to the tracks is cut. Emergency lights flicker on, plunging the platform in a harsh red glow, forcing me to squint in annoyance. "Make haste." The Voice rasps, "Fate and her minions have reached the Inclinator. I have shut down the monorail system to secure our rear and prevent us from being flanked." "Cool." I mutter while pushing open the doors to the hub with both hands. As I step into the hub, my boot kicks a metal object with a large clang, causing me to stop in my tracks and look down. The hub could be considered as a fairly spacious area, but now all that empty space has become a distant memory. The facility is filled close to bursting with scissor wolf drones, the machines taking up almost every square inch of real estate, leaving only a narrow path free for me to traverse. The drones have also been stacked high against the walls, all the way up to the hub''s ceiling. The Voice had however left the space in front of the bank of monitors empty, probably so that it could perform a last minute briefing with me. A scuttling noise comes from above me and I see the tail end of a trail of spider drones scurrying into a ventilation duct. "You''re really not playing around, huh?" I comment as I squeeze my way towards the bank of monitors, "Sure you don''t need anymore firepower?" "I have more defenses prepared at the Inclinator atrium." The Voice rumbles without any trace of irony, "Putting them on screen now." The bank of monitors buzz momentarily before showing the atrium for the Inclinator. Built to accommodate incoming vehicles travelling down into the Sarcophagus, the atrium is little more than a wide open area. Once again, The Voice had elected to do a bit of impromptu renovation for the welcome party being prepared for Fate. "Hot damn. You''re going all in on this, aren''t you?" I breathe while taking in the sight. The Voice had built a thick, solid wall across the length of the atrium, cutting off access to the hub. Firing ports had been cut into the wall and automated miniguns had been mounted along its length. Another set of sentry guns have been installed on the atrium''s ceiling and they swivel about freely, scanning the area. Proximity charges are laid across the floor in the space between the Inclinator shaft and the wall. Coils of barbed wire are placed right in front of the wall, rounding off the defenses. "You forgot to add a trench." I joke. "I need you mobile and ready to attend to trouble spots." The Voice comments, missing my sarcasm completely, "A trench would get in the way of that. Now listen closely, I will only have the time to go through the plan once with you." One of the monitors switches to a wire frame representation of the atrium complete with the installed defenses. Red dots, representing the invaders, begin filing out of the Inclinator shaft and the sentry guns begin open fire in a rough representation of space invaders. Red dots explode into eight bit fragments but a number manage to surge forwards and are promptly neutralized by the proximity charges. "As you can see," The Voice begins, "The plan is simple. With only one way into the hub, ORPO will be forced to run the gauntlet I have prepared for them. Unfortunately, the wrinkle lies in the overwhelming numbers ORPO can bring to bear against us." The dribble of red dots on the screen now becomes a flood, pouring in through the Inclinator shaft. The guns can no longer keep up with the increased tempo as more and more red dots slip through the hail of gunfire. The proximity charges blunt this assault but they are quickly exhausted and the red dots begin pushing their way across the wall. At this point, a single black dot spawns on The Voice''s side of the wall and begins dashing into the crowds of red dots, erasing the interlopers with the tiny sword it is swinging about. "Your role is to eliminate any ORPO officers that make it past the prepared defenses." The Voice concludes, "Keep in mind that this scenario is almost a certainty as Fate is guaranteed to be present during the battle as well, forcing me to split my attention. Any questions?" "How does the black dot swing a sword without hands?" I ask in mock innocence. "Actual, serious questions." The Voice sighs over the earpiece. "Alright, here''s one." I grunt, "Why aren''t you deploying your drones in the simulation?" "My drones will be held in reserve." The Voice rasps, "If the rush of ORPO officers becomes too much for you, my drones will provide support as required. However, I want to focus the drones on tying down Fate when it appears. So do not rely overmuch on them."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "Fair enough. Here''s the big question." I continue, "Are drones and miniguns enough to take down a god?" "Do not be ridiculous." The Voice snorts, "Drones and miniguns will certainly not kill a god. You need drones and miniguns to the power of infinity to accomplish that." I blink at this declaration, "Uh, you sure about that? I mean, are you really, absolutely sure about that? Super certain and super cereal?" "Yes." The Voice reassures, "Remember, ants can devour a man alive, as long as there are enough of them. And I have more than enough bullets and drones to put Fate down. Even if my estimates are wrong, I have another infinity''s worth of munitions just waiting in the wings. Fate will regret its foolishness of challenging me directly." "Well, you''re the only authority I know of this subject." I say, reluctantly accepting The Voice''s argument, "So, you really intend to finish things with Fate today?" "Indeed." The Voice asserts, "Fate must be getting desperate. This is most likely a last gasp attempt on its part to swing the conflict in its favor. If Fate wants to serve itself up to me, I would be remiss in not taking the opportunity. I am curious though, how did Fate manage to manifest itself outside of its divine realm?" I raise an eyebrow at The Voice''s answer, "I am assuming that you never expected Fate to actually show up like this then?" "This turn of events took me by surprise." The Voice admits, "Outside of certain components, a god would need an anchor to manifest itself physically in the three worlds." "Certain components?" I repeat back, not quite understanding what The Voice is talking about. "Never mind about that." The Voice hastily rasps, "What I meant was I did not expect a suitable anchor for Fate''s manifestation to actually exist." I narrow my eyes at this sudden lapse in composure of The Voice''s part. It had slipped up, mentioning something that it did not want me to know. And that little morsel did not just apply to Fate. It seemed relevant to gods in general. Meaning what The Voice wants to distract me from somehow applies equally to itself as well. Could it be The Voice''s secret? The mystery that the antique posters and world map were hinting at? No time to press the matter for now, not when the enemy is breathing down our necks. I decide to take the conversation back to safer ground. "I found an empty crate at Matsui''s club." I remark, "The crate''s original destination had been Hobo Beard''s lab. Could the contents have been the anchor you''re talking about?" "Perhaps." The Voice muses, "Though that is really an academic question at this point in time. Look at the monitors, Fate and her minions are about to make their move." I fold my arms and do as suggested, taking in the video feed showing a long line of mechs, trucks and tanks halted in front of the Inclinator above us. Presiding over the lot while perched on top of a tank is a woman dressed in a scarlet evening gown with a veil over her face. "Fate''s body is regenerating fast." I remark, "She barely had any skin while in ORPO HQ and look at her now." Compared to the horror show from before, Fate now looks extraordinarily normal, with the exception of a pair of angel wings growing from her back. Not only has Fate''s skin entirely grown back across her entire body, the angel wings are radiant and full feathered, a far cry from the bony mess that I saw on ORPO''s security cameras. The Voice grunts unhappily at my comment but otherwise holds its peace. I make a mental note that Fate''s power set likely includes accelerated healing or something similar. One of the tanks opens fire with its cannon, blasting apart the Inclinator''s shutters. A few of the ORPO officers look down the shaft, confirming that yes, it has been completely locked down. A pair of mecha proceed to drop down the shaft using their thrusters to investigate further and there''s a sudden loud boom of an explosion coming from above me. "Welcoming gift?" I ask The Voice. "Just a little surprise I left behind." The Voice rumbles, "I had hoped for a larger first wave to be caught in the trap, but at any rate the explosion would have destroyed the Inclinator''s tracks, preventing ORPO from bringing down their infantry and vehicles." Upon hearing the explosion, Fate spreads her wings and plunges down the Inclinator''s shaft as well with several mecha following behind her. The Voice switches the video feed to the blast door camera and we are met with the sight of Fate and the mechas hovering aimlessly in place, unsure as to how to get past the thick slab of nuke rated metal. "A god foiled by a closed door." I chuckle to myself. The screen then shows Fate bending over and tugging away at the blast doors with her hands, her slender body trembling from the exertion. "This is beyond pathetic." I laugh, "Seriously, this is what kicked your ass before?" "Fate left military matters in the hands of her lovers during our previous conflict." The Voice says, "Her current showing may be due to their absence." Just as I am about to fire off another derogatory jab at Fate''s expense, a warning klaxon sounds on the console and one of the monitors displays the status of the blast door. Its an intruder alert. The blast door is slowly, very, very slowly in fact, being forced open. The video feed confirms this as well, Fate having managed to open a thin slit through the door. "Super strength then." I grunt. "No, I do not think so." The Voice murmurs, "From what the hub''s systems are telling me, Fate is exerting a level of force to be expected from an average adult woman. The blast doors should not even be budging. What Fate is doing has to be something else." "Whatever. Doesn''t look unmanageable at any rate." I say while heading out to the atrium, "I should get ready for the battle." I draw the sword and rest the tip on the ground while standing guard just behind the wall with my feet spread apart. Both hands are then clasped on the sword''s pommel and I turn my head downwards with my eyes closed. "Are such dramatics really necessary?" The Voice grumbles. "Oh hush." I scold, "Let me have this moment." I slowly open my good eye and eagerly whisper while squaring my shoulders for a more valiant profile. "Now come at me my enemy." Battle of the Gods "WARNING INTRUDER ALERT." the Sarcophagus''s systems drone over the PA speakers, "INCLINATOR A5 COMPROMISED." I keep my eyes shut and probe outwards with my awareness using matter sense. A rush of ORPO mecha are flooding through the Inclinator shaft. Fate must have succeeded in breaching the blast door. I mentally brace myself while steadying my composure behind the defensive wall built by The Voice. All around me is the whirring noise of the miniguns as they begin spooling up their barrels in preparation to fire. Ready or not, the fight is about to start. "Incoming wave of ORPO mecha." The Voice informs, "Get ready." "Not a problem." I mutter back, both hands tightening their grip on the pommel of my sword. There''s a clattering sound as the ORPO mecha drop a volley of grenades down the shaft, followed by an earsplitting explosion. Too bad the atrium is too wide an area for that tactic to be effective. The defensive wall is far too recessed to be covered by the blast radius of the grenades. The only inconvenience I suffer is a spot of ringing ears which clear up quickly enough thanks to the artificial core. The ORPO mechas land hard with a crash and tossing all caution overboard, bound out of the shaft brandishing their axes. A quick charge into the defenders still reeling from the grenades, standard breach and clear tactics. Normally this would be enough to put the defenders to flight, but as anyone with a brain could figure out by now, this situation is nowhere near the definition of normal. The miniguns open fire simultaneously, and the ORPO mechas unprepared for the freshly installed defenses, run into a solid wall of lead. The guns easily tear through the mechas'' armor, scything through the line with no resistance. The ORPO pilots begin tripping over their fallen colleagues, breaking the momentum of their charge and giving the guns even easier targets to cut down. Panic quickly sets into the unit and they begin a desperate retreat back into the shaft, the guns firing at them all the while. There''s a roar of jets as the remaining mechas blast off back up the Inclinator shaft to safety, leaving behind mounds of wrecked machines lying about the atrium in their wake. "That was a surprisingly easy first wave." I comment, somewhat relieved, "Looks like you invested in overkill for the battle." "Stay on guard." The Voice rasps tensely, "Fate is still hanging about in the Inclinator shaft, no doubt plotting something. Be prepared." I nod and draw a deep breath to calm my nerves. Then I feel a sudden sense of vertigo as an overwhelming surge of power cascades down the shaft towards the atrium. A loud, voiceless scream echoes in the depth of my soul, the pressure forcing me down to my knees. I open my good eye and my vision swims sickeningly, mirroring the churning of my stomach. But just as my sight begins to clear, I see a gigantic thrashing mass of red thread swarm out of the shaft, lunging hungrily towards the defensive wall. "Fate''s coming!" I shout, sweat from my brow soaking the black hood through. "I sense it." The Voice growls, "The real battle is about to start." The pressure around me increases by several magnitudes and an invisible force rushes outwards from the wall to meet the incoming red thread. As the force washes over the red thread, the thread begins to fray and break, disintegrating like so much ash. Nevertheless the wave of crimson rallies, swiftly regenerating from its losses and lashing outwards once again with increased strength. This time the thread dashes aside the invisible force, and attempts to inundate the defenses completely. But the moment the thread reaches the wall, the invisible force flares again, annihilating the encroaching cancer by shredding it apart. And so it goes, the two dueling powers see sawing back and forth, evenly matched. "Hmph. Trying to blind me in my own stronghold." The Voice snorts dismissively, "I have woven the compound that counters Fate''s influence into the wall itself. Fate should really be more original." "Drawing from the same well one too many times huh?" I quip, giving a thumbs up. "Just so." The Voice replies, "Now brace yourself, the cameras show Fate leading the next wave of attackers." As The Voice said, the woman in red lands gently on her feet at the base of the shaft, flapping her snow white wings with authority. Behind her are another pack of ORPO mecha straining at the leash. Fate looks up and even though she is wearing a veil, I somehow know that she is looking directly at me. Fate''s wings are unfurled to their full length and fill the entire atrium with majestic radiance. The mechas behind her drop on to one knee in reverence at the sight of arguable divinity manifesting itself.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. As the light from Fate''s wings shines upon me, a booming noise resounds within the depths of my mind. An unquestionable but incomprehensible order, a directive for me to do something or other. Smirking, I roll my eye and flip Fate the bird in response. "And there''s the psychic attack." I laugh, "As ineffective as ever." A guttural scream comes from the earpiece as all the sentry guns swivel in Fate''s direction and open fire as one, drowning out Fate''s halo with tracers. The goddess is drowned under the hail of lead but with the guns no longer pinning them down, ORPO charges into the fray, eager to avenge themselves upon me. Only to run into the proximity charges laid by The Voice. Explosions rock the atrium, ripping the ORPO mechas into bloody shreds. The pilots once again attempt to retreat, but the metaphysical crimson thread cracks at them like a whip, driving the mechas forward once more. The beleaguered mechas stumble around in confusion, some of them falling victim to the remaining proximity charges. The survivors however manage to rally and instead of blindly rushing at the wall, the mechas fire up their jets and take a soaring leap through the air. "Time for me to shine." I remark, raising the sword and taking aim at the lead mecha. Just as the lead mecha crests the wall, the tip of my sword flicks out, piercing what I assume to be the machine''s cockpit. My guess must have been close enough, as the mecha goes dead immediately, impaled on the sword like a dead weight. A quick pull frees the sword and a broad swing slices apart the next few mecha that are unlucky enough to get within my range. But by now the explosions from the proximity charges have stopped, meaning that the bombs have been completely expended. With the atrium clear of traps, the mechas begin another all out assault against the wall. "Releasing attack drones." The Voice rasps as the doors to the hub burst open to reveal a charging horde of scissor wolves. The drones clash with the ORPO mecha in the middle section of the atrium, with both sides attempting to push forwards. Above the racket of flailing weapons and abused servos, the drones gradually start forcing the mechas back. The rear ranks of the mechas in return begin jetting over the carnage in another attempt to jump over the wall. I pump my legs frantically, rushing back and forth, cutting down the invaders the moment they land. Its all so overwhelming though, almost the entire length of the wall is under attack. ORPO''s numbers are really no joke. "Keep this up, my attack drones are beginning to pen Fate in." The Voice says tersely, "Deploying the spider drones to support you." The atrium''s vents located over my side of the wall burst open and disgorge the spider drones in miniature waterfalls. The robotic spiders begin crawling all over the mechas, attacking the mechas'' sensors and blinding them. As the mechas swat impotently at the spider drones, I bring the sword down on each of the interlopers in turn, ending the nuisance they represent. "Hoo yeah!" I cheer as the last of the ORPO mechas fall, "We are totally wrecking shit right now." "No we are not." The Voice snarls, "Attack drone strength is currently at sixty percent and falling." I peer over the wall and see that the scissor wolves have cleared out the remaining ORPO mechs and are congregated in a tight cluster, most likely surrounding Fate. The sentry guns eliminate the remaining stragglers from the ORPO force as they vainly try to continue this lost battle. "I don''t know." I shoot back, "Things seem to be