ã€ŠArcane Exfilã€‹


 Chapter 1: Exfil

    Alexandria, Kingdom of Celdorne

    Good news or bad news? King Armonde Celdor had weighed such matters more times than he could reckon, yet at some point during his long reign, their import had withered. For truly, had there ever been a choice? Always a bitter draught, with scarce a drop of sweetness to ease its way down a regent¡¯s throat.

    Armonde kept his gaze out over his kingdom, his reflection faintly visible on the window. There was little left to stir his spirit. The world had long since lost its color, as had the hope that his reign might be marked by aught but hardship. His Prime Minister stood behind him, though Armonde scarcely took note. With a final glance at the overcast heavens, he steeled himself to choose.

    ¡°The bad first. Get it over with, Alrick.¡±

    Alrick sighed, new lines forming on his already weathered face. ¡°Sire, the Aurelian Empire¡­ refuses our call for aid.¡±

    Of course they did. They had no reason to lift a finger for Celdorne ¨C no reason that wouldn¡¯t serve their precious borderlands. He had expected as much, but hearing it aloud still left a taste as bitter as Marneleaf.

    ¡°And the others?¡±

    Alrick¡¯s next words came out barely above a whisper, though still deafening upon impact. ¡°The Khagarian Empire simply ignored our envoy, and the Elnoir Republic¡­¡± he paused, clearly wrestling with decorum.

    Armonde sighed. ¡°What did they say?¡±

    ¡°That the matter of our ¡®localized skirmish¡¯ hardly merited the disturbance of their resources. They claim it is a threat we can manage.¡±

    What could Armonde do but laugh? A localized skirmish? As if the forces of hell itself could be dismissed as a border dispute. And ¡®Manage!¡¯ What did they know of such matters? Their vast resources, their summoned champions who held the strength of entire armies in one hand ¨C they could afford such carelessness.

    But Celdorne? No, they were the first line, and they would bear the brunt of it alone.

    ¡°They languish in comfort while the storm gathers on our doorstep.¡± How many would die for the arrogance ¨C the complacency ¨C of these distant superpowers? The thought seethed within Armonde.

    The king drew a slow breath, willing his frustration into something more manageable. Losing his composure now would serve no purpose, save to prove that the burden was already too great. There, he had his draught. Now, would the honey be sweet enough to erase the bitter taste? ¡°Well then. What good news have you to offer?¡±

    His trusted minister swallowed, lips tight as he stepped forward. ¡°Sir Fotham¡¯s Office reports that they¡¯ve located suitable heroes for us to summon, though we can afford only one ritual.¡±

    Summoning magic ¨C their final refuge. But what meager candidates might they have summoned forth, given Celdorne¡¯s barren coffers? Had they but the wealth of Aurelia or Khagaria! Oh, such fancies would serve him naught. Armonde held his peace, bidding Alrick to continue.

    ¡°They hold power, though not what the great empires would call heroes,¡± Alrick began, treading carefully. ¡°One is¡­ a ¡®high schooler.¡¯ From the nation of Japan, as summons so oft deliver. But the others ¨C a group of soldiers, well-trained. An elite force of ¡®delta¡¯, from a land called the United States. It, too, is a nation upon Earth, yet we know but scant of it.¡±

    Armonde rested his arms on his knees, leaning forward. ¡°A child, and soldiers. Who else?¡±

    Alrick¡¯s hesitation was slight, but noticeable. ¡°A scholar and a farmer, though neither are suited for the struggle we face.¡± He paused, drawing a breath. ¡°The child, however¡­ the high schooler ¨C he possesses a skill. A power to manipulate time. Not in some grand, world-altering manner, but sufficient to slow or hasten moments as need dictates. We would need to train him, certainly. We can¡¯t gauge its limits, but the potential remains present.¡±

    The king leaned back, shaking his head. ¡°Time¡­ That is dangerous, Alrick. More perilous than the boy can comprehend. And¡­ soldiers? Not knights?¡±

    The minister¡¯s hesitation was no longer present, words coming fluidly out of his mouth. ¡°They are skilled warriors, sire, knights of their own realm sans noble birth. Though they lack the natural magical prowess we oft ascribe to the summons of legend, their mana reserves are remarkable ¨C far surpassing that of most within Celdorne. Our scrying has determined that their skills in combat are commendable. They may not shatter mountains, but their mastery of tactics and familiarity with firearms is formidable. Paired with magic, it just may render them into the aid we need.¡±

    Armonde took a breath. ¡°A child who may bend time, though ignorant of its scope. And soldiers ¨C capable, yet unremarkable compared to the legends of Tenria. The soldiers have no extraordinary gifts¡­ No divine intervention¡­¡±

    Common soldiers and a mere child. Armonde felt the weight of it settle upon him, doubts clouding the clarity he so often forced upon himself. It was preferable to naught, but what hope could such beings offer in the face of a demonic tide?

    And yet ¨C he had seen desperate men achieve the impossible before. Even under Alexander Celdor¡¯s legendary command, it had been ordinary men who held the line, bleeding for a kingdom yet unbuilt, dying for a humanity yet unsaved. Perhaps that was the true nature of Celdorne: not heroes, but those who stood against the dark, armed with nothing but faith and steel, knowing they were all that held the world back from oblivion.

    ¡°Soldiers,¡± he repeated softly. He felt his decisions shifting like the sands of the demon-infested Istrayn wastelands, solidifying the more he pondered. ¡°Not heroes, but still, men of war.¡±

    Alrick nodded, as if they¡¯d already earned his approval. ¡°Indeed, sire. To summon four heroes with but one ritual ¨C it is the most prudent of our options. They may not be legends, but in this great struggle, perhaps these men are precisely who we need.¡±

    Truly, there was no grandeur in this ¨C no tales of gods and legends. Yet he understood: tales mattered little when the time for blood came.