going well from where I am standing." "Attack drone strength down to thirty percent." The Voice snaps, "Transmigrator, I need you to lend your assistance." As The Voice speaks, the cluster of scissor wolves begin to get thinned out at a frighteningly rapid pace. As the horde becomes increasingly scanty, I am greeted to the sight of Fate clumsily wielding an ax probably taken from a fallen ORPO mecha. Fate makes poorly aimed swings with hardly any force to them, but every blow that strikes home manages to take out a scissor wolf. It does not matter how glancing or superficial the damage is. A single blow is all it takes. The scissor wolves slash at Fate relentlessly with their weapons, but no matter where they strike, all their attacks miss without fail. And Fate does not even seem to be bothering to dodge or otherwise defend herself. Its as if her every movement equates to a guaranteed evade. "Something''s wrong." I tell The Voice. "I can see that." The Voice rasps impatiently, "Useful information please." "Fate''s thread has retracted and formed a sphere around her." I report, "No idea what the thread is doing, but I am willing to bet that its somehow connected to what''s going on right now." The Voice makes an annoyed sound as the scissor wolves fall back. With the lines of sight clear, the sentry guns begin open fire on Fate once more. Hundreds, no thousands of rounds are sent Fate''s way. "Impossible! Impossible!" The Voice roars in frustration, "Fire control is telling me that I should be hitting Fate. Why are all my attacks missing?" I swallow hard as Fate begins to walk calmly towards the wall against the hail of gunfire. The Voice is right, it is a statistical impossibility to miss a target with so many shots been thrown about. An insidious thought takes root in my mind. What if Fate had always intended to throw down directly against The Voice but was prevented from doing so thanks to Naiberg''s sabotage? What if this fight is not some desperate gambit, but something Fate had prepared for a long time ago? "Stop firing." I say, "Let me handle this." The Voice complies and the guns immediately fall silent. I vault over the wall and rush towards Fate with the sword raised high. I dart towards my target like a speeding comet and easily duck under an amateurish swing of Fate''s ax. Both my hands grasp the sword and with a single mighty stroke - - I miss. I miss at point blank range. Against a target that did not even dodge. Impossible. The Voice is right, this is completely impossible. As my mind boggles at the sheer unexpectedness unfolding before me, Fate''s ax makes another wild swing at me and I raise my left arm to block, flaring the artificial core. A biting pain and then blood. Blood everywhere. Blood all over Gallant''s severed arm that splats on to the floor. Greater Than Infinity I''m screwed. I''m totally screwed. I gesture dumbly at Fate with the bloody stump of Gallant''s left arm while my mouth opens and closes like a stunned guppy. There''s no pain coming from the wound, so that''s a plus I suppose. Doesn''t change the fact I''m probably going to die as Fate performs another clumsy swing with her ax towards me. I instinctively slash upwards with the executioner''s sword and succeed in missing Fate by a mile. I''m left wide open. Its over. "Move!" The Voice barks from the earpiece and I am dashed to the side by an oncoming rush of metal. A freshly spawned wave of scissor wolf drones thunder out from the hub and barrel full tilt into Fate. As the drones make their furious but futile assault against the goddess, my mind suddenly begins working again and I scamper back towards the wall, jumping over it and huddling under the relative safety of the shadow of the sentry guns. "Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit." I mutter while staring at the bloody stump while folding my body up into a fetal position. Didn''t The Voice guarantee that Gallant''s body would be invulnerable? Isn''t this experience a bit too extreme and hardcore for an isekai? Tell me when a hero got his limbs amputated when he fought the demon king. I bet no one can answer that question. Because it never happens. Hero man usually has some kind of overpowered skill that curb stomps the demon king or a waifu that''s an ace healer or a battle harem that does all the fighting for him or - "Transmigrator," The Voice rasps from somewhere far away, "I need you to focus. Focus, you understand?" - or a cute goddess in his corner that''s actually useful and has actual magic instead of relying on dumb ass guns and drones and cameras and actually gives their champions good weapons instead of mundane swords and grenade launchers plus actually arranges for a party of individuals with useful skills not like a scuzzy police chief who only knows how to bitch and threaten from the back of a squad car or a fat, flabby coward who whines like nobody''s business and got her husband eaten by lions in a nature park and - "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!" The Voice roars angrily, breaking my reverie. "I''m together! Pulled together!" I shout back over the din of battle, "All together! Together, except for the arm that is." "Good." The Voice continues urgently, "Listen, we can still carry the day, but I need you on your feet and ready to fight. Do you understand?" "Fight? Are you for real?" I ask incredulously, "Neither of us can hurt Fate! We can''t even hit her! We need to evacuate, like now!" "Focus." The Voice insists flatly, "I will not say it again. Whether you live or die depends on what happens next." I take a deep breath as my nerves begin to come down from their previous high. The Voice grunts in satisfaction and continues speaking. "Transmigrator, there is no retreat from this place." The Voice states calmly, "I have shut down the monorail and will not reactivate it until we have prevailed in this battle. The line will be held, do you understand?" "Resorting to threats, huh?" I snort while getting back to my feet, "That''s low, but par for the course as far as you are concerned." "Think of it as an incentive." The Voice answers indifferently, "More importantly, the situation is not as hopeless as it appears. I may not be able to injure Fate, but I have an infinite number of drones and bullets to bury it under. I can keep dueling with Fate until the heat death of the universe." I peer over the wall and watch as Fate begins clearing out this latest batch of drones. Just as she is about to extricate herself from the scrum, the doors of the hub fly open again and another wave of scissor wolves are sent into the fray. Fate might always win each individual fight, but The Voice can afford an infinite number of defeats. Two powers equally matched, neither capable of making headway against the other. "I sense a ''but'' coming." I remark, taking in the grinding fight happening in front of me. "Good to see your senses coming back to you." The Voice rumbles, "I can keep Fate at bay, but this task requires my full attention. I cannot afford any distractions, not until I have worked out a way to get past Fate''s defense." "And a distraction is on its way, I suppose?" I ask rhetorically, adjusting my grip on the sword. Power circulates from the artificial core throughout my body, strengthening me and bolstering my courage. "ORPO paramilitaries are rappelling down the Inclinator shaft as we speak." The Voice informs, "I will turn control of the sentry guns over to the on board AI. Coordinate with it to eliminate the threat." "No problem." I say, more to reassure myself then anything, "I can do this. I will do this." "Excellent. Because the ORPO strike force is almost here." The Voice states before falling silent.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Men and women clad in white uniforms stream out of the Inclinator shaft like a swarm of enraged ants. The sentry guns immediately begin spooling up and unloading their firepower into the invaders. ORPO officers begin to fall, but I notice the difference in the guns'' performances without The Voice''s direct control. The volleys are more hesitant and take place further apart. As if the sentry guns need slightly more time to acquire their targets. The ORPO officers scatter under this onslaught and take cover behind the carcasses of the destroyed mechas, ignoring the battle between Fate and the scissor wolves. The officers then begin pushing the destroyed mechas forward, using them as makeshift pravises. The guns blast away at them and through sheer weight of fire manage to down several of the interlopers, but the kill rate has dropped dramatically. The officers occasionally pop up from behind the mecha carcasses to take pot shots at me with their rifles, forcing me back below the wall. At this rate they are guaranteed to close the gap. "Prepare to repel boarders!" I shout from gritted teeth as the first wave of ORPO officers pile up the mecha carcasses by the barbed wire, using the wrecks to scale the wall. There are some groans and screams as the barbed wire catches a few interlopers, but the wave of invaders keeps coming. The guns keep firing, but they cannot keep up with the numbers pouring through the shaft. Going over the top. Its the term used when soldiers try to storm a trench. Now used to indicate extraordinary effort made in a venture not likely to succeed. And its my job to ensure that the chances of the officers going over the top here drop from ''low'' to ''impossible''. As the paramilitaries crest the wall with their battle cries, my sword starts swinging, and the blood begins spraying. Rifles are fired from point blank range at me and numerous batons pummel my body, but its all no use. ORPO isn''t Fate. Whatever cheat Fate used to hurt me doesn''t extend to them. The more ORPO fights, the more they die. The floor is now slick with blood and my armor is covered in it. Gore has been smeared all over the place. A frantic policewoman draws an automatic pistol and unloads its clip straight into my chest, crying all the while, praying for her goddess to save her. But there''s no salvation to be found. I swing my sword, again and again and again, reducing the policewoman into mincemeat. I can do this, I am forcing them back. Then one of the sentry guns explodes, flying straight out of its firing port. Blinking the smoke out of my eyes, I see a line of ORPO officers readying rocket launchers while hiding behind the small mountains of corpses and wrecked machines strewn throughout the atrium. With a roar, the launchers are fired, sending their payloads streaking towards the wall. I duck and cover, before remembering that I only have one arm to cover with now. The rockets impact the wall, gouging out huge gaps and sending chunks of concrete as well as stray pieces of metal rebar flying all over the place. The paramilitaries begin to reload, confident that their next attack will vaporize the wall completely. "Damavand!" I shout as I thrust the stump of my arm out. A wave of pressure erupts and washes over the atrium, pulping the officers or throwing them backwards. I cheer mentally as the threat is neutralized and ORPO struggles to get back into the fight. Just need to keep cutting them down and The Voice will take care of the rest. Then the red thread slashes outwards again, arcing towards the wall. No way, Fate is still engaged with the attack drones, she can''t redeploy her powers now. My eyes desperately scan the area, landing on an empty spot in the corner of the atrium where this fresh set of red thread is being woven out of empty air. Shit. Celeste. "Transmigrator, what''s happening?" The Voice shouts in alarm, "I am losing my connection to -" The red thread homes in on the gaps in the wall and punches cleanly through, wrapping the entire atrium in its scarlet web. The scissor wolves abruptly lose their ferocity and slump to the ground in stand by mode. Fate taps one of the drones with the tip of her foot, sending the machine flying straight at me. I swing my sword hard, cleaving the drone in two, but this delay is all ORPO needs. The officers bull rush forwards and literally throw their bodies at me. I am sent collapsing to the ground under the weight of the dog pile and the officers beat me mercilessly with their batons while holding my limbs fast. "Hey, hey Princess." Celeste says in her irritatingly cheerful voice, "Did I do good? I did my best just like you told me to!" A booming noise in the back of my mind is the only response, but Celeste seems to understand it just fine, continuing the conversation. "So this is the end of the bad man and Tyrant huh?" she replies, "Wow, its just like those stories about heroes storming the castle of the demon king! Does that mean I''m a hero just like Princess?" No. I''m not going to die here. "Yay!" Celeste cheers, "I think Tensei is nice too you know? Maybe we could get together for real after the Tyrant is dead? I would like that ..." I''m not going to die here! My strength surges and I rise from the ground, throwing off the ORPO officers all over me into the air. I grab a rifle one of them had been carrying and level it at Celeste. "YOU LITTLE SHIT!" I scream and fire a shot straight at the Incarnate. The bullet strikes home and Celeste sinks to her knees, holding her stomach. And in the corner of my eye I see it. Fate flinched and pawed at her own gut the moment Celeste was shot. Before I can make sense of what happened, Fate charges forward with the ax raised high. I swing the stock of the rifle down on to the flat of the ax blade, shattering both weapons in a shower of metal and plastic. I lash out with a roundhouse kick, hoping for a lucky hit, but instead miss again. Fate responds with a gentle push on my shoulder, which sends me clear off my feet and smashing through the doors of the hub. My momentum is hardly abated though and I am sent flying right into the bank of monitors which explodes in a shower of sparks as my body slams against it. I flop on to the floor like a beached whale and before I can struggle back to my feet, the entire bank of monitors, its mounting to the wall damaged by the prior impact, crashes on top of me. I can''t move. My entire body hurts. Is this the end? "I can do it Princess. I can undo the Tyrant''s protection from within." Celeste''s weak, tired voice drifts in from the atrium. There are footsteps and from a gap in the wreckage, I see Celeste enter the hub. She''s holding her bloody stomach and her face has a look of concentration on it. Red thread begins to extend from her body and rapidly spread throughout the hub. There''s a sensation of pressure lifting and I understand what has happened. The Voice, blind and unaware, has had its control over the hub severed. Exactly what it had feared. My vision goes dark. So this is it then. Its the end. Men and Women An anime is screened on the television mounted against the wall of the hospital ward, a bright cheerful adventure put on for the entertainment of viewers. Most of the patients in the ward stare indifferently at the show or doze off in spells of fitful slumber, but a pair of eyes drink in the spectacle with wordless passion. "Fall in the name of justice!" a young man whose hair completely obscures his face screams as he stabs a hooded giant dressed completely in black. With a dying moan, the giant collapses on to the floor and the camera pans out, displaying a completely wrecked throne room. Fires blaze out of control while corpses litter the place, but there remains a figure seated on the throne. Dressed in voluminous robes that obscures it''s features and body line, the figure nevertheless possesses a pair of glowing eyes which glare venomously at the camera. "Your mightiest servant has been defeated Tyrant." an angel knight with resplendent wings marches forward to confront the figure on the throne, "This battle is milady''s victory." "Surrender and make it easy for yourself." a cocky demon man steps up to the side of the knight and taunts their opponent, "Its going to end the same either way." "We may be weak," the faceless man declares as he joins his fellows, "but love and friendship will give us the strength to prevail!" "NEVER." the figure on the throne booms, "I WILL NEVER CONCEDE TO A PACK OF WHELPS AND THEIR MISERABLE PRINCESS." "Do you still not understand the suffering you have caused, Emperor?" a cultured, gentle woman''s voice eloquently cuts the deranged rambling from the Tyrant off. A fourth person, a veiled woman dressed in red joins the three heroes confronting their enemy. Her hands are demurely folded together and she gives a neat, formal bow to the Tyrant stewing in fury on his throne. "Anri!" the demon man shouts in objection, "There''s no need to respect a loser like him!" "Just so milady." agrees the knight, "The Tyrant''s presence merely dirties you. Let us end this quickly." "I do not like war. I never wanted to fight." Anri bunches her hands timidly at a mouth, "If the Emperor sincerely repents, I think everyone can live happily ever after?" "REPENT? REPENT?" the Tyrant roars angrily, "IMPUDENCE! LET US SEE HOW YOU FARE AGAINST MY TRUE FORM!" The Tyrant''s body begins to writhe with furious energy and its body begins to grow in size, splitting the robes apart. The three heroes surround Anri protectively, their weapons at the ready as all the while, a growing shadow begins to loom over them. The background music rises to a crescendo, priming the scene for a massive confrontation. And all of a sudden, the footage stops. "Will the shadow plunge the land into eternal darkness?" the show''s narrator rhetorically asks, "Or will love and justice prevail? Find out in the concluding episode of -" "Why are you watching this rubbish, girl?" Gustav von Amsterg asks the only person in the ward paying attention to the show, "You know how the story ends." Celeste pouts in annoyance, irritated by Gustav''s jab at her and the show''s cliffhanger. She nevertheless smooths out her expression and turns to answer Gustav''s question seriously. "Its the journey, not the destination Uncle Gustav." Celeste says with a happy smile, "I know how the story ends, everybody does. But good beating evil is a story always worth telling." Gustav simply shakes his head with a bemused smile at this familiarity the girl shows towards him. Since when did he allow Celeste to refer to him as her uncle? Gustav thinks back but once again cannot really remember. The only thing Gustav is certain about is that he must have allowed it, otherwise the girl would not be addressing him in this manner. Right? Right. "Anyway, you are in a remarkably good mood for someone who has been shot." Gustav continues, "I heard that ORPO is calling you a hero for helping them in a mission?" "Mhm! Yes!" Celeste answers cheerfully, "I helped out in finding where the bad man who wrecked Tensei''s wedding had been hiding. Did Uncle know that the bad man had an entire organization behind him? ORPO managed to take it all down."The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "Entire organization?" Gustav repeats with an eyebrow raised. "The bad man had an underground base, complete with guns and explosives and everything." Celeste replies, "The former Commander of ORPO was also