    ¡°Very well. Soldiers, then,¡± Armonde said at last. ¡°When will they be summoned?¡±

    ¡°Ere afternoon on the morrow, sire. We shall have them then.¡±

    ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C

    Khaldat, Al-Jadira

    October 7, 2025

    Accurate intel was the cornerstone of every operation, but it never made the truth any easier to swallow when it pointed to something ugly. And now, standing before the final door, Lieutenant Cole Mercer couldn¡¯t shake the nagging hope that ¨C for once ¨C the intel might be wrong.

    Moving the body of an insurgent aside, he took a slow breath and readied his AK-74M as he stacked up on the wall to the left. Mack fell in behind him, while Miles and Ethan mirrored the move on the right.

    Cole nodded to Miles.

    The team¡¯s breacher aimed his shotgun at the doorknob, angling the barrel almost straight down before squeezing the trigger. Letting the shotgun hang from its sling, Miles swapped to his AKS-74U and kicked the door open before pulling back to the concealment offered by the wall.

    The flashbang followed, right on cue. Mack tossed it right over Cole¡¯s shoulder, the small explosive rolling across the floor inside before detonating with a sharp crack. Any JNI fighters inside would be disoriented, yeah, but not completely incapacitated. Flashbangs weren¡¯t the magic wands Hollywood peddled, but then again, the dipshits inside had probably never tasted one before.

    Somewhere back home, there was probably a PowerPoint ranger getting a hard-on over their ¡®successful implementation of entry protocols¡¯ ¨C textbook Open, Grenade, and Clear. As if blowing shit up was ever that complicated. Being careful not to blow the wrong shit up, on the other hand, was a different story.

    Cole flowed through the doorway first, followed by Ethan. As soon as he entered, he fired three suppressed shots at the left ¨C no subsequent return fire. Ethan¡¯s three shots toward the right garnered the same result. They¡¯d just dropped the only two hostiles in the room.

    ¡°Clear,¡± Cole announced.

    He surveyed the aftermath of his grisly wetwork. Efficient, yeah, but he knew better than to call it beautiful. There was nothing beautiful about this business, no matter how well it was done.

    Two Nadir fighters lay crumpled on the floor, expressions frozen in pain and shock. They were young, probably enough to be his college-age sister¡¯s peers. Cole felt a pang of something as he glanced over their bodies ¨C something that might have been regret in another life. Young, and now dead. Two more names for the endless litany of the fallen, their blood on the hands of Jamaat al-Nadir al-Istiqamah. Damn JNI and their bullshit crusade claiming more kids who should''ve known better.

    Cole then took in the rest of the room: five wide-eyed hostages huddled in the corner, and there it was ¨C the pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance, a reinforced metal container taking up a good portion of the floor space near the large glass windows. This was the exact kind of device they''d been warned about during the briefing. The reinforced casing and the harrowingly exposed lead-lined core confirmed the device¡¯s nature ¨C radiological dispersal.

    He recognized the setup from the slides they¡¯d been shown just hours before. Fuck, it wasn¡¯t some basic-ass IED cobbled together with spare parts, but a bonafide dirty bomb, designed to spread radioactive material across a city - and kill tens of thousands in the process.

    The streets below teemed with a roiling mass of pro-JNI demonstrators that hadn¡¯t been there when they first entered the building. Cole felt his gut twist. All these people, oblivious to the fact that their supposed saviors were about to turn them into radioactive martyrs. Some jihad that was ¨C had a real je ne sais quoi about it. Dying for a cause they barely understood.

    He turned his gaze back to the bomb. Ethan crouched before it, carefully probing the underside with a small inspection mirror while Mack worked on calming down the hostages. Through the silence, the Geiger counter on his belt clicked faintly. By some divine miracle, they weren¡¯t getting cooked any worse than when taking a chest X-ray. It was¡­ unexpected.

    ¡°Walker, how is it?¡± Cole asked.

    Ethan paused, tilting his head as he peered inside a crudely welded access panel and snapped several pictures. ¡°Nasty shit, Mercer. Jury rigged, but smart. Standard wiring, probably hooked up to a primary detonator. Thank God the shielding looks good, at least. 4 hour timer.¡±

    Despite that, Ethan still looked¡­ uncertain. ¡°Alright,¡± Cole replied slowly, ¡°so what¡¯s the issue? Not enough time?¡±

    ¡°Nah, I could get this fucker neutralized in a half hour. The real issue is the shielding. Why¡¯s it this good? Shit don¡¯t make any sense. Everything else¡¯s cobbled together, but not this.¡±

    ¡°Shit¡­¡± Cole felt his heart drop. He tapped the push-to-talk button clipped to his vest, giving a quick update to Command.

    After confirming receipt of the message, he approached Mack, who knelt in front of the hostages. One of them seemed on the verge of a panic attack: a young man with sweat dripping down his face. Losing the gag, he spoke in a voice shakier than that of a celebrity caught red-handed with an obscene amount of baby oil.

    The query was simple: how were they gonna evacuate? Hell, if only the solution were as simple. The man¡¯s eyes darted toward the door, searching for any escape with the desperation of a rat on a sinking ship.

    Mack reached into his pack, pulling out rappel equipment ¨C two pre-cut static ropes, carabiners, harnesses, and some Industrial Descenders. Offering the load-bearing anchors to Cole, Mack addressed the hostage''s question in Arabic. He pointed toward the windows with all the enthusiasm of a man pointing out the emergency exits on a plane.