working with the bad man. But from now on everything is going be be OK!" "You were very brave to go up against such dangerous people, Celeste." Gustav quietly says while chewing on his lip. Celeste frowns, "It was scary, all the fighting and getting shot, but I knew that I was doing the right thing, so I just did it." Gustav squeezes the girl''s shoulder with a solemn expression on his face, remarking, "Well the least you could ask for would be a private ward at the hospital." "I didn''t want to cause trouble for anyone." Celeste explains, "Lots of ORPO officers helped out too and got themselves hurt. They are the real heroes, not me." "How sensible." Gustav murmurs admiringly before letting out a long sigh as his mind drifts to his children, Rose and Nicholas. And Tensei. Was it the right thing to back Tensei''s claim over the von Amsterg territory? Nicholas may have been a less than desirable heir, but backing Tensei had opened a rift within Gustav''s own family. And worst still, there was a real possibility that Gustav would lose Nicholas as a son for real. Tensei had beaten Nicholas within an inch of his life during their last confrontation. If what Marshal St Clair had told Gustav was true, Nicholas is now bedridden from his injuries and battling for survival. And all Rose can think about these days is Tensei and how to support him. She spends every waking hour with Tensei, helping him to prepare for the contest. No matter how this matter is resolved, Gustav had already lost both his children and would very likely lose his kingdom as well. How in the world could things degenerate to this level? Could the contest be called off? No. Things had already progressed too far for that. A sudden thought shakes Gustav to the core. The very real possibility of Nicholas dying in the dueling arena. Killed by either Tensei or his own sister. But whose fault would it really be? Nicholas was forced into this situation by Gustav. A father literally sentencing his own son to death. "Is there a way out for me?" Gustav murmurs to himself. "Hey, hey. Uncle Gustav, is anything wrong?" Celeste asks, "If you share it maybe we can think of a solution together?" Should he burden this girl with his problems? Celeste may be surprisingly mature for her age, however a conundrum of this scale is something that is far outside of her league. But time is running out for Nicholas. If Gustav is going to save him, action needs to be taken soon. Before the window of opportunity closes completely. And there''s no harm in having a conversation, right? .............. A man and woman trudge down the deactivated monorail line of the Sarcophagus, wheeling a large trolley. The pair keep moving in complete silence as the wheels of the trolley squeak in protest, the noise echoing down the deserted tunnel. Sweat gathers on the brow of the man who impatiently wipes it away with his sleeve. "Where in the world did you get this bloody coffin, Alley?" the man wheezes as he finally loses his patience, gesticulating at the black coffin loaded on the trolley. "I told you already," Alley grumbles back to Hernandez, "The coffin and the trolley was in the apartment at the Academy. I came back from work one day and found them there, with the instructions on where to find you and what we need to do." "I am the Commander of ORPO damn it!" Hernandez complains in his hoarse voice, "I shouldn''t be forced to hide in the sewer, or to work like a laborer. That escape route our mutual friend gave me was a load of bullshit." "I''m smelling shit alright." Alley sniffs with a disgusted expression on her face. Sure enough, Hernandez''s clothes are stained all over with various unmentionable substances. "You''re feeling pretty frisky today Alley." Hernandez scowls, "Not afraid of being hauled back in for questioning?" "By The City''s most wanted? Please." Alley rolls her eyes at Hernandez''s posturing. Hernandez on his part visibly deflates at the reminder of his situation. "I better be getting a plane ticket out of this." Hernandez grumbles, "Better yet, an actual getaway plane. I heard that retiring in Panama IV is nice." Alley merely shrugs in silence and keeps pushing the trolley forward until the duo reach a darkened monorail station. "This is it. The Hub." Alleys says, "We need to bring the coffin to the control room." "What are we going to do with a coffin there?" Hernandez asks as he wrangles the trolley up a flight of stairs. "The instructions said it should be obvious." Alley responds, "Guess we will see when we arrive at the control room." The trolley is pushed into the control room and the pair take in the wreckage surrounding them. Hernandez and Alley being picking through what remains, clearing out the garbage and searching for whatever they came here for. "Here, help me with these monitors." Alley says to Hernandez as she begins attacking a tower of shattered monitors located in the corner of the control room. Hernandez nods wordlessly and the duo continue working in silence. The monitors are cleared away and the tag team stare at what, or rather who, had been buried underneath. "Well, well." Hernandez whistles, "So its the end of the road for Gallant." "Look at his body." Alley whispers, "Is he alive?" "No arm, no breathing and no heartbeat." Hernandez shoots back after a cursory check of the corpse, "Looks like we found who the coffin was meant for." "Get him in the coffin quickly." Alley urges, "According to the instructions, the ORPO patrol should be returning here in around twenty minutes." With Alley grabbing Gallant by the legs and Hernandez holding by the armpits, they swiftly toss the corpse into the coffin and quickly seal it shut once more. The coffin is then secured on to the trolley and pushed back towards the monorail line. squeaking as it goes. Squeaking as it disappears into the darkness. Pieces of Infinity An eternity, spent spinning through the universe, waltzing among the stars. An endlessness of darkness, spreading beyond a beckoning event horizon. A path made out of puke. My puke. And among all of this, for the first time in a long while, I can see my own body again. I am back at the Crossroads of Reality, my body lashed tightly by razor wire to a slowly orbiting star. All around me are fragments of frayed red threads drifting off into the void. But there is enough thread remaining that keeps pulling the stars about in their endless dance. But the razor wire that binds me extends not only around the star I have been tied to, but across large sections of space as well, cutting off the red thread''s access. The neatly organized movements of the dance between the stars has lost its majesty, reduced to a cramped shuffle as the red thread avoids trespassing into the sections claimed by the razor wire. The Voice''s influence over this dimension has grown, but its nowhere near being able to oust Fate. Fate is still the one orchestrating the play between the living. Her power is weakened, fenced in, but still wielding real and terrible influence. As Gallant is experiencing right now. Tendrils of red thread grasp the star I have been tied to, constantly regenerating as the razor wire slashes away at them. As the tendrils strengthen their grip, the star of Gallant''s life begins to crack and the light within it slowly fades. The bound loops of razor wire around my body loosen as the star crumbles away and a cosmic wind begins to pull at me, trying to drag my body towards the event horizon. Gallant is dying. And as he dies, The Voice''s claim over me weakens as well. As Fate constantly sends fresh tendrils to assault Gallant''s star, I realize that unlike my first visit to the Crossroads, there will be no last minute rescues this time. The razor wire can''t beat back the encroaching red thread. Fate is clearly bending all her attention in ensuring that Gallant has been finished off. And without the protection of Gallant''s star, I will be thrown across the void thanks to the summons by my dimension''s administrator. Where Fate will be waiting. The Voice had told me that the horizon represented the border between dimensions. Could I outrun Fate before she managed to kill me? The eagerly swarming morass of red thread hovering around me puts any optimistic assumptions I had to rest. People back home like to say that you never know something until you try, but in this case, I can make a fairly good guess about the outcome. There''s a loud cracking noise as a huge chunk of Gallant''s star completely disintegrates, causing the wire binding my body to unravel. I lurch forwards and dig my hands into the craters that pit the star''s surface, halting my descent. The force of the cosmic wind is quickly becoming irresistible. It takes all my strength to hang on to the remnants of the star as the wind churns up the collapsed fragments, forming a drifting cloud of stardust. As I hang on for dear life, the cloud forms an image before my blankly staring eyes. A figure dressed in black, sent flying straight into a bank of monitors. The last moments of Gallant''s life, being played in encore. Then the image is gone as the cloud disperses into the black void. Fate''s tendrils form malicious roots, drilling into what is left of Gallant''s star, tearing fissures into its surface. The already dimming light of the star begins to gutter and flicker intermittently. I feel the rocky surface I am clinging on degrades into porous sand. The razor wire that had tried and failed to deter the crimson thread unspools chaotically, twisting away in disorganized loops. There''s a loud pop, like a light bulb had reached the end of its rope. And the remnants of Gallant''s star explodes into a cloud of powder. As I drift aimlessly within the morass, small embers flit defiantly about me but the message is clear. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Gallant is dead. The tendrils draw themselves up, fresh from their victory and eagerly turn towards me. I have no choice now. I have to gamble that my dimension''s administrator can retrieve me quickly enough. Casting myself upon the cosmic wind, I hurtle across the Crossroads in the direction of the horizon. As the wind whistles in my ear, a sharp pain erupts in my hands, forcing me to look away from the wave of red thread following in close pursuit. Lifting my hands, I find several rapidly cooling embers buried deep in my palms. Gallant''s soul fragment. Now that he is dead, the soul fragments are losing their strength as well. But if the fire within the fragments are going out, where is this pain coming from? I grit my teeth as the pain intensifies, as if someone is stabbing me hard in the palms. "AUUGH!" I scream in agony and horror as the fragments tear into my hands and tunnel into my body. I feel each single piece, travelling up my arms, circulating inside me like overgrown germs making themselves at home. My body becomes heavy, clumsy, my insides churning about thanks to the migrating soul fragments. Is there no end to the bond between me and Gallant? Was even his death not enough to separate us? The crimson tendrils lunge forward, outpacing the cosmic wind and close in hungrily. I flap my arms in a futile effort to get a bit more speed, but the red closes in from all sides. Then I hear it, echoing from across the distance. INFINITY. A voice booms all around me. THE PRIVILEGE OF GODS. Its not a voice. Its The Voice. A MORTAL MARKED BY US WILL ALWAYS BEAR THE MARK UPON ITSELF. Pain. Blazing nodes of pain erupt from within my body, emanating outwards from the invading soul fragments. I scream. I scream and scream and scream and scream - MR GALLANT WAS MARKED BY FATE BEFORE HE DIED. EVEN DEATH WILL NOT REMOVE FATE''S DISPLEASURE AT HIM. - and scream as my left eye goes blind and my upper left arm begins to dissolve into formless mist and as the red thread swallows me whole - AS YOU SOUGHT SHELTER WITHIN MR GALLANT''S SOUL BEFORE, YOU NOW BEAR THE BURDEN OF CARRYING HIS LAST BREATH. A LAST BREATH THAT POSSESSES A PIECE OF INFINITY WITH IT. I flail about desperately, breaking the red threads that seek to envelop me, but the unending tide cannot be stopped. I am drowning, drowning - FATE HAS ANNULLED MR GALLANT''S PLACE IN THIS DIMENSION. THE BULK OF HIS SOUL HAS SCATTERED, IMPOSSIBLE TO EVER REFORM. THE MINUTE, INFINITE REMNANT WITHIN YOU IS ALL THAT IS LEFT. - drowning as the red thread forces its way through my mouth, my nose, the stump of my arm - A BODY WITHOUT A NATIVE SOUL IS A DEAD THING. Cold lances throughout my body. I can''t think, can''t feel. All I can do is wait for the end - A MACHINE, AWAITING REACTIVATION. A sudden blaze of fire erupts from deep within my chest and surges like a conflagration, purging the red threads that were choking me. I blink my eyes and see a volcano of spiritual energy forming in my chest. The waves of spirit energy rush through my veins, linking up with Gallant''s shards. In the interplay between the two forces, I see that each of Gallant''s shards has a small trace of red lint on them. A lingering trace of Fate, the wounds Gallant''s body had suffered at her hands. THE MARK OF FATE WILL GUIDE YOU BACK TO THIS WORLD. THE PIECE OF MY DIVINITY YOU ACCEPTED WILL SERVE AS THE ANCHOR. My entire body plunges downwards, away from the furiously thrashing red thread, away from the path of puke, into the slumbering depths of the great beyond. But the only thing I feel is the untrustworthy heat from the artificial core as it burns away all other sensations. A suffocating darkness embraces me. NO LONGER WILL YOU HIDE BEHIND THE IDENTITY OF ANOTHER. I lash out with my remaining fist against the darkness and it meets with unexpected resistance. There''s a splintering sound and light filters through a tiny gap that appears before me. YOU WILL EXALT IN THE GLORY OF THE INANIMATE. PURE MATTER, UNSTAINED BY LIFE. A MACHINE, REFINED TO ITS MOST FUNDAMENTAL PURPOSE. I strike at the darkness again, this time with both my fist and feet, causing the gap to widen. There''s the distant noise of a quarrel coming through the ever widening gap. SO AWAKEN, TRANSMIGRATOR. One last effort. I throw my entire weight against the darkness and it splits apart completely, blinding me with the sudden illumination. There are screams from all around me. Screams of fear, despair and total incomprehension. My feet step firmly on the ground. But my heart is still. Neither do my lungs draw breath. I walk forwards with one and a half arms spread wide. Welcoming the world. Ready to perform my function. Happy Family "Prince." Yvonne St Clair remarks flatly as Gustav climbs aboard her private yacht, the Standart, from the speedboat that carried him here. The Marshal of the Legion then lifts her frilly gown by barely an inch, performing a polite but cold curtsy as Gustav approaches her, the sea breeze tossing his neatly groomed hair about. "Marshal." Gustav replies before an awkward silence settles between the duo. Their bodyguards stand stock still, nerves wound up thanks to the tension that permeates the atmosphere. Just as St Clair is about to speak again, Gustav breaks the ice first. "May we speak in private?" Gustav says. St Clair narrows her eyes for a brief moment then shrugs at the request. She leads the group down the halls of the Standart, before opening the doors to a well appointed conference room. St Clair makes a vague gesture at the leather seats that surround the mahogany long table before pointedly taking her place at its head. Gustav nods to his bodyguards and they bow respectfully before leaving the room. A quick glance to St Clair elicits a curious look from the Marshal before she dismisses her own entourage. "We are alone now." St Clair speaks with an eyebrow raised, "So get on with it." "I need your help Marshal." Gustav begins but is cut off by a derisive snort from St Clair. The Marshal raises a hand up to stall any objections from Gustav as she begins to rise from her seat, clearly not interested in anything the Prince of Europe has to say. Cold sweat breaks out from Gustav''s brow. He needs St Clair to listen. He needs St Clair to help save his son. "Nicholas is going to die." Gustav blurts out in a desperate rush, "Tensei will kill him in the duel." St Clair settles back into her chair in an angry frown, "And whose fault is that? This duel was your idea Prince." "I know. I know." Gustav mutters wipes his face with a wrinkled, well used handkerchief, "That is why I need your help Marshal. I have to save Nicholas. I must save him." St Clair barks harshly and points at the Prince, "Just cancel the duel. What''s so difficult about that?" "I can''t!" Gustav explodes angrily, "The Host and P5 won''t let me! My hands are tied!" St Clair leans back in her seat, stunned at Gustav''s sudden loss of composure. The Prince takes a deep breath before managing to continue. "You can help save Nicholas. I know you can." Gustav whispers imploringly. St Clair nods, now solemn, eager to hear the man out. "How can I do that?" she asks. "All your remaining troops." Gustav grits his teeth and answers, "Give them to me." As St Clair stares disbelievingly at Gustav upon hearing this outlandish request, Gustav flushes in embarrassment and presses on. "And I need you to help subdue the Narancha and its battle group." Gustav concludes, "If you do this, Nicholas will be saved." "The Narancha." St Clair says slowly, dragging the words out, "The P5''s aircraft carrier? That Narancha?" "The very same." Gustav confirms, looking the vampire straight in the eye. "Are you out of your mind?" St Clair explodes in rage, "Is this some kind of joke? How would doing any of this save Nicholas?" "I was told you could help." Gustav starts looking down in confusion, "That this was the way to help Nicholas." "You''re insane." St Clair sneers, "Leave. Now." Gustav then slowly reaches into his coat and St Clair instinctively tenses, alert for a possible attack. But Gustav does not draw a weapon. Instead, his hand carries a doll. A doll of a woman wearing a red veil. Gustav hesitantly places the doll on to the table and pushes it towards the Marshal, all the while looking at her expectantly. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. "This should mean something right?" Gustav asks hopefully, praying with all his heart that he had not been sent on a fool''s errand. St Clair meditatively fidgets with the doll, her face drawn into a guarded look. "I promise nothing." St Clair grunts, but a large part of her hostility has evaporated, "And your request is completely impossible to perform. I am not strong enough to subdue the Narancha and its escorts by myself. Even with all the troops I have left, it can''t be done." Gustav perks up, realizing that St Clair has decided to at least hear what he has to say. He continues the conversation with more confidence, seeking to persuade the Marshal at this critical juncture. "I will be there as well Marshal, with all my staff." the Prince asserts, "And the Matsui clan has agreed to help as well. There will be no shortage of men to take part in the attack." "Hnh." St Clair makes a non-committal sound and continues to ruminate deep in her private thoughts. Her fingers idly play with one of the ribbons on her dress as the minutes tick by in pregnant silence. Finally St Clair speaks, having made up her mind. "I need to think about this." the Marshal says evasively, her eyes darting back and forth, filled with unease. Delay. Delay is the best option when confronted with something completely beyond expectations. "There''s no time Marshal!" Gustav shouts urgently, "We only have a narrow window of opportunity to act, we cannot lose it!" "Well, yes." St Clair concedes unhappily, "But then again, I need to prepare for the duel and care for Nicholas as well. What you''re asking puts all that at risk." "Marshal!" the Prince objects at the top of his lungs. "After all this is all your fault Prince." St Clair continues rambling, "I do not think it is fair for you to pressure me into action when the crisis was brought about by yourself. I will however consider what you have said and - " A crushing despair fills Gustav''s entire soul. Events are playing out just as Celeste had predicted. And if Celeste was correct about the Marshal, then only one thing would be able to persuade her to provide assistance. The lone card that Gustav had refused to put on the table. To save Nicholas, the Prince of Europe would have to sacrifice him. To keep Nicholas alive, Gustav had to be willing to lose his son forever. "You prayed for a miracle." Gustav interrupts St Clair as she begins her canned speech to see the Prince off. St Clair stops dead, her face expressionless with shock. "This is your chance." Gustav continues, his voice ragged with emotion, "The miracle you wanted has been granted. All you need to do is say yes." An eager, hungry look crosses St Clair''s face before she smooths out her features. Her tiny body leans forward, yet the Marshal''s presence is absolutely overwhelming. "Are you sure?" St Clair whispers, "You do know what you are saying?" A sullen nod from Gustav is all the confirmation she needs. The Marshal draws herself up to her full, albeit tiny, height and snaps her fingers, summoning her staff and Gustav''s bodyguards into the conference room. "Come." St Clair announces without preamble and the group heads towards the infirmary of the ship. "So this is how it has to be." Gustav muses sadly, but the Marshal pays him no heed, her attention fully consumed by building expectation. The group walks through the ship without incident, the crew giving crisp salutes as St Clair hurries past. A nurse emerges from the bowels of the Standart and deferentially ushers St Clair towards her destination. Gustav covers his nose as he steps into the infirmary, the smell of medicine overpowering. But St Clair pays the stench no heed and crosses the infirmary with purposeful strides, towards a corner of the room screened off by a privacy curtain. Impatiently pushing the nurse aside, the Marshal pulls away the privacy curtain in a single motion, revealing the sole patient in the infirmary. Most of the patient''s body is covered in bandages, but the man''s identity is clear for everyone to see. Nicholas von Amsterg. "Nicholas." Gustav timidly approaches, his face lined with shame. But the heir of the von Amsterg family is dead to the world, sedated to accelerate the healing process. "He''s not your son anymore." St Clair snarls as she roughly pulls the Prince back. As Gustav stumbles and is steadied by his bodyguards, St Clair''s fingernails grow to resemble claws. With a flick, the Marshal opens up her wrist, letting a trickle of blood flow. She then pinches Nicholas''s nose shut and as the man begins to gasp for air on the bed, St Clair shoves her wrist into his mouth, forcing Nicholas to drink her blood. Nicholas''s body begins to twitch before escalating to full blown spasms as the disease in St Clair''s blood extends its grip over him. But St Clair does not relent, and forces Nicholas to drink more and more, even as ugly veins stained black begin to grow visible just beneath the skin of his face. "Marshal, that''s enough!" Gustav protests, but St Clair ignores him completely and keeps feeding Nicholas her blood. Gradually, Nicholas begins to quieten down and the spasms stop. His face is drawn and weak, but the veins have faded back under the surface of his skin. St Clair tenderly strokes the man''s hair and kisses his forehead. "Such a brave boy." the Marshal coos, "A rapid transformation isn''t easy, but you managed it. You will become a full vampire, I know it." "So that''s it then." Gustav thinks to himself as he slumps dejectedly out of the infirmary. He had saved his son. But lost Nicholas all the same. As the Prince makes his way to the ship''s deck and stares off into the dark, turgid depths of the sea, he hears St Clair''s affectionate, triumphant voice in the distance. "Mummy will always love you, my son." The Final Round "Welcome back Transmigrator." The Voice''s signature rasp greets me as I tumble across the floor. Groaning in annoyance I begin picking myself back up, noting the scattered chunks of wood all over the place. And the large shattered coffin that I most likely punched my way out of. What in the world happened? Where am I now anyway? Am I still trapped in the hub? "I had you retrieved to the Academy''s apartment for repairs." The Voice explains, "I had also taken the opportunity to prepare a fresh set of clothes for you. Some gratitude might be in order." As I pick a few stray splinters out of my clothes, I note that all the blood and grime has been cleaned up. The black trench coat is absolutely pristine, as if it was fresh from the tailor. The left sleeve has been folded up and neatly sewn shut, preventing it from flopping about now that I am short of an arm. The stuffy black hood is gone, and now I am wearing an eye patch over the non-functioning left eye. Overall, its an improvement in my circumstances. Wait. I can actually see my body. This is the first time ever since I transmigrated that this actually happened. I wave my remaining arm about in front of my face. One arm, check. There''s none of that odd blind spot that manifests whenever I am supposed to see myself. My eye traces the shape of the arm and focuses down to the fibers of the coat. As excitement bubbles within me, I am about to ask The Voice about what is going on before I realize something else. My heart is not beating. Neither am I breathing. In fact, there is zero involuntary action on my part. No random swaying, playing with my fingers and so on. If I am not making a conscious effort to move, my body is effectively as still as a statue. "So yes, you are dead." The Voice rumbles, "Or rather Mr Gallant is dead. I was being completely serious when summoning you just now." Dead. That one word blasts my mind into fragments. No way. If Gallant is dead what does that make me? How would it actually affect my future? Could I even return home like this? In my mounting panic I begin ramping up the artificial core''s output. Could the core drive off a case of death? It''d better, it''s the only solution I got left. As the core''s power circulates through Gallant''s cold, unfeeling body, I hear a pair of groans coming from the corner of the room. "You may want to retract your presence, Transmigrator." The Voice drolly comments, "Without the mitigating effect of Mr Gallant''s soul, the natives will experience the full impact of your alien nature. And I would rather our trusty assistants remain useful instead of being consigned to a lunatic asylum." I quickly tamp down on the core''s output and investigate where the groaning noises are coming from. And right at the partition between the apartment''s living area and the kitchen are Alley and Hernandez, sprawled across the floor while foaming in their mouths. Their breathing is shallow and rapid, but swiftly quietens down as they drift off into a deep sleep. "Will Alley and Hernandez be alright?" I ask. Not that I cared, but it would be a dick move to drive them to madness after they had rescued me from the Sarcophagus. "I have sedated them." The Voice grunts, "They can recover in peace while we have our conversation." I pull out a chair and slouch on to it, stretching my remaining limbs. "How long was I, well, dead?" I ask, reflecting how odd it is not to be even able to instinctive twitch. The Voice laughs, "You are still dead, Transmigrator." "You know what I mean." I huff. "Close to a month." The Voice answers, "I had been working day and night to repair the body in preparation for your summoning. It was close, but I managed to do it just in time for your next deployment." "Next deployment?" I jump from the chair, completely startled, "We just got our asses beat and you want me to go back out there? Anyway, how are we talking in the first place? My last memory was of Fate thrashing the hub." "I had taken over a transmission base station before our defeat." The Voice explains, "This is not my first conflict, nor is it the first defeat I have tasted. Experience teaches one how to prepare and bounce back from such things." "Fair enough." I retort, "But unless you have really upgraded this body, I don''t think my next mission is going to end on a much happier note." The Voice hums briefly before saying, "If you are worried about Fate, do not be. While I cannot sense its presence, analysis of the Crossroads definitively proves that Fate has left the boundary of The City. The Incarnate may still be active and blinding my sight, but she is a far easier proposition to handle than a god. Do you not agree?"This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. "I suppose." I grumble, "Where did Fate go then?" "I have no idea." The Voice smirks over the earpiece, "No doubt our battle has expended much of Fate''s strength and it has retreated to lick its wounds as well as savor recapturing the codex from the hub. Whatever the case, your mission will have nothing to do with Fate itself." "What!" I scream in horror, "The codex is back in Fate''s hands? We are all back on the doom clock?" "Stop over reacting." The Voice gently reprimands, "The codex by itself is completely worthless without the required supporting infrastructure. We are safe for the time being." "Want me to stop over reacting? Then stop trolling." I grumble unhappily. I hear the laptop on the table begin booting up and my gaze shifts towards it. After a few seconds, a picture of a fight night poster pops up onscreen, reminding me of those old boxing adverts touts would plaster all over the neighborhood whenever the local gym was hosting a bout. The picture shows Hero man and Brocon posing next to each other on one side while glaring defiantly at Nicky and Loli Vampire who take up the opposite end of the poster. ''BATTLE FOR EUROPE - TAG TEAM ACTION! TENSEI & ROSE VON AMSTERG VS YVONNE & NICHOLAS ST CLAIR CITY INTERNATIONAL STADIUM SEATS FROM 200 NU-CREDITS!! "Nicky doesn''t look well from this picture." I observe, "In fact he looks as if he has one foot in the grave." That''s no exaggeration. Nicky''s eyes are completely bloodshot and his face is as white as a sheet. Nicky looks like he might drop dead from anemia at any moment. The Hero must have completely wrecked his shit during the running battle at the wedding. "Nicholas has been adopted by Marshal St Clair." The Voice rasps, "Not only has he taken the St Clair name, Nicholas has also acquired other benefits from the association." "Don''t tell me ..." I snap, expecting the worst from this revelation. "Vampirism." The Voice confirms, "Marshal St Clair has turned Nicholas into a vampire. This has not only allowed him to make a complete recovery, but also vastly increased Nicholas''s fighting strength. My initial estimates of the Hero''s chances are no longer valid." "Damn it." I swear, "Its always something." The Voice continues, ignoring my cursing, "The Hero and Heroine Von Amsterg are currently slightly stronger than Marshal St Clair and Nicholas. However, as vampires they have one crucial advantage. They heal quickly and will never tire. If the Hero''s team cannot end the fight quickly then -" "Then they''re screwed." I conclude, "Yeah, I see the picture. The St Clairs are the problem you need me to resolve then?" "Indeed." The Voice states, "Sabotaging the St Clairs or otherwise weakening them before the contest would be the optimal course of action. From my connection with ORPO''s systems, I have noted several possible avenues of attack for you to use." "Wait. Wait." I stop The Voice from talking further, "How am I going to evade ORPO anyway while going about the mission? And are you sure Fate is gone from the picture?" "Yes Transmigrator, I am very sure Fate is gone from The City." The Voice sighs, "As for ORPO, they have become quiet recently, with only a skeleton staff on duty. Carrying out your mission under these circumstances will hardly be a challenge for you." "Where did ORPO go anyway?" I ask, my curiosity piqued. "No idea." The Voice shrugs verbally, "At any rate they are of little concern now. Focus on what is important." "No." I insist, "You said you''re connected to ORPO''s system right? Call up their records. It will show why they''ve suddenly gone missing." "Very well. If that will satisfy you." The Voice condescendingly states as the laptop''s screen switches to a window packed with folders organized by date. I ignore The Voice''s sass and begin going through ORPO''s records. Its nothing but patrol reports, crime statistics, boring police stuff. I merely scan through the headings for most of the documents to save time, but then my eyes catch something that''s anything other than regular police business. "Did you know about the attack on the P5 aircraft carrier two weeks ago?" I ask The Voice. "No." The Voice says, "I have been blinded, remember? How is that relevant to our situation at any rate?" Attack on the Narancha. Gustav, the Legion and the Matsui clan swarmed the carrier battle group while the P5 sailors were distracted by Loli Vampire pummeling their ships with her magic. And ORPO sat in the background and watched the whole thing. Something''s wrong here. Matsui is now in Fate''s pocket, meaning that if he''s involved, Fate''s hand has got to be somewhere in the background. I quickly click open the next report. This one''s a requisition form asking for the deployment of all ORPO patrol vessels and the seizure of several civilian steamers as well. And not for the purpose of taking back the carrier from the mismatched attackers. From the proposal attached, it seems that ORPO intends to use these ships to sail along with the carrier group? A bad feeling wells up in my still heart. Next report. This one was filed by the ORPO coastguard. They escorted the carrier group out of The City''s jurisdiction before turning back to port. And the last bearing the Narancha was seen heading off in? "Can you see anything beyond the boundary of The City?" I urgently ask The Voice. "Of course." comes the reply from The Voice. "Track the Narancha. Where is it now?" I press, praying that my suspicions are for naught. A moment of silence before The Voice responds, this time completely befuddled, "I cannot see the Narancha. That ship simply does not exist." "That means either Fate or Celeste is on board, correct?" I quiz, tension racking my nerves. "Most probably." The Voice concedes softly. "The Narancha was last seen heading South." I tell The Voice. "I fail to see -" The Voice begins but I have no patience for its tricks. Not when things have become so serious. "South. Towards the missing continent." I bark, "Know anything about that?" "What missing continent?" The Voice responds in mock innocence. "X22344 Y72717." I snap, recalling the coordinates on the ancient map. A long silence. And then The Voice speaks once more, "Very well then. No more lies Transmigrator." "It is time for truth between us." The Truth The Voice sucks in its breath for a moment before continuing through the earpiece, "Transmigrator, do you remember why the codex is so important?" "Uh, it can drop dimensional barriers?" I reply after thinking for a bit, "I remember you saying that the codex could open the way to divine realms? Something like that at least." "Yes, that is correct, but also an over simplification." The Voice answers, "I had never explained to you how the codex accomplishes this. You see, while the codex''s is capable of serving as a means of fast travel, that is not its core function." "Core function?" I furrow my brows, "You''re saying that blasting a path through a dimensional barrier is a side effect of what the codex really does?" "Indeed." The Voice rasps, "The codex in truth is a containment facility. It holds a null field within itself." "Null field?" I repeat as my mind does a somersault, "Containment? Try slowing down for a moment?" "This matter might require a bit of background and time is short." The Voice rumbles, "A question then, to gauge your level of understanding. What is the shortest possible distance between two objects?" "A straight line, duh." I roll my eyes, "I did go to school you know. And college." "Then your education was wasted." The Voice says, "The shortest possible distance between two objects is zero." "That''s a trick question." I snort, "If it was zero, then there would not be a need for a fast travel device at all." "That is where you are wrong." The Voice elaborates, "The codex does not actually overcome the barriers or distance between its wielder and the desired destination. Rather, the mountain moves towards the man instead." I settle back into my seat and spend the next few seconds reflecting. Could such a thing be possible? Its sounds ass backwards, like putting the cart in front of the horse. The Voice carries on with its explanation, "The key to this phenomenon is the null field. The codex projects the null field towards the edge of the designated destination. Anything caught within the null field will be swallowed into a pocket dimension, "nulled" so to speak from the present dimension. This allows the distance between two points to become zero as long as the null field is deployed." "No way. What about the nulled space?" I ask, mouth agape, "Everything swallowed by the null field is gone, just like that?" "Of course not." The Voice refutes, "The intervening distance is held in the null field until the codex''s wielder reaches his destination. Then the codex retracts itself, causing the field to collapse and the nulled area to return to real space once again." "Fold space theory. That''s what you''re talking about isn''t it?" I challenge. "Is that what the phenomenon is referred to in your dimension?" The Voice queries, "If so then yes, that is indeed what I am referring to." "That''s impossible." I snort, "Back home, fold space theory was thrown about as a theoretical means of faster than light travel. This world is nowhere advanced enough to make fold space practical. Unless you''re saying that the codex was dropped by aliens from their spaceship, all your assumptions about the codex are rubbish." A long, awkward silence is the only thing that greets my rebuttal. "Oh my god!" I shout, face palming, "Are you seriously telling me that aliens are involved here?" "If you would stop getting worked up needlessly," The Voice grumbles, "then I would have been able to inform you that the Precursor civilization which manufactured the codex was not native to the three worlds."Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. "The Precursors are aliens." I say slowly, "The same Precursors that humans, angels and demons descended from? Those Precursors?" "Yes." The Voice says in a completely level tone without the slightest trace of sarcasm or mockery. "Aliens. Aliens." I mutter stupidly while staring into space. While I was expecting a twist to be revealed at the tail end of this adventure, since after all that''s when all the truth bombs are dropped, this particular bit of ordnance completely blindsided me. "Alien colonists to be exact." The Voice continues, "I had kindly allowed them to settle this world but their lust for inter group genocidal violence brought about -" "You know what? Let''s get back on topic." I cut The Voice off as my head continues to spin, "Anyway, why did you never tell me about this null field business?" "Because I only recently put together the pieces myself." The Voice responds,"Remember, the codex is not one of my creations. I only made the connection between the codex and a null field after the battle at Ascension Tower." I think back to my assault on Cuck Man''s base at the Tower. Cuck Man and Hobo Beard had managed to get the codex working after hooking it up to as many supercomputers they could get their hands on. As the codex began to deploy, Naiberg said something about it''s through purpose as well. Something that caused The Voice to completely flip out. "Hobo Beard said that the codex''s real function is to serve as a gate for the ascension into godhood." I recall, "You then had a panic attack when it began to generate an artificial synchronicity event." The Voice scoffs, "Naiberg was wrong. Ascension is simply another form of journey between destinations. What alerted me to the codex''s true nature was the artificial synchronicity event." Synchronicity. An event where two individual things share the same metaphysical space at the same time. It was how I was summoned to this dimension. Gallant and I puked over ourselves at the exact same moment, down to the very last second. When we shared the same spot in the universe, The Voice took the opportunity to snatch my soul away. But if the codex could reduce distances between points to zero, then that means - "The null field was deploying at the Tower." I hazard a guess, "The field collapsed the moment I unplugged the codex, but while it was active, the zero distance phenomenon had been created." "Correct." The Voice confirms, "Analysis of the data that had been processed by the supercomputers at the time indicates that a zero distance had been established at the sub-atomic level as the gates of ascension began to open." "Two points sharing the same location." I muse, "And that created the artificial synchronicity. So it was always just a side effect. But how is the codex relevant to this discussion?" "Ordinarily, the codex would be useless without its attendant infrastructure." The Voice rasps, "Supercomputers are needed to perform the mathematics required for a controlled deployment of the null field. A power source is required to ensure the field is kept stable." I fold my arms frowning, "But we are not in an ordinary situation now I suppose?" "No, we are not." The Voice sighs, "There is only one way to use the codex in its current state. Forcing a containment breach and allowing the null field to extend outwards completely uncontrolled and unstable." The laptop''s screen now displays the world map, the full version this time. A blinking red dot appears just off the coast of the Southern Continent, and an opaque circle of black begins to extend outwards from the red dot, swallowing the continent completely. The black sphere constantly expands and retracts, unable to remain a constant size, but nevertheless manages to engulf the continent even in its most enfeebled state. "As you can see," The Voice continues, "breaching the null field''s containment would catch the Southern Continent in the dimensional fold, erasing it from reality, at least until the field collapses naturally on its own accord. We cannot let that happen, Transmigrator." I want to ask whether Fate can breach the null field''s containment before recalling what happened in the battle against her. Fate''s power is literally being a Mary Sue. If there''s a way to let the null field out, Fate will find it. If there isn''t, she would conveniently manage to perform the impossible. Instead of wasting anymore time, I turn my attention to the real question that matters. "What''s so important about the South anyway?" I ask, "What are you hiding there that you don''t want anyone getting near to?" A long silence. "I can''t help you if you''re not willing to be honest with me." I remark pointedly to The Voice. The Voice begins hesitantly, "Transmigrator, do you know why you can control Mr Gallant''s body despite not actually being physically present?" "Its obvious." I snort, "I''m transmitting my thoughts from my home dimension right? Its like remote con - no way. No fucking way." "You have the answer." The Voice murmurs softly, "Go ahead and say it." In all my time in this dimension, I had never actually met The Voice, not face to face. It had always communicated remotely. Despite being perpetually absent, The Voice could spawn objects, take control of machines and more. Common sense told me that it had to be doing these things from somewhere, but I had never bothered figuring out where that place was. Its all so obvious now. "Your brain. The Southern Continent is where your brain is." Final Destiny The Voice swallows audibly over the line as it continues, "You are correct Transmigrator. Like you, I keep my mind separate from the body. The Southern Continent was hidden away precisely to ensure that my brain remained safe." I nod triumphantly, "Its that rule you talked about right? The physical mind is what dictates personality? So what, Fate is planning to head shot you into oblivion?" "Not precisely." The Voice mumbles, its speech trembling as the stress of the situation builds, "I can survive the release of a null field. Unfortunately, until the field dissipates naturally, I would be left lobotomized and helpless." "That''s not a problem really." I smirk, "You''re forgetting one important fact." "Which is?" The Voice ignores my snide remark and responds hopefully, clearly hoping that its assessment of the situation was wrong. "Fate would get caught in the null field as well." I point out while tracing a circle with my finger around the red dot on the laptop''s screen, "Both of you would be trapped together, equally helpless. Not the best situation, but far from a lose state." "The ''Fate'' we fought was merely an avatar." The Voice sighs, "Possessing great power but most likely not actually carrying Fate''s mind, much like how my drone armies operate. Fate is almost certainly transmitting her thoughts to the avatar from a secure location." "But the loss of the avatar would still hurt Fate, right?" I ask, getting rather worried at how things were developing by this point. "Yes. Fate has invested far more power into the avatar than I have put into the drones." The Voice rumbles, "Unfortunately, trading an avatar in return for incapacitating my mind would still be a winning move." And if The Voice gets knocked out, I can say goodbye to all the support it had been providing. No weapons, armor or safe houses. Even more problematically, no way to keep Gallant''s body maintained. It was now impossible for me to visit a regular healer or doctor. Not unless I wanted them to freak out about the zombie that wandered into their office. And most importantly, no Voice meant no way home. I would be trapped in this dimension until Gallant''s corpse falls apart from lack of maintenance. Or until Fate kills me. Bad outcomes all round. "How long will this null field last once it has been let out of the codex?" I query while pacing about in the apartment. "Decades." The Voice rasps, "More than enough time for Fate to strike the killing blow against the both of us." "That long?" I gasp in disbelief, "How can that be possible? There''s no available power source on the Narancha to keep the field up." "The null field is capable of spanning distances measured in light years." The Voice explains as though I was slow in the head, "Swallowing up a continent would not place a particularly heavy strain on it." "We need to strike first." I declare, bunching my hand into my fist and planting it on to the table with a thump, "Take out Fate''s brain, wherever it is and leave the avatar drooling like a retard as it sails the high seas." "Impossible." The Voice morosely states, "We have no way of determining the location of Fate''s brain, not in the time available to us." "OK. Fine. At least tell me your brain is defended by something." I snap in exasperation, while running my hand through my hair. The Voice perks up slightly at this prompt and begins, "Of course my mind is protected. I have deployed a spatial rift that will tear apart any incoming force. Fate will - oh." And just like that, The Voice deflates once more. "Oh?" I repeat with a sense of overwhelming dread creeping up on me, "What in the world does ''oh'' mean?" "I have figured out why Fate was interested in the Narancha and its battle group." The Voice says, "Fate intends to breach the spatial rift by force."Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. "Can that actually be done?" I blurt out, "No way can it be so easy right?" The picture of the world map now updates, with the red dot now several fingers worth of distance from the coast of the Southern Continent. Once again the black sphere begins extending outwards from the red dot. Despite being deployed much further away from the continent, the sphere still manages to swallow it up, although just barely. "A carrier battle group would have thousands of sailors within it." The Voice rasps worriedly, "That''s excluding the men brought by Gustav and Matsui in the initial attack. With so many souls at its immediate disposal, Fate would have the means to force open a path through the rift, at least part way." "And part way is all she needs." I conclude. "Fate does not need to actually reach the Southern Continent." The Voice says in a rush, "It just needs to be close enough to unleash the null field against me. And once that happens -" "Game over." I pronounce, my face grim. "Indeed. Game over." The Voice agrees as a command prompt appears on the laptop''s screen, overlapping with the world map, "Transmigrator, I am amending your objectives. We no longer have the luxury of assisting the Hero in his quest. Our survival must come first. Now, enter the command prompts into the laptop as I instruct." I immediately begin bashing out the commands into the laptop as directed by The Voice. The laptop''s hard disk rattles as it processes the orders and more prompts are sent back through the command prompt window. The Voice steps up the tempo, firing more instructions at me with machine gun speed as my fingers fly across the keyboard, just managing to keep pace. "What''s all this for?" I ask, not even daring to stop typing. "I had detected an anomaly in the spatial field." The Voice replies, "A check revealed nothing, but from our discussion, we can only draw only one conclusion. The Narancha has begun breaching the spatial rift." My heart sinks at this piece of information. The Voice and I are too late. Fate has already initiated the final battle and we are not even in position. "Transmigrator, I need you to deploy immediately." The Voice rushes on, "The commands I am having you type will manually summon one of my aerial drones to the Academy and provide it with a series of way points. Once the drone arrives, you will have one minute to board it before it flies off on a predetermined course to take it outside of The City''s boundary. I will take over as the pilot at this point and fly you to the breach. Understand?" "One minute?" I shout in surprise, "How am I supposed to prepare in this time? Where is my gear?" "Your fist and feet will have to suffice." The Voice answers, "There is no time to prepare any weapons for you. The dissipation of most of Mr Gallant''s soul has also given you full access to his memories. Use the travel time to absorb as many of his skills as you are able." My spine tingles as I make sense of what The Voice is saying. I am at the point of the story where the entire skill tree is being unlocked. Meaning this is close to the end. The real end of the whole adventure. But unlike other isekai protagonists, I am not being given the chance to grind or a cheat item to buy all the skills at once. I have no illusions that I will only be able to absorb a handful of Gallant''s spells before the end battle starts. "What about the Hero and his duel?" I ask, sweating figurative bullets. "That task will be left to Mrs Alley and the former Commander Hernandez." The Voice rasps distractedly, "It is the best we can do for now." "Will they be enough?" I question rhetorically, getting up from the chair. "No," The Voice sullenly admits, "but they will have to be. No matter what comes their way." I laugh to myself for a moment, reflecting on my situation. Transmigrators start as lone heroes and end their quest leading an adoring party of powerhouses, assembling a harem of beauties and perhaps becoming gods in their own right. While here I am heading into the final battle by my lonesome. From the start to the end, all my battles had to be fought by myself. Just like back home. A loud noise blasts through the Academy, causing a commotion outside the apartment. I look out of the window and see a winged delta shape resembling a giant arrowhead streaking across the sky, getting rapidly closer. Damn, that was a sonic boom. How fast does The Voice''s drone fly? "It is time." The Voice pronounces, "I will be talking to you soon." Then the line over the earpiece goes dead. The drone makes a steep dive and abruptly pulls up before crashing, twisting its directional jets violently. The flames from the jets causes a heat haze to rise around the drone as it comes to a stop, hovering in place just in front of the apartment. With the matte black finish off its hull and the sleek angular shape, I change my impression of how the drone looks. Up close it resembles more a car sized stealth fighter than an arrowhead. The Voice had splashed out for some top tier kit for itself. Alright, one minute. I take a final look at Alley and Hernandez. Would we ever see each other again? Well, only one way to find out. I open the door of the apartment and dash towards the waiting automaton. Then I realized there is no place for me to board the drone. Thinking fast, I jump on top of the drone and hang on tight, just in time for the jets to begin revving up once again. I fire up the artificial core to prevent Gallant''s eardrums from bursting as the drone begins to pull up from the ground. With a final roar of its engines, the drone shoot upwards past the falling snow and pierces cleanly through the clouds, leaving The City behind us. And once again I am carried beneath the gaze of an indifferent sky. This time towards Fate. And towards the end. The Moment of Destiny The wind screams past my ears, joining the cacophony of the aerial drone''s jets as it whizzes over the skyline of The City at a blistering pace. The momentum of the flight forces me flat on to my stomach as I hang on for the dear life from one of the drone''s wings. Behind me is the roar of a sonic boom, left behind in the drone''s wake. We''ve made supersonic speed, and the artificial core constantly circulates energy to prevent Gallant''s body from tearing apart, but I don''t feel any stress building up. Its as if Gallant''s body has made its peace with the core the moment he died. No point thinking about this stuff now. The drone passes over the docks of The City and begins its journey across the placid sea. A few ships here and there dot the landscape, but everything else is as peaceful as can be. Just another day in this messed up dimension. I always felt that the battle deciding the fate of the world would have at least some pizzazz to it, but there are no cheering crowds or expectant spectators. The destiny of this world is going to be decided and the locals don''t even have the slightest idea about it. I suppose there''s something to be said about stupid sheeple making up most of the population. I shut my eyes and begin concentrating on digesting as many of Gallant''s spells I can in the time that is left. The going''s not easy though. The Voice was not kidding when it said that I had unrestricted access to all of Gallant''s mind. His memories, emotions and various foibles are all jumbled together with the actually useful information that I need. I am almost tempted to just say ''fuck it'' and consume Gallant''s mind wholesale, but the risks involved in doing that would be too great. The personality is governed by the mind, not the soul. If I absorbed all of Gallant''s mind, would his personality become permanently grafted to my soul? No way I was going to chance that. So that left sifting through years worth of memories to snag a few nuggets of brass from the muck. And when I do find spells that I want to absorb, Gallant does not make the process easy. Each spell he learned has an ocean of resentment and generally confused emotion attached to it. Its like a little piece of his history that has zero context behind it. I can force the knowledge into my brain, but excising Gallant''s personal feelings attached to them is a tedious struggle. My initial estimates were correct. I will only be able to unlock a bare handful of Gallant''s skills at this rate. "We will reach the spatial rift soon." The Voice rasps, breaking my concentration, "Are you ready?" "Not really, but that doesn''t matter now, does it?" I reply wearily, "Gallant''s not letting go of his knowledge easily. I need more time to assimilate everything." "Do your best with the time you have left." The Voice answers, "I am going to be making my final approach. Hang on tight." The drone banks steeply downwards, and draws level with a thick wall of fog looming ahead of us. There is a grayish tint in the fog coupled with the distant sound of thunder. The drone steers itself towards an invisible way point that only The Voice can see and plunges into the depths. A blast of rain sprays my entire body as the drone pierces the barrier protecting the Southern Continent. Lightning flashes across the sky and the ocean below us heaves as massive tidal waves crash across its surface. The waves had already taken their first casualty, a capsized overturned P5 destroyer that drifts listlessly with its keel up, resembling a dead fish. "The weather is your doing?" I ask The Voice. "Yes. Something to slow the Narancha down." The Voice confirms, "This storm will not stop Fate, but at least it will buy us some time to catch up with the fleet." I squint at the overturned destroyer and see several figures floating about in the water around it. Corpses, hundreds of them buoyed up by the waves, grisly and bloated. "What in the world happened here?" I query despite not really wanting to know. "A group suicide most likely." The Voice remarks, "Fate would have compelled the sailors to end themselves, releasing a massive amount of spiritual energy for its use. My guess is that this spiritual energy allowed the Narancha and its remaining escorts to breach the first layer of the spatial rift." "Damn. So all we need to do is to follow the corpses?" I mutter, my eyes transfixed on the bodies bobbing up and down in rhythm with the sea. "Expect to see more death, Transmigrator." The Voice rumbles, "I sense the Narancha still making steady progress. That means more grist is being fed into the mill, so to speak." Both of us fall into silence as the drone doggedly continues its pursuit through the mist, lashed by the rain all the way. I lose all sense of direction, as visibility drops the deeper we head into the fog. Cold bites into my skin as it my armor is soaked through thanks to the rain. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "How am I not feeling any stress build up anyway?" I shout over the din of the jet engines, "None of what is going on right now can be healthy for Gallant''s body." "Gallant''s body is dead, Transmigrator." The Voice booms back as it sends the drone into a sharp swerve, barely avoiding an incoming lightning bolt, "The world regards it as pure matter under my dominion. This has increased its affinity with the power from the artificial core." As I am chewing over this little tit bit, I see another ship dead in the water just ahead of us. This one looks like a civilian cruise liner, most probably one of the vessels that had been seized by ORPO when they embarked on their journey with Fate. No bodies drift about in the water around the ship, causing my spirits to lift for a moment. But then I observe the decks of the cruise liner itself. Lines of ORPO officers had lined up in neat rows and opened fire at each other, staining the entire ship with their blood. The survivors then dashed their heads apart against the hull. "We need to hurry." I mutter, "Not that I care or anything, but this shit is getting way too extreme for my taste." "I am fortifying the rift with all the power that can be spared." The Voice grunts with exertion, "The Narancha''s passage has been temporarily halted. If what we are seeing is any indication though, I suggest you steel your stomach for what is to come." Damn. That means Fate will keep butting at the rift while ordering her minions to kill themselves, until the Narancha bulldozes past the barricade set up by The Voice. The carrier group is going to be a complete charnel house by the time we catch up. As I steady my nerves for the horror that awaits up ahead, I see the blinking of lights within the depths of the fog. "We''re almost there!" I yell in excitement, "We made in time!" "Transmigrator, I cannot see the Narancha and its escorts." The Voice mutters, now sounding drained and tired, "While I can sense their approximate position in the rift, you will need to guide me for our attack run." "Can you keep the fleet in place?" I ask while folding my body into a tense crouch. The Voice makes a low moan before it replies, "Not for much longer. The rift is being battered by powerful surges of spiritual energy. I am barely keeping up." As the drone draws closer, I see the Narancha and its escorts held in place by a massive vortex that has erupted in the centre of their formation. By every natural law, the entire fleet should have been dragged into the depths, but the ships remain unperturbed, floating steadily without a care in the world. No signs of pandemonium or distress either. The entire fleet has been shielded by a dome made out of red thread, which ripples outwards, lashing at the wall of mist with frightening intensity. Instead, I see the sailors of each of the escorts calmly filing on to the deck, their officers urgently gesturing at them. The sailors organize themselves into parade ranks as their officers hustle down the line, firing a bullet into the back of each sailor''s head. The dead are quickly replaced by another rank of sailors who patiently wait for their officers to turn back and begin to process once more. There are no cries of despair or shows of devotion. This isn''t murder. This is just death in its purest, most mechanical form. "Keep flying straight." I tell The Voice, "And keep dropping altitude until I tell you to stop." At the head of the death fleet is the Narancha itself. Relentlessly battered by waves yet standing defiant. The flat top''s deck, once used to launch aircraft now plays host to a swarming mass of people. P5 sailors, gangsters in suits, Legion soldiers and Gustav''s staff, they are all packed on to the ramp, as if waiting an order. The tension is palpable, I could cut it with a knife. "Stop dropping altitude." I instruct The Voice, "Turn to the right, twenty degrees." The drone smoothly complies and begins its attack run. Then in complete silence, the assembled mass of figures begin marching straight off the Narancha''s deck like lemmings charging off a cliff. Its like a tap was turned on at full blast, a fountain of people casting themselves into the sea without hesitation. As the men disappear into the dark abyss, the fury of the red thread increases, slashing at the mist with renewed strength. And standing at the edge of the carrier''s ramp, is someone I am familiar with. Fate. "They''re drowning themselves." I gasp in morbid amazement, "No struggle, nothing. They die because Fate needs them to die." "I cannot hold the Narancha for much longer." The Voice groans, "You must make your move now!" I nod, getting up to my feet. As the drone passes overhead the Narancha my muscles tense. And I take a flying leap. I had never thought of myself to be a hero. I don''t even want to be a hero in the first place. But seeing this craziness happening in front of me right now? Maybe this world really is better off under The Voice. I put my feet together and arms to my sides, speeding up my descent. Like a speeding bullet, I pass through the dome of red thread, causing Fate to look up in alarm. No element of surprise then. Too bad, I''ll have to deal. The people on the deck keep throwing themselves overboard and by now the Narancha''s ramp is mostly empty. Thousands of lives, snuffed out like that. More than anything, this illustrates the stakes being played for. Fate is not some two bit demon king who will go down easily or surrender after a spot of ''redemption''. The gods in this dimension play to win. And don''t accept second place. I perform a flip and land on top of the Narancha''s flight deck, bending my knees and slamming my remaining fist down authoritatively with a clang of metal. Fate stands impassively in the distance, watching me in silence. An idle thought hits me. How would Tensei handle this situation? "I''m back." I declare, straightening up and pointing my index finger squarely at Fate. She spreads her arms wide, beckoning, no daring me to approach. Fate''s red thread retracts back towards herself, forming the shield that had foiled me before. There''s a saying. In times of crisis, the past is prologue. Well, this is a crisis alright. I never wanted to be a Hero. But now, for my own future - I will be the Hero this world needs. Fate of The World As I rush towards Fate, a lance of fear pierces my heart. I still have not found a way to breach Fate''s Mary Sue field, neither do I have any weapons that can even the odds. Another wave slams against the Narancha, sending the carrier tilting to the side before steadying itself. Fate waits calmly at her end of the takeoff ramp, confident in her ability to deal with me. But I''m committed now. Fate has to be defeated otherwise there would be no future for either me or The Voice. "GALLANT!" a furious roar coming from above causes me to break my stride as I look up in alarm. One of the windows lining the carrier''s tower burst open, showering the deck with shards of glass. And from the broken window bursts out a hulking ape like shape, pouncing towards me from several floors above without any hesitation. I swiftly roll to the side, avoiding being stomped into paste by the miniature giant who slams on to the deck like a cannonball. Getting back up to my feet, I take in the warped, distended figure loping towards me. The man is now physically several times larger compared to when I last saw him, with hard muscles painted with varicose veins cover every inch of his body, but I still recognize that face lined with wrinkles caused by age and worry. Godfather Matsui. The Godfather rears himself up to his full new height, almost equal to three full grown men standing on each others'' shoulders as he beats his chest, hooting in fury. The crown of his head has completely burst open, revealing several pulsing tumors growing from his skull and spilling outwards thanks to their size. I grimace at Monkey Man Mark 2, annoyed at the small fry sent by Fate to delay my approach. Flaring the core, I unleash my unadulterated presence at Matsui, trying to break what''s left of his mind in a single stroke. Matsui looks as if he has seen a ghost and immediately cowers away from me, foaming in the mouth. But then then I hear a loud, incoherent shout in the back of my head as Fate gestures imperiously at the ape man. The tumors in Matsui''s head begin to pulsate with greater intensity as the fear in his eyes clears up. Matsui recovers his composure and cleans the foam from his mouth with a hairy tree trunk like arm before confronting me once more. "Give me back my son!" Matsui roars at the top of his lungs and lashes out at me with lightning speed. Before I can react, his fist strikes me squarely in the head like a sledgehammer. And I feel nothing, tanking the shot as if I had been hit with a pillow. When The Voice told me that Gallant''s body had a greater affinity with its power than before, I did not realize what kind of difference it would make. But now I know. Matsui''s punch would ordinarily have sent me flying backwards, but with the body''s increased ability to channel higher levels of power from the artificial core, my resilience has also greatly increased. Matsui might have been regarded as a troublesome small fry before, but now he is nothing compared to me. "I''ll send you to join him!" I snarl back at Matsui and send my fist whistling towards his gut. My blow solidly connects and I feel the ape man''s internal organs begin to burst from the impact. Matsui is sent flying backwards in a heap before coming to a rest at Fate''s feet. Matsui struggles in vain to get back into the fight before abruptly sinking to his knees and vomiting up all the pulped organs in a messy pool. And with that, the Godfather of the Matsui clan expires, choking to death on pieces of his ribs and stomach. "Anyone else?" I ask Fate, "Or can we get to the main event?" There''s a clang of the carrier''s doors opening and with the marching of feet, men come surging out from the interior on to the deck. A motley gathering of sailors, Legion troops and Matsui enforcers hastily surround me, brandishing guns, knives, clubs and whatever makeshift weapons they could get their hands on. The scraps of this fleet. They''re probably lucky to have avoided the mass suicide thanks to my sudden appearance. And at their head is Gustav bearing dark circles under his eyes, his expensive suit soaked and ruined from the rain. "Piss off." I tell Gustav bluntly, "You''re wasting my time." Gustav blinks the rain out of his eyes and shouts, "Attack! For the goddess!" The ring of shabby survivors charge forwards, seeking to strike at me from all sides. But the moment I flare my core, the entire wave recoils in fear and scrambles backwards in mad panic. Several of the men collapse to the floor in wracked by fits while the others cover their eyes or look away, trying to block out my presence. "Attack! Attack!" Gustav rants like a broken record, "No retreat you cowards!" I sneer at them and raise my arm, moving the core''s energy as Gallant''s memory had taught me. "Burning Bush!" I shout and unleash the spell. The entire ring of men erupts into flame, throwing the already panicking horde into a complete rout. The group rapidly disperses, trampling over each other in their mad rush to jump overboard in order to extinguish the flames. Gustav is swallowed up by the thrashing mob and I hear his increasingly plaintive cries as he attempts to keep order with no one interested in listening to him. In no time at all, the little army that Gustav amassed had melted away, leaving his bloody body lying all alone on the deck. Battered and crushed during the stampede, Gustav is close to death, but still tries to speak. "I fought to keep this world safe," Gustav croaks, his eyes blindly staring upwards, "to help all of you thrive, but you still stand with the Tyrant against me?" My mind blanks in confusion. What in the world is Gustav babbling about? Getting his shit pushed in must have drove the man nuts.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "You betray me, kill my children, allow the monster the Tyrant summoned to use your body." Gustav rattles, "I will never forgive this." Its not Gustav that''s talking. Its Fate. She''s just using Gustav to speak to me since I can''t understand what she says. "I will never forgive you!" Gustav shrieks like a banshee, pure hate soaked into every syllable. Matter sense blares a warning in my mind and I jump to the side, barely avoiding getting skewered by the flagpole Fate had armed herself with. Backing up quickly and taking care not to enter the Mary Sue field she''s erected, I easily dodge Fate''s follow up attacks and build a healthy amount of distance between us. As this game of cat and mouse continues, with Fate pressing me while I evade, I slowly begin to get a better idea of how Fate''s powers work. Fate''s has the strength and speed of an average, unpowered woman. That makes dodging her easy. As long as I am not caught in the Mary Sue field. Fate''s flagpole shoots forward towards my head as the field expands hungrily out. I jump, grabbing a convenient ledge and start scaling the carrier''s tower, managing to avoid the blow that causes the flagpole to tear right through the Narancha''s hull. That kind of force would have been impossible with Fate''s level of strength. But not with the Mary Sue field active. I have no idea how the Mary Sue field works, but I can make a fair guess at what it actually does. Fate cannot fail in anything she tries, as long as it is done within the field. Not strong enough to do any damage? No problem, Fate does damage anyway because the Mary Sue field says so. Not fast enough to dodge bullets? Who cares, everyone knows that Mary Sues can dodge just by shuffling awkwardly about. Mary Sue is the kind of OP ability a hero or heroine would get. Reality would bend over backwards to ensure Fate kicks my ass as long as the field is active. The only consolation is that there is a limit as to how far the field can extend. Fate''s pathetic base stats mean that outside of the Mary Sue zone, she has no real chance of hurting me. I take a flying leap from the Narancha''s tower and land on the opposite end of the carrier''s runway from Fate. I need maximum available space to keep maneuvering around her. But there''s still another problem. To hurt Fate I need to get close. Ranged attacks won''t work either, The Voice''s miniguns at the hub had proven that. All I am accomplishing now is buying time. To break this deadlock, I need to gamble. Fate rushes at me again with the flagpole held like a lance. I lift my fist high and summon the core''s strength. "Damavand!" I shout, bringing the fist down hard on the Narancha''s deck. The power that can subdue a dragon ripples outwards, shattering the flight deck as Fate hurtles pell mell towards me. As the ground disintegrates beneath her feet, she plummets down into the Narancha''s hangar. Wasting no time, I pounce in right after her, angling my body so that it will land right on top of Fate. A Mary Sue always wins because she is the center of her reality. But unlike Gallant, I am not part of this world. I am not part of Fate''s reality. As the body falls, I shut off the core causing my strength to ebb away. Fate lands heavily but with no injury and she quickly redirects the flagpole upwards, looking to spear me like a fish. With no way to dodge, I can only watch as the edge of the flagpole grows steadily closer. Until it pierces me neatly through the chest, right in the heart. But that does not matter. The gamble paid off. The moment my body made contact with the field, the red threads immediately began to fray and break apart, just like in the Crossroads. As The Voice had said, Gallant''s soul no longer provides a mitigating factor against my presence. Now, my alien presence literally weighs on this world wherever I go. And before a stranger to this world, Fate''s status as a Mary Sue means nothing. I feel numbness spread all over the body as it begins to fail again, the core''s power no longer animating it. With the last of my available strength, I headbutt Fate hard, sending her reeling backwards in surprise. As she releases her grip on the flagpole, I fire up the core once more and the weakness fades. Grabbing the makeshift weapon by the shaft, I pull it out of my chest while Fate desperately attempts to reassemble her Mary Sue field. But before she is even halfway done, I hurl the flagpole like a javelin, piercing her straight through the shoulder. "Dead men don''t need their organs silly." I mock while stalking towards the now injured goddess. Fate stumbles away, the red thread no longer working on reactivating the field. She has instead redirected the thread towards the wound I have inflicted. The flagpole begins to be forced out of her body as the threads rapidly seal the gaping hole. With a powerful flap of her wings, Fate shoots out of the Narancha''s hangar, back towards the relative safety of the deck. The field is down, but Fate is far from out. Her rapid regeneration is going to be a problem. Focusing the core''s power, I begin casting as I had learnt from Gallant''s memories. A single step is taken - - and my whole body flashes forward in a blur, intercepting Fate in midair. Her reactions slowed to mundane levels, Fate cannot react in time to me grabbing one of her wings. With a pull from my remaining arm, the wing tears off in a shower of blood, sending her crashing back down hard on to the ship''s deck. As Fate staggers back up to her feet, the red thread has already gotten to work on the savaged wing, stopping the bleeding and already growing it back. The wound in her shoulder is completely healed as the flagpole slips out of the disappearing wound with a clatter. Wasting no time, I rush forwards and deliver a kick to the now thoroughly confused goddess''s crotch. Fate''s entire body bucks upwards and she sinks to the ground in spasms of pain. "Pointless." Gustav''s hoarse voice reaches me from the far end of the deck, "My body will heal before you can deliver a killing blow." "I worked that out already." I smirk, "Here''s the coup de grace." Reaching into the trench coat, I pull off the hangman''s noose that came as part