    He held up one of the harnesses, shaking it slightly as if to demonstrate its purpose. He tightened the straps, a process as comforting as watching a hangman check his knots.

    The young man¡¯s breath hitched. He stiffened as realization dawned: they weren¡¯t taking the easy way down.

    The other hostages reacted about as well as anyone would expect. Their terrified eyes tracked Mack¡¯s every move as he fastened the ropes to the harnesses, acting like he was assembling their personal gallows. They paid attention to the demonstration of the quick-release buckle, at least ¨C though the glazed-over stares suggested that wouldn¡¯t last long.

    Cole got to work on removing the window pane, cutting the sealant while Mack continued reassuring the hostages that they were, in fact, not going to fall to their deaths. It was a nice thought, but between the swarm of insurgents and the threat of getting instant cancer from the dirty bomb, falling might be the kinder option. Truly, they didn¡¯t have much of a choice.

    The sealant finally gave way. As the window loosened, Mack smacked a suction cup lifter onto the glass, securing a rope around it. Pulling back slowly on the glass, they dragged the window backward and laid it down on the floor, clearing the way for the rappel.

    They repeated the process on a second window, opening up space for two lines that stretched to the ground below. Twenty stories up, he could hardly blame the hostages for their dread. Hell, even he felt something in his stomach ¨C vertigo, maybe? A thrill?

    ¡°First two are ready,¡± Mack announced, nodding toward the young man and a second hostage, a woman who looked pale but seemed to be keeping it together.

    Cole secured the harness around the young man. He gave him a reassuring pat on the back. ¡°You¡¯ll be alright.¡±

    The guy blinked, trying to understand the word. Then his eyes flicked nervously to the woman beside him. If there was one thing that transcended language, it was the primal instinct to avoid humiliating oneself in front of a lady. His breath stuttered for a moment, but his posture straightened. The panic hadn¡¯t vanished, not by a long shot, but pride ¨C however fleeting ¨C now held it at bay. He gave Cole a tentative nod, as though convinced that the fall might not kill him after all.

    Cole lowered him over the ledge, the man staring into his own reflection on the windows as he descended. The guy seemed to calm down a bit after dropping a couple stories, but who knew? Once he reached the halfway point, he couldn¡¯t see the guy¡¯s face well enough to tell at all. After a few minutes, he finally reached the ground.

    The man tugged on the rope, stepping back a good distance to let Cole know that he could start working with the next hostage. Down below, one of the local cops escorted him and the woman over to a waiting ambulance.

    The next passenger walked up, a bit nervous but far more composed than the other guy. He forced a small smile. Apparently, he was used to heights, courtesy of a little trip to Dubai. His voice was steady, but there was a crack in it, like he was giving himself a pep talk.

    Skydiving in Dubai. Right. Cole saw through it. A smirk at his side suggested Mack felt the same. The man was clinging to something ¨C anything ¨C to keep the fear at bay. Respectable.

    Cole lowered him without any issue. Feeling the tug, Cole stepped back. After getting the third and fourth hostages down safely, there was only one hostage left ¨C Mack had that covered. Finished with his task at the window, he returned to Ethan.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°How¡¯s it coming?¡± Cole asked, standing just behind him.

    ¡°Almost done, Mercer. I¡¯ve isolated the detonator and disconnected the main charge. No risk of it going off. Just sealing up the core now.¡± The soft hiss of expanding fouling foam followed Ethan¡¯s words.

    It hardened quickly, and he wasted no time applying epoxy over the key access points. The epoxy set fast, completely locking down the core. In the off chance that any Nadirs came up to recover the device before the EOD unit could get here, they¡¯d be straight out of luck.

    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re good,¡± Ethan announced, standing up and dusting off his hands. ¡°I¡¯ll mark it for the recovery team.¡±

    Cole gave a sharp exhale through his nose, not quite a sigh, but close. ¡°Good work. You go on ahead with Mack. We¡¯ll be right behind,¡± Cole said, preparing another update to Command.

    They nodded, preparing to rappel down. Cole stepped up, surveying the crowd below, blissfully unaware sheep bleating for a cause they barely understood. Minutes ago, he¡¯d saved their ungrateful asses from being vaporized. Now? They were the very obstacle that might get him and his team killed. They¡¯d neutralized the bomb only to face this sisyphean fucking nightmare ¨C saving lives just to watch them potentially seal his team¡¯s fate.

    Cole followed behind Ethan. The rush of air as he dropped from the window was invigorating in a way, almost reminding him of the precipice they balanced on ¨C not just physically, but metaphorically. One slip on the tightrope and they¡¯d go splat.

    Quickly disengaging from the rappel gear, he scanned the crowd before him ¨C a mass of vicious eyes, seething. The police were already stretched thin between handling the hostages and securing the building. The cordon holding back the protestors seemed like it was about to collapse.

    Waltzing onto the sidewalk would be a death sentence. They definitely wouldn¡¯t do that. Cole tilted his head to the side, signaling to his men. They retreated into the skyscraper, navigating the empty ground floor. Emerging on the opposite side, he spotted their Holy Grail ¨C a department store.

    Evacuated during the hostage situation, the empty store was just the labyrinth of service doors, emergency exits, and entrances they needed. Passing through the building, they slipped into a side alley, weaving through a maze of dumpsters and trash bags. Somehow, the stench was almost welcoming, especially compared to the invitation they might¡¯ve received earlier if the JNI sheeple back there got past the police.

    ¡°Shitty ass intel,¡± Miles grumbled ¨C the first thing he¡¯d said since they found the bomb. ¡°Ain¡¯t this city s¡¯posed to be under the Jadiran government¡¯s control? The fuck are all these Nadir puppets doin¡¯ crawlin¡¯ around out here?¡±

    There could¡¯ve been any host of reasons, from botched HUMINT to the simple assumption that the Nadirs deliberately showed control in specific neighborhoods to play the city off as ¡®safe.¡¯ Cole could only shrug in response. ¡°Wish I knew. Just hope exfil ain¡¯t compromised.¡±

    The cloaks would probably fool the average person, but even that wouldn¡¯t matter if said person stood close enough to hear him breathing. Yeah, the cloaks provided a thin veneer of anonymity, but the bulky items under them ¨C packs, vests, weapons ¨C weren¡¯t exactly discreet. At best, they were a fragile defense; ¡®cover¡¯ as functional as cardboard. As the tide of pro-JNI demonstrators rose, detection went from an extremely hopeful ¡®maybe not¡¯ to a crushing inevitability.

    Even retracing was a no-go. Forward was the only viable option, however pyrrhic it might prove. Fuck it. He could see the car dealership in the distance, overlooking the park ¨C just a few more blocks and they¡¯d be home free.

    The spinning sign flickered through gaps in the crowd, but the way there felt blocked at every turn. People pressed in on all sides now, moving shoulder to shoulder like it was a packed nightclub. The density forced Cole to thread through them, nudging where he could, pushing where he needed.

    The crowd pressed tighter, his heart thumping harder. And then his heart completely fucking sank.

    ¡°AMREEKAAN!¡±

    The voice came from his right, from a teen pointing a finger at Cole.

    Fuck. He kept his head down and hood up, continuing to push forward. But the damage had already been done. Amreekaan, the voices hissed again, more of the crowd waking up to the four American operators in their midst ¨C four of the very devils the JNI had brainwashed them to hate.

    The crowd thickened, every shove met with another person stepping into their path, intentional or not. He grit his teeth, forcing the frustration back. These civilians weren¡¯t the enemy ¨C not directly.

    But they were just as much a part of the plan as that dirty bomb they¡¯d just disarmed. Human shields, blocking his team¡¯s retreat as a final ¡®fuck you¡¯ from the JNI to any souls unfortunate enough to stop their plan. They wouldn¡¯t be able to accomplish their mission, but they¡¯d be able to trade blows with the U.S. ¨C removing valuable operators from the board.

    And of course, there was no helicopter exfil ¨C the one thing that could¡¯ve gotten them out of here clean. It wasn¡¯t that Command hadn¡¯t considered it ¨C oh, they definitely had. But there was just no way to get a chopper in when half of Jadira¡¯s government leaned toward the JNI, whispering in the same rooms where the U.S. tried to maintain leverage. No way to open up the airspace for a nuclear threat, when that threat had been all but a conspiracy theory until now.

    A few dead Americans? That was just a blip to the powers that be ¨C not worth jeopardizing relations over. The emerging sound of vehicles cemented their sorry situation. They were at the mercy of red tape, praying for action from a Command that was at the mercy of the most asinine politicians and diplomats to ever grace this Earth.

    The vehicles finally approached, pick-up trucks with mounted .50s ¨C Technicals. The sea of people blocking his escape ¨C angry, confused, manipulated ¨C wasn¡¯t something he could just shoot his way through. Evidently, the JNI had no such reservations.

    As the gunmen swiveled their turrets onto the crowd, Cole ducked.

    ¡°GET DOWN!¡±

    He hit the pavement, dragging Miles down with him as the sharp crack of heavy machine gun fire split the air. .50 caliber rounds ripped through flesh and concrete alike, bodies crashing down in a mix of blood and bone. A wet spray splattered across Cole¡¯s arm, the warmth of it seeping into his cloak.

    The crowd erupted into screams, raw panic settling in as they realized what was happening. The demonstration devolved into a human stampede ¨C people pushing, shoving, climbing over each other to get away from the gunfire.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± He wriggled his hand down to his push-to-talk button, careful that it wouldn¡¯t get crushed. ¡°Aegis, Sentinel Actual. Grid 38S RV 130563. Exfil is compromised. We¡¯re pinned down near the intersection of Shari¡¯a Al-Hariri and Shari¡¯a Al-Shaheed. JNI forces opened fire into a crowd of civilians. Heavy civilian casualties. No team casualties yet, but the situation is critical ¨C need immediate fire support and reinforcements to break contact, over.¡±

    Cole adjusted his body, shielding himself from the inevitable as best he could. Weight slammed into him ¨C someone¡¯s knee crushing into his ribs, the wind knocked from his lungs as another body pressed down, trying to use him as leverage to scramble up. His back and chest burned from the impacts as more people fled, some of them stumbling, others outright trampling over him. He gasped, his breath stuck in his throat as the weight piled up.

    ¡°Sentinel Actual, Aegis. Solid copy on all. QRF and fire support are on standby, but we are awaiting confirmation from the Jadiran government to open airspace. EOD teams are en route to confirm the bomb. Hold position and minimize civilian exposure. Prepare for contingencies, but no air assets can engage until clearance is secured. Stay sharp. Aegis, out.¡±

    ¡°Oh, fuckin¡¯ A.¡± He stayed down, instinct overriding the urge to move. The dead weight on top of him shifted slightly, more blood pouring out onto his cloak, soaking it through. As if one blanket of despair wasn¡¯t enough.

    He rolled his head to the side, feeling the blood creeping under his cheek. It wasn¡¯t his. The pavement had become slick, a red sheen coating everything in sight. It wasn¡¯t just blood; it was guts, sweat, dirt; all mixing into a thick slurry that made every inch of the street a deadly slip zone.

    The permeating scent of iron wasn¡¯t any easier to stomach.