of The Voice''s armor set that had been prepared for me. As Fate rolls on to her belly and begins crawling away, I loop the noose around her neck and tighten it. "This shit blocks your powers. Feel it?" I mock as the red thread crackles impotently, breaking up whenever it touches the noose, "How long do you think you will last with a broken neck?" "Don''t. Please." Gustav''s voice pleads, "You will deliver this world to the Tyrant. You will doom every single living thing to unending darkness." I pull Fate up to her feet and march her to the edge of the Narancha''s ramp, holding my end of the noose tightly. "No. One. Cares." I state before kicking Fate''s body right off the Narancha and jerking the rope hard. I feel a sudden resistance. Then nothing. Not a peep from Gustav. Nothing but a dead weight swaying from the noose. I look down and see the codex falling from the folds of Fate''s evening gown. She had hidden the thing in her bosom all this time, how about that. The codex is quickly swallowed up by the sea as the storms quietens down and the vortex disappears. All around me, the red threads that blocked The Voice''s presence disintegrate before being blown away with the sea breeze. I let the swaying corpse of the goddess drop into the sea as well, where it sinks like a stone. "Well done, Transmigrator." The Voice rasps from the earpiece, "Mission accomplished." "Is it over?" I ask, slumping against the Narancha''s hull in relief. "Yes." The Voice confirms, "It is over. You did it. You saved the world." End of Arc Four Epilogue: Homeward Bound "Alley did what now?" I snort with laughter while lurking in the shadows of the von Amsterg manor. "She bludgeoned the servant with a fire extinguisher during the mission to assist the Hero." The Voice rasps, "Quite frankly, I was as surprised as you when it happened." "No shit." I stifle my giggles as a servant walks past my hiding spot, "How did she get into such a situation?" "Mrs Alley and Commander Hernandez had managed to infiltrate the stadium the duel was being held in." The Voice relates, "Unfortunately, they were detected by the servant who led a team of security guards to corner the pair in the stadium''s control room." "So how did those two get out of this situation?" I ask genuinely curious. "Mostly thanks to you." The Voice rumbles, "Defeating Fate sent a shock wave throughout the world, disrupting the means it had been using to blind me. I was alerted just in time to our assistants'' plight and triggered the stadium''s fire alarm, giving them the distraction needed to turn the tables on the servant." "And Celeste got slugged by a fire extinguisher." I chuckle, "Classic. What about the other guards?" "Commander Hernandez managed to draw his pistol and gun them down during the fracas." The Voice says, "Unfortunately, the confusion also allowed the servant to escape, but I suppose you cannot win them all." "So Celeste is still out there, running loose?" I query uneasily. "Just so." The Voice states, "We have also not found the location of Fate''s physical brain. There are a number of loose ends but all in all, we have won a solid victory." "But won''t Fate come back?" I press. "Eventually." The Voice agrees, "Nevertheless, the loss of so much of its power as well as two Incarnates will leave it impotent for a few decades at least. By that time the civil war will be underway and my victory will be sealed." "You''re the expert." I grunt and peer out into the grand hall where a celebration is being held. Anyone of substance in The City would be here at the von Amsterg manor tonight, since it would be a golden chance to suck up to the new Prince of Europe. There''s a long line of luxuriously dressed men and women lining up before a high backed chair in gold trim. And sitting on the chair is our man of the hour, the Hero. Tensei looks at the fawning crowd with a slightly sorrowful and strained expression, but plays along with the dignitaries and celebrities, treating them with respect. There are a few jealous glances thrown his way though, but that''s really no fault of Hero man''s. Sitting on his lap is Brocon, smirking at the crowd with an insanely smug look. And Tensei is sandwiched by Magic Police Girl and the Idol who have each perched themselves on one of the chair''s armrests while leaning into the Hero. The Heroines were always hot, but now that they have dolled themselves up and rolled out the primo evening wear, the trio are beyond supermodel attractive. "I''ve heard of a flower in each arm," I mutter, "but what in the world do you call this?" "The Harem End, Transmigrator." The Voice laughs, "This is what we have been working towards. Tonight is the culmination of all that effort." "How did Hero man beat the vampires anyway?" I whisper. "The Hero and Heroine von Amsterg battled the St Clairs for one day and one night, to the very limit of endurance." The Voice explains, "At the break of dawn, Mrs Alley and Commander Hernandez fortuitously opened the stadium''s automated shutters from the control room, letting in a bit of sunlight for our friends." "And no one bothered to investigate?" I quip. "What is there to investigate?" The Voice asks in mock innocence, "Heroine von Amsterg has formally given up her inheritance. Nicholas von Amsterg was vaporized into ash that morning. Gustav von Amsterg has gone mysteriously missing.There is only one legitimate heir to the Princedom of Europe." "Well, this bullshit will cast a shadow over Tensei''s reign." I comment, "Feel a bit bad for him." "The Hero will only reign for around nine months." The Voice chortles, "Once his children are born, he will be terminated and we can get the civil war on the road. Tensei von Amsterg will be nothing but a footnote in the history books." "Now I feel really bad for him." I grunt as I begin making my way out of the manor, "Bring the cab around. I''m done here." "Had the closure you needed?" The Voice asks as I sneak through the manor''s garden, now replanted with fresh rose bushes and vault over the perimeter wall. "Just wanted to know how things turned out." I reply, "I have been here for a while, maybe its me being maudlin. I''m never coming back you know?" "Not changing your mind then?" The Voice rasps as the black cab rolls down the road and comes to a stop in front of me, "The offer to stay is still on the table." "Pass. This place isn''t where I belong." I shoot back while getting into the cab, "I got feuds of my own back home to deal with anyway. I wonder though, how will things work out for Alley and Hernandez?" "Mrs Alley and Commander Hernandez will be redeemed in the eyes of society," The Voice rumbles, "for stopping the vile conspiracy that had destroyed ORPO and SOPO. I expect them to rise high in their careers under the aegis of a mysterious benefactor. Yet their real work will be performed in the shadows, securing the reign of this world''s True Emperor." "There you go again with that Emperor nonsense." I snort, "Ever get checked for megalomania? Anyway, you''re not letting Alley and Hernandez go then?"A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "Why would I?" The Voice asks sounding slightly incredulous, "Mrs Alley and Commander Hernandez are probably the only two natives who do not dismiss my messages as hoaxes or crank emails. They will be useful in the days ahead." "Interesting times are in store then?" I say rhetorically, leaning back into the passenger''s seat. "The most interesting." The Voice confirms. ...... The cab takes the long way back to Ascension Tower, letting me take in the sights of The City one more time. Not that I am ungrateful for the opportunity, but The Voice seems really out of character lately. This little bit of consideration was not the only odd thing. When I demanded a bonus for taking out Fate and straight up asked for immortality, The Voice agreed, no questions, no counteroffers, just a straight up ''Granted''. It made me suspect that it was planning something. That the rug was going to be swept out from under my feet at the very last moment. I don''t sense any treachery from The Voice at least, but you never know. But there''s no point in ruminating about stuff like this. I would know when the time comes to leave. And that time is soon. After a leisurely drive, the cab stops at the entrance of Ascension Tower. The building has already been closed at this time of the night, but I hear the doors discreetly unlock as I approach. Walking inside as if I owned the place, I notice there''s an elevator waiting for me at the lobby. Everything must be ready then. I just need to head back to Naiberg''s lab and begin the process. The elevator whizzed upwards without any preamble and deposits me on the floor where Naiberg''s lab is. Stepping into the main area, I notice that The Voice had cleaned the place up and erected a long metal stand where the codex is mounted. The stand has been hooked up to several generators which begin powering up. In front of the stand is a mattress which looks like it had been carelessly dumped there as an afterthought. "You did not replace the supercomputers." I remark. "No need." The Voice says, "All I need is for the codex to produce the artificial singularity. From there I can remove Mr Gallant''s soul fragment." "So what happens now?" I swallow hard, my hackles beginning to rise. This is it. This is really it. I''m actually going home. "Confirm that you will leave this dimension, Transmigrator." The Voice intones, "Then I will proceed." "I confirm." I nod firmly. No turning back now. "Very well." The Voice responds as the codex begins powering up, "Lie down on the mattress and go to sleep. Let the wind of the Crossroads carry you away." I lie down as instructed, looking at the codex as it begins to spew light from its innards. As my vision fades, the light splits into a hundred different rays, then consolidates back into a rainbow. My body grows numb as I close my eyes to the light. But I can still see it in my mind, in my soul, flowing into me, pulling at me like a torrent. I don''t resist and let the light fill my, no, Gallant''s body up. There''s a brief moment of pain as I feel something being torn out of me. Then darkness. .... My eyes open to the Crossroads once more, but this time Fate is not there to assault me. The red threads are in absolute ruin and weakly twitch as I begin to walk down the path of puke. Fate''s in no position to stop me. I really did it. I beat her and now I can go home. "A moment please Transmigrator." a booming Voice echoes throughout the void. The Voice now overwhelmingly dominant, has extended its influence throughout this dimension. Barbed wire lines the path of puke and now the constellations are pulled about on their orbit by claws made out of iron. "What?" I ask, "I''m not turning back you know." "There is a matter I need to discuss with you." The Voice says delicately, "You see, it involves Mr Gallant." "Gallant''s problems are not my problems." I snort, "Anyway, isn''t he dead? What''s there to discuss?" "Oh, Mr Gallant is most certainly dead." The Voice agrees, "However, there is the issue of the prayer he made to me." A bad feeling rises in my heart and I start to hustle down the path of puke. I don''t need to hear this. I cannot afford to hear this. But I only make a few meters before coils of barbed wire grow in my path, blocking the way. "How rude." The Voice harrumphs, "I was hoping you would be more understanding to your fellow collaborator. You see, before he died, Mr Gallant prayed that I would grant him the office of Sacred Executioner in return for eternal service." "Was that why you started spawning those edgy clothes?" I shout back. "Yes." The Voice admits, "More importantly though, I do actually need a Sacred Executioner for what is to come. So it all works out." "What has any of this have to do with me?" I fire back while looking for a way to escape. "Everything." The Voice continues, "You see, Mr Gallant killed the Incarnate of Prince Enma. The law of equivalent exchange obliges me to grant his prayer." "Not that you wanting to grant it in the first place has any bearing on the matter." I snark back. "Coincidence, I assure you." The Voice laughs, "Getting back to the point, I cannot make Mr Gallant my Sacred Executioner because he is dead. But I can still grant his prayer." "How?" I ask, the bad feeling returning. "I can empower his corpse with the artificial core." The Voice explains, "With his mind fully reactivated, Mr Gallant''s prayer will be granted. Unfortunately, there is a problem." "The core has a piece of my soul in it!" I shout angrily as I get the idea of what The Voice has been hinting at, "You dick!" "No need to be rude." The Voice scoffs, "To let you return home, I need to disassemble the artificial core. Otherwise, your soul fragment will constantly pull you back right at the horizon. But if I help you, I cannot help Mr Gallant." "So what?" I snap, "You''re going to throw me under the bus?" "Nothing of that sort." The Voice rasps, "You and Mr Gallant will decide the matter between yourselves." I feel a sudden tearing sensation in my body and the soul fragments rip out from my torso and land on to the path of puke. A warm glow suffuses the area surrounding the fragments and the fragments, causing me to feel a familiar warmth. Its the power from the core, The Voice has reactivated it. The fragments quiver and break apart into dust under the illumination of the glow. The dust cloud swirls around with frenzied energy and steadily begins growing, reconstituting itself. And eventually taking the form of a man dressed in black, with an executioner''s hood over his face and a double handed sword strapped to his back. "You and Mr Gallant will do battle." The Voice announces, "Win Transmigrator, and I will let you leave with all the rewards I have promised. Lose, and stay in this dimension to serve as Mr Gallant''s replacement soul." "YOU DICK!" I shriek in fury, driven half mad by my impotence. As I gasp for breath, staving back panic, my armor begins to form around my body. In no time at all, I am as equally equipped as Gallant who stands patiently in front of me. "This will be a fair contest." The Voice rasps, ignoring my outburst, "Both of you will have access to all the skills you would normally possess. Now, whenever you are ready, feel free to begin." "Sacred Executioner." an unfamiliar voice addresses me. I spend a few seconds looking around before I realize that its Gallant who is talking to me. The Voice must be running this construct of Gallant from his physical mind. That would explain the speech and everything. "I will uphold the dignity of your office." Gallant says, "I will serve the True Emperor with all my heart. Now, let me prove myself worthy of your strength!" Gallant draws his sword and salutes me, waiting for me to do the same. Is this guy for real? Does he really want to serve The Voice forever and ever? You know what? Screw Gallant. Screw The Voice. Screw everything in this stupid dimension. I am going home. And that''s all there is to it. I draw my own sword and salute Gallant in return. "You want it?" I declare, "Then come get it." And for the last time, I charge into battle. Epilogue: Natural Law Infinity is a lie. Well, not exactly. There''s plenty of pain, suffering and disappointment to go around. More than anyone ever wants. So I suppose you could regard that sort of stuff as infinite. The problems start when you start taking stock of the good stuff. The stuff that everyone wants. Then you start running short. In order for one to prosper, another must fall by the wayside. Action and reaction. The irresistible logic of living in a world ruled by scarcity. There''s only so much of the good stuff going around and people just can''t get enough of it. And don''t get me started on the whole business of ''win-win'' arrangements. Win-win just means you and your group of friends are doing the winning. Someone else will always take it on the chin. There''s nothing good or evil about it. Its just the law of the jungle. Its just natural law. I jerk to the side as Gallant''s sword passes my neck, barely missing. I thrust with my own weapon, hoping to catch him off guard, but Gallant easily parries the blow. Our weapons lock and we push, struggling to throw our opposite number of his feet. But again no dice. After a brief and fruitless struggle, Gallant and I mutually release the clinch before retreating to a safe distance from each other. And so it goes, our weapons clashing as we battle between the constellations of the Crossroads. An entire dimension''s worth of spectators and not a single cheer. Talk about a tough crowd. The Voice has remained silent throughout the fight as well, choosing to simply await the emergence of a victor. Unfortunately, Gallant and I are evenly matched. Our fighting prowess comes from the artificial core, so we are near carbon copies of each other as far as this battle is concerned. Same strength, same speed, same toughness even same equipment. I also can''t throw Gallant off with my usual trick of suddenly speeding up my movements since the man has no problem with matching the uptick in tempo. Gallant no longer charges at me and merely keeps his guard up as he slowly approaches. After the exuberance of the first few clashes, both of us had settled into a fruitless mutual butting back and forth with nothing to show for it. And all the while, I feel the call of my dimension''s administrator go steadily stronger. The way home is open. I''ll be damned if I let this stupid surprise boss fight be the end of me. I assume the ready stance and hold my ground, waiting for Gallant to get within range of my blade once more. Then it happens. It barely noticeable, but Gallant trips over a bump on the path of puke. Gallant quickly regains his balance, but his guard is out of position by just that tiny amount. My instincts are honed to a razor point and I race forwards, seeking to take full advantage of this tiny opening. "Rebuke." that unfamiliar voice intones. A golden halo erupts from Gallant''s body and washes over me, causing a stinging pain to crawl all over my skin. I grit my teeth and keep up the momentum of my charge, slashing down at Gallant with all my strength. My opponent flips his sword about and brings the flat of the blade up in a slapping motion, just in time to block what should have been a killing blow. There''s a massive ring of metal clashing against metal and a pulse of pressure explodes from the impact. The wave of pressure washes over the constellations, sending them colliding into each other in the ensuring chaos. "Both of you just caused a fire to break out in The City''s business district with that exchange." The Voice idly comments, "Do try to be more careful." My skin begins to burn as Gallant bathes me in his halo and lesions pop up all over my face. Damn it, I forgot the one thing that separates Gallant from me. The man actually knows magic while I''ve just been faking it all this while. I try to disengage, but this time Gallant resolutely keeps our weapons clinched together, throwing his weight into me every time I begin backing off. Staying in the clinch would mean subjecting myself to more of Gallant''s aura, and that''s a no go. The lesions have started to fade thanks to the core compensating for the damage, but my soul is building stress. All Gallant needs to do is to keep our weapons clinched and my soul would collapse thanks to his damage over time aura. But the moment I begin retreating, my balance would be off and Gallant''s going to throw me to the ground. That would put me in an even worse position. Gallant would just gut me while I am flat on my back. "Rest easy." Gallant says beneath his mask as he presses his blade forward, "I will uphold your legacy, Sacred Executioner." "Someone''s feeling cocky." I snarl back, "This fight is not over yet."This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "It will be soon." Gallant solemnly answers, "You are out of cards to play." "Don''t underestimate me!" I roar and begin moving my spirit as I had learnt from Gallant''s memories. My feet shuffle and my entire body blinks behind Gallant as he stumbles forward, off balance. I raise the executioner''s sword to deliver a blow to his bowed neck, but Gallant performs the same rapid shuffle and immediately disappears. Shit. I surge the core''s output just in time to flash step away from Gallant''s retaliatory attack. As the bartender cum wizard winds his arms back to prepare for another blow, I blink right into his guard and thrust forward, hoping to run him through. But Gallant easily keeps up and disappears in a blur of motion just as my sword begins moving. "Your technique is raw and inefficient." Gallant says as he pops into existence right behind me, "You are clearly inexperienced in using magic as part of your fighting style." I shuffle my feet again and easily flash step away from the strike while snorting, "There''s plenty of magic to spare. Save your observations for class lectures." Another series of blinks as both of us exchange blows in between teleports. Again with no clear outcome. As I knock aside another of Gallant''s attacks, he takes the opportunity to get a few extra words in. "Ah, the strength of your core is really quite something." Gallant observes, "But you are wrong about a certain matter." "Which is?" I snort while taking another swing at the man. "Core strength is not the most important thing in battle magic." Gallant answers without any condescension. Its almost as if he regrets what he is about the to say next. "Casting speed is." Gallant concludes. And my whole world goes white as Gallant flash steps around the path of puke at a rate that I can barely comprehend. For every blink I perform, he can do two, maybe even three if he pushes himself. I try to escape but Gallant quickly corners me, blocking my every avenue of escape by simply flash stepping there. I respond by swing my sword desperately about, trying to swat him aside like as if he was a particularly lethal fly. But Gallant easily blurs past my swings and his sword strikes at my body relentlessly. First to the torso. Then to the legs. And as my legs begin to buckle, Gallant starts chopping at my neck. "Your soul''s integrity is fading, Transmigrator." The Voice rasps from all around, "I suggest bucking up your performance and quickly." As Gallant''s sword bites into my neck another time, I bend my head to the side, trapping the blade. As my opponent doggedly pulls at his sword to free it, I level my own weapon at his gut for a little payback. And to my surprise, Gallant releases his grip on the weapon and throws his fist straight at the incoming sword. "Damavand!" Gallant shouts. His fist makes contact with my sword and the blade explosively shatters as a ripple of force sends me flying backwards. I land flat on my back and Gallant''s weapon falls to the ground with a clatter beside me. An overwhelming sense of fatigue works its way through my body. My soul is probably at its limit. "This is goodbye." Gallant says from the distance, "It has been an honor." He shuffles his feet and disappears. And he flash steps directly above me in the air, plunging downwards like a comet. Gallant extends his index finger straight at me, ready to deliver the final blow. "Finger of the Mountain!" Gallant yells triumphantly. No. I am not finished yet. I have one last card to play. A skill that Gallant cannot counter. I signal my soul fragment in the artificial core and focus. "Force core shut down!" I yell at the top of my voice. And just like that, the ethereal spotlight that had been illuminating our fight disappears. The enormous weight brought forth by Gallant''s magic disappears and he loses all his previous confidence and grace. In an instant, Gallant goes from performing his finishing move to being a regular guy doing an amateurish body splash. I lift my knees to my chest and Gallant''s torso slams against them, causing him to cry out in pain. "Marvelous!" The Voice congratulates, "Where strength fails, your wits prevail. Even now, you manage to impress Transmigrator." Gallant rolls off my knees and lands in a heap, panting for breath. I get back up to my feet and belt him viciously across the face. "Want to take my soul, huh?" I growl as a kick drives into Gallant''s stomach, "You''ve got to be dreaming." Gallant''s body begins flickering intermittently as his breath grows increasingly labored. Without the core, his mind can''t maintain this projection into the Crossroads. Another kick to the chin sends Gallant flying back and the colors of his clothes begin to fade. I''m doing it, I''m winning. Gallant rolls on to his belly to shield his face from my onslaught as I begin stomping away at him. "Its over!" I declare, "Your story is finished!" "NO!" Gallant blares at the top of his lungs like a lion, "I WON''T GO BACK TO BEING WEAK! I WON''T GO BACK TO BEING NOTHING!" The man twists around and I feel a sharp pain travelling up my leg. Staggering backwards, my eyes focus on a shard of metal lodged messily into one of thighs. Gallant reaches out and grabs the bloody piece of metal, twisting it savagely and pulling it out. I shriek in agony as my leg gives way and I collapse on to the ground. "I won''t. I won''t!" Gallant yells in a utterly deranged voice as he stalks towards me with the shard of metal in his hand. Must have come from my shattered sword. The irony, being killed by my own weapon. I crawl backwards, my arms groping about for anything that can help. Then my hand closes around the hilt of Gallant''s executioner sword. As my grip tightens over the weapon, I see Gallant''s eyes go wide beneath his hood. He sees it. He knows. This battle will be decided in the next exchange. Gallant lunges forward and I bring the tip of the sword up. Then - The End Then I wake up in a gutter, reeking of stale alcohol and puke, the glare from the midday sun shining into my eyes and forcing me to squint. My tongue feels like sandpaper and my head threatens to split open from the huge migraine that has decided to pay a visit. I blearily check my watch for the date and it turns out that its just the day after my apocalyptic bender. Rubbing my eyes tiredly, I stagger out of the gutter to greet the not quite so new day, wondering what in the world had happened to me. Was it all just a dream? That would be a real dick move of my brain to play. I pick up the envelope holding the project bid that I had, uh, borrowed from the office and check the contents. Good, nothing''s missing. No one knows about my little secret. Whether my adventures were real or not is hardly the point now. I had already made a decision about what to do with my secret weapon. Screw the bitch and secure my future. I need to start making calls, setting up appointments. I take out my phone and blink at the multitude of missed calls and messages left for me while I had been passed out in the gutter. Plenty of missed calls from the bitch with a single message, "SEE ME AT THE OFFICE IMMEDIATELY." I flip the bird at my phone, cursing it in effigy for the bitch. I also marvel at the sheer convenience of having a pair of working hands again. You never know what you''re missing once its gone. Then there''s the missed calls from the HR department buddies. Might as well take the opportunity to radio back to base and find out what has been going on. "Yeah." I yawn into my phone the moment it connects. "Where in the world are you now?" the HR Buddy squawks back, "Stevenson and the boss have been looking for you the whole day." "Sick." I mutter while fumbling with the envelope as I try tucking it under one of my arms, "What do they want anyway?" "Was it alcohol poisoning?" a long suffering sigh comes over the receiver. Hey, I resent that. I am only occasionally drunk. Its under control. "No, it was something else." I grumble, "I think I might have been abducted across dimensions or something." "Are you alright?" the HR Buddy replies, now sounding seriously worried. Crap, I said the last sentence out loud. I haven''t shaken off my stupor completely yet. As I stifle a curse, the envelope slips from my armpit back into the gutter, spilling its contents. "Yeah. I''m fine. More or less." I say while bending to pick up the papers scattered in the drain, "I don''t think I''m in any shape to come into the office though." "The boss is on a warpath," the HR Buddy whispers, "so you''d better make the effort. She''s been talking about a handover of your duties to Stevenson. The time has come, fam." "My, how do you call it, ''graduation''?" I snort as I pick up a smaller envelope that''s between the sheaves of paper, "That''s the term those idol groups like to use these days, right?" Strange, I don''t remember packing this envelope with the bid documents. I finish retrieving all the loose papers and take a seat on a nearby bench to sort through the mess and check out what is up with this envelope. The thing is absolutely bulging, threatening to burst at the seams any moment. Tearing the envelope apart, I realize that it contained a thick bundle of bank documents, all made out under my name. "We''ve been told to begin your assessment," HR Buddy continues, "and its not looking good. The scuttlebutt is that the boss is going to put you into cold storage in preparation for you know what." "Shit." I mumble as my eyes take in the bundle of bank documents, totally unaware of what HR Buddy is talking about. Its an investment account opened under my name for trading in precious metals. And its absolutely loaded. Going by the number of zeroes on the final page, I''m probably one of the world''s richest men. "Yeah, so you get the idea." HR Buddy drawls, "I can probably keep the wheels spinning for a bit longer, but you''re out of favors. Sorry." The Voice did it. It delivered on its promise. I need to verify this of course, but everything here looks genuine. I grip the project bid documents with renewed ferocity. Only thing left to do is to settle some longstanding grudges. "Yeah. I''m sorry too." I reply agreeably before hanging up. ...... I didn''t visit the bitch on the day her firm ignominiously collapsed of course. I''m an asshole, not a moron. And with the bid documents, I became a partner in a rival company. The Voice had been telling the truth about the blessing as well. Every year without fail, a fresh batch of precious metals is placed into my trading account for my personal use. A limitless font of money. With the bitch out of the way, I could finally move on with my career. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. And The Voice''s blessing allowed me to go straight to the top. You can afford to be daring in your investments and ventures when the power of infinity is behind you. Losses are merely temporary and all my gains are quickly locked in. And that''s why I am where I am standing right now. In my penthouse office located within the corporate building that I own, staring down at all the little people scurrying about their day. It had taken me close to a century of work, but now my reach extends to almost every industry on earth. No government can resist my influence. I smirk at my reflection in the glass windows of the office. One century has passed since the fateful day, and I hardly have aged. If The Voice had told the truth about granting me immortality, my empire would be both unrivaled and eternal. My ruminations are interrupted by the buzz of the intercom. "Yeah." I answer. That''s odd, the President''s audience with me should be scheduled one hour from now. Did someone mess up? "Sir." the hesitant voice of my PA replies, "There''s someone here that doesn''t have an appointment, but he insisted that you would meet him." I roll my eyes at this annoyance, "Send him away. Everyone wants to meet me." The PA is silent for a moment before answering, "He says that he was invited by ''a mutual friend''." My blood runs cold. No way. Absolutely no way. Before I can compose my thoughts, someone barges into my office with the PA following close behind. I turn around and get the shock of my life. Its Tensei. Tensei is standing right in front of me. Dressed in a high school uniform and bearing his generic clean cut good looks and trademark heterowhateveritis, you know, two eyes with each with a different color. Tensei looks at me expectantly but says nothing. My PA begins tugging at the sleeve of his blazer, vainly trying to get him to leave. But I can already see Tensei''s hero halo begin to affect her. There''s this vacant infatuated look in my PA''s face and she is hardly putting any effort in expelling Tensei from my office. What am I supposed to be doing here? How did he get here in the first place? Then, the phone starts ringing, breaking the awkward silence hanging between us. I wave Tensei away irritably while picking up the phone. Hero man at least has the good grace to look apologetic as he retreats from my office while my useless PA links her arm through Tensei''s own. "What?" I growl through the phone, "This is not a good time." A familiar rasp answers, "On the contrary Transmigrator, I find this timing most suitable indeed. You have done well for yourself, I see." "You." I mumble as a sinking feeling overtakes my gut. "Me." The Voice confirms, "Did you like the Mark Two variant of the Hero? Simulations show that he is far more reliable than the predecessor model." "What in the world do you think you''re doing?" I nearly shriek, "No, scratch that question. How are you doing it in the first place? This is not your dimension!" "I managed to master the use of the codex." The Voice answers smugly, "A null field now links my dimension to yours, allowing me to extend my influence here." I slump into my chair, rubbing my forehead in consternation. This can''t be happening. "As to what I am doing," The Voice laughs, "I am expanding my portfolio, so to speak. And you are going to help me." "I have no idea what you are talking about." I manage to choke out. "Mm." The Voice hums, "Then how about this? I am currently engaged in a hostile takeover of this dimension." "No." I say, the feeling of doom now overwhelming. "Yes." The Voice rumbles, "I had instructed Hero II to meet with you. A get to know each other session as it were. You will be providing assistance in his mission from this point forward." "No!" I shout angrily, "I did my part and paid my dues. We are through!" "Is that so?" The Voice responds, "You have prospered thanks to my blessings. The blessings of an invader of this dimension. How kindly do you think this dimension''s administrator will treat you?" "You''re lying." I snarl. "Am I?" The Voice rasps, "Log on to the internet and check today''s news articles. Tell me what you find." I immediately begin banging away at my computer and begin browsing the news feed. And right at the top is a story about a gang fight breaking out in some prestigious academy. A neighborhood tough guy and some poor scholarship case were going at each other over a girl who''s apparently tough guy''s childhood friend. Scholarship boy beat down tough guy''s minions before the pair threw down. Plenty of students got hurt in the fracas and the fight itself went viral. I click on the video and see some kid laying the smack down on a big group before charging at the ringleader. The kid being Tensei obviously, saving the girl from being raped. Or more likely, catcalled. "I don''t get what you''re hinting at." I frown. "Check the family name of Hero II''s main opponent." The Voice states. "Fine." I grumble, "Its -no way. It cannot be. I ruined him!" "Stevenson." The Voice crows triumphantly, "The grandson of your rival and the woman you refer to as ''the bitch''. Your world''s administrator had rescued the original Mr Stevenson and his family from complete destitution, no doubt as a counterbalance against my influence. Now that I am in conflict with the local administrator, their descendant has been empowered to stand against me." I gulp hard. Wonder Boy was supposed to be done away with all those years ago. None of this was supposed to happen. Damn it! "The present Mr Stevenson is currently distracted by Hero II." The Voice concludes, "Where do you think his attention will turn to once Hero II has been defeated?" "DAMN IT!" I shout at the top of my lungs. "Now do you understand why your participation is necessary?" The Voice asks. "Yes." I sigh, completely defeated. "Excellent." The Voice rasps, "I will begin the briefing." An Eternal Partnership Transmigrator End Afterword So that''s the end of this adventure. When I originally began writing Relevance, it was in the spirit of experimentation, to break with the established tropes of Isekai novels. I had consciously tried to break every single rule of the genre. The Protag was thrown not into the starter village but a city where no one cared about him. And not in an edgy way as is so common. Real indifference. The Protag did not get any party members or harem. He had an ability that looked OP, but was incredibly small fry compared to what his real opponents would be packing. A small cast of characters and limited power ups for the Protag. Minimal fluffy moments and a tight script. And so on. But there''s another inspiration to this novel, and that''s the "I am a demon lord" genre. The Voice was originally conceived as a bumbling demon lord and the novel was meant to be far more lighthearted. But then I realized that if I was already experimenting with breaking rules for one genre, falling into the tropes of another would defeat the whole purpose. I also came up with a problem because no serious demon lord would actually say, "Hey I''m the demon lord. Want to work for me and do evil stuff?" Of course that would not happen. No one sane thinks of themselves as evil. Everyone is the hero of their own story. Stolen story; please report. So that''s how Transmigrator and Voice came into being. Two self-interested individuals committed to their own "good ends" and being a hero not in the eyes of the world, but in their own respective stories. This approach also got around the tortured reasoning many "demon lord" stories use to get round the fact that their protags are not acting like proper demon lords. As this story takes a dump on almost every conventional expectation the reader has, I am surprised that its as popular that it has become. For sticking with this story, I thank you. Regards The Author