    Amidst the chaos, he forced himself to shift the weight off his back and freed his arms.

    The gunfire slowed, then finally stopped. This was it. He scrambled up, the blood-soaked pavement making it harder to keep his balance. The AK-74 in his hands snapped up, locking onto the nearest gunner. The man tried to bring his turret down on Cole, but it was too late.

    One quick burst was all it took. The rounds punched into the gunner¡¯s chest and neck, his body slumping forward and collapsing onto the turret. His dead weight shifted the gun, and the turret shifted wildly to the side. The barrel swung back toward the other JNI forces, the weapon firing briefly and indiscriminately until the dead man¡¯s finger finally fell away from the trigger.

    With a tap from his FAL, Ethan had simultaneously eliminated the gunner on the second technical, though lacking the dramatic chain reaction. Taking advantage of the chaos, they retreated into a nearby cafe, laying down suppressive fire on the remaining JNI forces.

    The shattered windows and overturned tables provided minimal cover, but it was enough for now. Miles swept inside while Cole and Ethan maintained their attention outside, gunning down the insurgents foolish enough to pop their heads out of cover. Cole tapped twice on Ethan¡¯s shoulder, directing him to maintain their defense while he turned to assess the situation.

    He was about to call out orders when he caught sight of Mack, huddled in the corner, kneeling in front of a kid on a chair. Fuck, what the hell had happened? The boy, no more than six or seven, clung to Mack¡¯s side. That was about the age Mack¡¯s kid would¡¯ve been, if not for his wife¡¯s miscarriage.

    The kid was pale, hands gripping Mack¡¯s vest tightly. But there was blood. A deep scarlet, spreading stain soaked the front of the boy¡¯s shirt. Mack lifted the shirt, but it was too much. Even Cole knew ¨C there was nothing they could do to save him.

    Cole placed a hand on his medic¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Mack, we need to move.¡±

    Mack nodded, resting a hand on the boy¡¯s knee before speaking. His tone was gentle, but it was the kind reserved for goodbyes. ¡®Everything is gonna be okay?¡¯ It was a blatant lie, sure, but maybe the kid needed that more than the truth.

    As he stood up, Cole noticed it ¨C a gaping wound on Mack¡¯s side. ¡°Aw, fuck.¡± He quickly turned Mack around, confirming the exit wound on the other side with bitter relief.

    ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving,¡± Mack decided. ¡°You can patch me up later.¡±

    His voice was steady for now, the adrenaline probably carrying him. Still upright, still operational, but Cole knew the window was closing. The blood loss would hit hard soon.

    Mack, always the bleeding heart. Now he was literally bleeding for it ¨C a tragic symmetry, wrapped in shitty irony.

    Miles returned just in time to catch the bad news, but his report brought a bit of a reprieve. ¡°Backside¡¯s clear. There¡¯s a construction site up ahead; too tight for vehicles.¡±

    Cole took it for what it was ¨C a brief opening, but better than nothing. He could tend to Mack once they got there. He turned to Ethan, calling out, ¡°Walker, we¡¯re moving out the back!¡±

    The man already shifted to cover their exit. Cole slung Mack¡¯s arm over his shoulder and swapped to his sidearm, allowing his rifle to hang on its sling. Mack¡¯s weight slowed him down, but they moved fast, pushing through the alley behind the cafe.

    The construction site wasn¡¯t far, just past a crumbling wall and a half-finished block of buildings. Taking down a pair of insurgents, they crossed into the site ¨C an open area littered with piles of concrete blocks, rusted scaffolding, and the skeleton of a garage. It definitely wasn¡¯t ideal cover, but it would suffice for now.

    Cole glanced around ¨C clear for now, but painstakingly temporary as all respites were. The Nadirs would be converging on them soon.

    ¡°Citadel, Sentinel Actual. Grid 38S RV 128563. We¡¯re pinned down near the intersection of Shari¡¯a Al-Hariri and the construction site. One wounded, combat ineffective, requesting immediate CASEVAC and fire support, over.¡±

    The radio hissed back at Cole, the white noise deafening in its indifference, as if mocking the hope he barely allowed himself to feel. Then came the saving grace.

    ¡°Sentinel Actual, Aegis. Airspace cleared. An STS recovery team is en route to your location. ETA is 20 mikes. City is crawling with JNI, recommend holding position until reinforcements arrive. Prepare for CASEVAC and stand by for further instructions. Aegis, out.¡±

    Fucking finally! But 20 fucking minutes? With the Nadirs on their way, in a city supposedly full of them? They were sitting ducks, praying they didn¡¯t get found; praying none of the insurgents from earlier had managed to point out their location before dying.

    Cole turned his attention back to Mack, Ethan and Miles already holding the perimeter. ¡°We got friendlies inbound, but we¡¯re fucked for the next 20. Imma patch you up quick, so lay down, face up, alright?¡±

    Mack nodded, twisting to remove his backpack. Cole accepted it, digging out the Advanced First Aid Kit lodged within.

    ¡°Gauze and Kerlix first, disinfect later,¡± Mack wheezed out.

    Cole nodded, packing the wound with combat gauze. Blood soaked through quickly, but it¡¯d hold for now. Applying pressure, he wrapped the wound tight with the Kerlix roll and secured it all with an ACE bandage.

    Mack¡¯s voice verged on hoarseness, but thank God it still maintained coherency. ¡°Morphine¡­ Inject¡­¡±

    Cole pulled out the morphine injector and jabbed it into Mack¡¯s thigh, then grabbed another. Nah, one was enough. He didn¡¯t want to overdo it just yet.

    Mack groaned. ¡°Epi¡­ keep pressure up.¡±

    He complied, pulling out the epinephrine injector from his kit and pressing it into Mack¡¯s arm. Cole worked as fast as he could, moving onto setting up the saline bag and IV line as pallor crept up to Mack¡¯s face. But¡­ what came after saline?

    Mack seemed to sense what Cole was thinking. His breath was shallow, but he forced the next words out. ¡°TXA¡­ in the kit¡­ prevents clots from breaking down.¡±

    Ethan shouted something from the other side, but Cole couldn¡¯t afford to look. He fished out the vial. Tranexamic acid? He had no clue what the hell it was, but if Mack said to use it, he wasn¡¯t gonna argue. ¡°Fuck it,¡± he muttered, jamming it into the line.

    ¡°Haemaccel now, wit¨C¡± he coughed, ¡°with the saline.¡±

    Cole prepped the haemaccel bag next, gunfire already starting to echo throughout the concrete structure.

    ¡°Alright, now the fent. In my pack,¡± Mack rasped. ¡°ACTIQ¡­ lollipop¡­¡±

    ¡°First time guy¡¯s ever asked me for a lollipop,¡± Cole smirked, almost forcing a laugh. He grabbed the ACTIQ stick, shoving it into Mack¡¯s mouth. ¡°Suck, don¡¯t swallow. This ain¡¯t that kinda party.¡±

    A faint, pained chuckle escaped Mack as he clenched weakly around the stick. The drug worked fast, the lines on his face easing a bit. Mack¡¯s breath hitched again. ¡°Just bought a couple hours¡­ if I¡¯m lucky.¡±

    Shit, a couple of hours? They¡¯d be lucky to make it five minutes. The gunfire grew more intense, a brief lull settling in as Ethan and Miles made it back to his position.

    ¡°How¡¯s it lookin¡¯?¡± Miles asked, positioning himself behind a stack of rebar.

    ¡°Mack¡¯s stabilized, for now. He¡¯ll make it, but,¡± Cole said, glancing down at his watch, ¡°our guys are still ten minutes out.¡±

    ¡°Shit¡­¡± Ethan muttered.

    Miles kept staring forward, breaking the subsequent silence with a sigh. ¡°To Valhalla, then.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s been a helluva ride,¡± Cole mustered up his best pep talk. ¡°If ya really think about it, we basically stopped World War 3. And hey, at least we can get the show on the road with the Jadirans now.¡±

    ¡°Man¡­ Fuck the Jadirans,¡± Mack muttered, slurring every word except fuck, which, unsurprisingly, came out clear as day.

    Cole snorted. ¡°Yeah, fuck the Jadirans.¡±

    As if presenting that exact opportunity on a silver platter, the first wave of JNI fighters poured in, making their way up the garage¡¯s ramp and exterior stairway. This wave, it seemed, had hardly received any training in urban combat ¨C or in any combat, for that matter.

    Cole¡¯s muzzle flashed as three insurgents dropped, bodies crumbling on the concrete ramp. Walker fired over the edge, onto the hapless remnants below who scrambled ¨C with all the futility of resisting the Borg ¨C for cover. The next four ascending the stairway crumpled, Miles dispatching them like hunting easy game.

    Eight minutes left. Of course, the moment Cole felt any sliver of hope, reality immediately crushed it. More tires screeched to a halt outside, and he risked a peek. They¡¯d dealt with the first wave easily enough, but this? It dwarfed it ¨C a force five times the size, with fighters who looked like they''d survived more than a few battlefields.

    ¡°Well,¡± Miles said, finally turning to Cole. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll get this out while I still can. Your sister¡¯s hot as hell.¡±

    Cole ejected a spent magazine, slamming a fresh one in. ¡°Needed certain death to get that one off your chest, huh?¡± He scoffed, ¡°Alright, if we make it back home I¡¯ll be sure to tell her you said that at your funeral.¡±

    Miles smirked, but it simmered as he adopted a more serious tone. ¡°But for real though, it¡¯s an honor to die at your side.¡±

    Well, that was a sentimental side he hadn¡¯t expected out of him. Cole paused as he searched for an appropriate response ¨C something he¡¯d seen in a movie once. ¡°It¡¯s an honor to have lived at yours. All of you.¡±

    A bit cheesy, maybe, but it felt right in his heart. If anyone thought it didn¡¯t fit, fuck ¡®em.

    The wind whipped up suddenly, swirling dust and debris through the garage ¨C and only the garage, curiously enough. Outside, insurgents advanced across the lot, oblivious to the localized maelstrom.

    ¡°The hell?¡± Ethan muttered.

    The swirling intensified, kicking up more dust. Beneath their feet, glowing lines etched themselves into the concrete, a familiarity that sang of countless nights devouring questionable manga and anime.

    Ethan and Miles traded baffled looks, clearly not privy to Cole¡¯s epiphany.

    The air around them bent, warping like heat off Jadiran asphalt. Their world peeled away, unraveling as the light grew.

    A million thoughts overwhelmed Cole. Fuck, what would his sister think? She¡¯d no doubt receive that dreaded visit from uniformed officers, carrying that dreaded folded flag, thrust into the dreaded finality of a memorial service with an empty casket.

    At the same time, he couldn¡¯t ignore the Lord¡¯s truly impeccable timing, and the fact that they¡¯d be getting a second chance ¨C the fact that Mack could yet survive.

    ¡°No fuckin¡¯ wa¨C¡±

    The light consumed them. Everything folded inward, collapsing into that glowing circle.

 Chapter 2: Arrival

    They weren¡¯t dead ¨C not in the conventional sense, anyway. How long had it been? An instant? A day? The last thing he remembered was gunfire, Miles wanting to fuck his sister, and a mob of zealots chasing martyrdom. Now, it was silent stone underfoot, the sudden absence of the Jadiran chaos both disorienting and, oddly enough, a relief. That, and a strange pressure point along his spine that hadn¡¯t been there before.

    Just as he¡¯d figured, they¡¯d been isekai¡¯d. Of course, it could be one of those FUBAR versions where being summoned was a fate worse than death, but even that beat their last stand at the garage. Better odds for him and, thank God, for Mack. He¡¯d still need real treatment, but here, at least, they had a shot.

    Cole took in the room. Stone walls, bare, save for the glowing inscriptions carved into the surface. Runes, if he had to guess. They didn¡¯t mean much to him, but they were obviously more than decoration. Likely some kind of defense?

    The guards were another story. They wore scaled brigandine armor, reinforced with composite layering that looked built to absorb impacts as much as deflect them. Half knight, half riflemen, they were equipped for both close combat and ranged attack ¨C odd, but perhaps even necessary given the evidential existence of magic. Above all, their gear had the unmistakable look of standardization: identical armor, rifles of the same model. Somebody had clearly put some serious thought into this setup.

    ¡°Yo, what the actual fuck?¡± Miles muttered beside them. His voice sounded tense as shit, but the lack of reaction from the guards suggested he¡¯d at least kept most of his cool.

    Apparently, the guards had prepared for the summoning quite well. They stood in a loose formation, hands on weapons but pointed down; ready, but not aggressive. The guards struck a balance: vigilant enough to manage any unexpected hostility, yet restrained to avoid provoking it. Their numbers and firepower rendered any thought of forcing an exit futile. But then, given their stance and respectful demeanor, it didn¡¯t seem Cole would need that option anyway.

    Cole kept his stance mirrored to theirs: rifle at the low ready, not aiming. A quick glance confirmed Ethan and Miles had caught on as well, following his lead. Discipline kept them sharp and ready ¨C as much as possible for guys who¡¯d just been isekai¡¯d. No doubt fighting through shock worse than Cole¡¯s, they spread out to form a loose cordon around Mack.

    Directly before them stood a man who didn¡¯t match the guards. Middle-aged, dressed like some court official from a bygone era, he projected a calm authority. His stance was open, hand visible and empty, almost like a police negotiator sizing up a standoff. A diplomat, maybe, or something similar.

    From the lack of hostility, it seemed like they were about to be crowned heroes. But Cole knew better than to buy into the pageantry; he¡¯d seen enough isekai to know settings like these had a habit of chewing up saviors and spitting out scapegoats. Sure, letting anime guide his thinking felt a bit absurd, but the caution was sound ¨C and his instincts backed it up. ¡°Identify yourselves.¡±

    ¡°Sir Fotham Fallamore, Director of Thaumaturgy, at your service, gentlemen.¡± The man gave a light bow, answering in English. Naturally. After all, what was an isekai without a built-in autotranslator? The man¡¯s lips synced perfectly with the words, oddly enough. So many questions, but Cole could pick it apart later; top priority was getting a read on this situation.

    He continued, ¡°On behalf of the Kingdom of Celdorne, I welcome you to the planet of Tenria. I shall trust that you will pardon this sudden change of scene ¨C though I must think, given the peril you left behind, that it might yet prove something of a reprieve.¡±

    A reprieve. So he knew. That meant this wasn¡¯t some blind summoning ritual; they were handpicked. How flattering. And the way Fotham spoke, with that polished, genteel elegance? Well, Cole could appreciate the nuance. It took skill to convey gratitude and expectation all in one breath.

    ¡°His Majesty, King Armonde Celdor, as you might expect, extends his deepest gratitude for your timely appearance here, though I imagine you find yourselves drawn in rather less willingly than you would prefer.¡±

    Cole felt a scoff bubbling inside him. Less willingly was a hell of an understatement, but he had to admit, they were alive. While he could see the framing of this gratitude ¨C a gambit in diplomatic parlance ¨C it was hard to deny that they owed some thanks. There was a debt here, however unasked-for.

    ¡°Nevertheless, here we are, bound together by circumstance, improbable though it may be. We shall, of course, see to your companion¡¯s recovery without delay ¨C a small token of goodwill, if you will. One which, I daresay, you might recall when we speak further on matters of service you may render to the Crown. And once he is settled, rest assured, I shall gladly explain all that has transpired to bring you hither, as far as knowledge permits.¡±

    So that was the game: a gesture of goodwill, coupled with a request dressed in decorum. How convenient they had to get summoned at the paradoxically worst and best time possible. Still, Cole respected the finesse. They¡¯d bought his team¡¯s lives with magic, and now the tab was due. But for Mack¡¯s sake, he could play along, let them do their ¡®token of goodwill¡¯, and then get the lay of the land. Gratitude wasn¡¯t blind, after all, and he¡¯d make sure they held onto enough leverage to navigate this.

    But¡­ how exactly were they gonna ¡®see to¡¯ Mack¡¯s recovery? Magic? It sounded great in theory, but there was no way he¡¯d trust it implicitly; too many variables. He had no idea how they handled the basics of wound care. Maybe they had germ theory. Maybe they used magic in place of disinfectants, or maybe they didn¡¯t bother at all, assuming the spells took care of it.

    And what about debris? The bullet that hit Mack passed straight through, but if it hadn¡¯t? If they thought ¡®healing¡¯ meant just sealing the skin, that might trap all sorts of foreign particles inside. Past that, being able to heal tissue didn¡¯t mean they¡¯d catch internal issues like bleeding or damaged nerves. A quick fix wouldn¡¯t do Mack any favors if they missed something deeper.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Cole conceded. ¡°Let me clean the wound first. I ain¡¯t letting you do a thing, either ¨C not until I know exactly what you intend to do.¡±

    Fotham offered a slight smile. ¡°Our healing, I grant you, may appear unconventional to you. But I assure you, it¡¯s quite comprehensive. We address the wound in its entirety ¨C both seen and unseen harms, if you will. But by all means, tend to your companion as you see fit. I¡¯d think no less of it.¡±

    Cole peeled back Mack¡¯s bandaging. Blood started seeping out again, filling the air with the scent of iron. At least it wasn¡¯t bright red; no arterial spray. He pressed gauze over it, applying enough pressure to slow the bleed but not too much to cause more damage. Grabbing the saline, he flushed the wound.

    Everything seemed fine so far ¨C aside from the clear shock and blood loss. He then applied the disinfectant, which elicited a short cough from Fotham. Cole ignored it, focusing on the wound. After coating the area thoroughly, he removed the bloodied bandages, clearing the way for the healers.

    It was risky, trusting them to this extent, but there was no other option. Cole understood first aid as well as any other operator, but he was no medic, and he was certainly no surgeon. The only viable option, as much as he disliked it, was to gamble with magic. He stepped back, giving Fotham a nod.

    The two healers approached: an older guy who looked like he¡¯d seen his fair share of battlefields, and a blonde girl with pointy ears ¨C an elf, if he was seeing things right ¨C who looked just out of her twenties. Then again, if she was an elf, who knew what that meant. Cole figured the older guy was the lead, but it was the girl who moved in, hands aglow with a soft white light. She held her hand over the cleaned wound while the older guy kept the region isolated with barriers. Small particles floated upward ¨C dead skin, debris that the flush missed.

    It was a small detail, but it at least showed they had protocol. Thorough, yes ¨C a comfort of sorts. But that didn¡¯t mean he could trust the process. No gloves? Concerning, but maybe they didn¡¯t need any.

    As the light shifted from white to green, the skin around the wound began to knit itself together.

    ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± Ethan breathed, turning slightly away, yet still drawn to it ¨C like watching a LiveLeak video.

    Miles, apparently, wasn¡¯t spared from it either. ¡°Hell, that ain¡¯t right.¡±

    The process was far from the clean, antiseptic affair of sci-fi or the pleasant warmth of the fictional magic he¡¯d been exposed to. Shit, this was biology laid bare, accelerated to a nauseating degree. Tendrils of red snaked through the wound, layers of tissue writhing and fusing over them like hateful flesh.

    He¡¯d seen his fair share of gore ¨C hell, he¡¯d caused plenty of it. But this little foray into body horror easily took the cake as some of the most grotesque shit he had ever seen. And the kicker? Where moments ago there''d been a gaping wound, now there was only unblemished skin.

    Efficient? Sure. Effective? Terrifyingly so. Easy on the eyes? Fuck no. What unsettled him even more was how easily magic dismantled the laws of physics. It¡¯d be less disturbing, of course, if Cole could do the same. Could he?

    The glow faded from the girl¡¯s hands, magic dissipating like mist. Mack¡¯s chest rose faintly ¨C breathing, but barely. His abdomen looked good as new, yet he lay there, still looking one foot in the grave.

    Logic dictated that if they could conjure new tissue, new blood shouldn¡¯t be an issue. Cells were cells, after all. So why did Mack look like he was running on empty?If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The despondent look on the younger healer¡¯s face landed hard. She quickly suppressed it, but the truth was already laid bare.

    Cole gauged his teammates¡¯ reactions, then turned back to the blonde. ¡°How long is he gonna be like this for?¡±

    ¡°I cannot yet say. The procedure taxed his body greatly; it¡¯s not unheard of for patients to lapse into such states after surviving injuries as severe as his.¡±

    The healer continued, apparently catching his frown. She explained, ¡°Regrettably, it is not without consequence. It shall take some time ere he is restored in full. His faculties have thus¡­ receded, as it were. Yet fear not; these episodes of profound lethargy are oft attendant upon recovery from injuries nigh unto death.¡±

    Profound lethargy? The linguistics of this place struck Cole as a bit strange, possibly archaic, but he could parse it well enough. To his knowledge, there was only one condition that matched that description.

    Cole looked down at Mack. He looked worse than he had in that cafe, sallow and sunk into himself. ¡°A coma, then? So all we need to do is just¡­ wait? And he¡¯ll be fine?¡±

    The woman nodded. ¡°Most recover within a month. Might we bring him to the infirmary?¡±

    As if he had any other choice. ¡°Lead the way,¡± Cole sighed.

    The two healers lifted Mack with an ease that bordered on the absurd, 200-odd pounds rendered inconsequential. The older guy especially; he shouldn¡¯t have been able to manage it, not without straining. Instead, they barely shifted their stance, the only clue a faint glow outlining their bodies as they set Mack on a stretcher. Some sort of strengthening magic, maybe.

    Cole signaled Ethan and Miles, and they fell in behind the procession as guests, with Fotham and a handful of knights escorting them. They exited the barren summoning chamber, a structure so fortified it might as well have been a citadel unto itself. The sheer concentration of guards and magical devices spoke volumes about the Celdornians and their caution, playing several roles ¨C a show of force, intimidation, and especially containment. It was real prudent of them, given the inherent risks of yanking unknown entities across realities.

    The winding corridors, all lacking windows or any external reference point, only validated the idea further. True, it was a damn fine display of defensive architecture, but it was hardly conducive to building trust with one¡¯s interdimensional guests. It was hardly the ideal backdrop for diplomatic discourse, either. Still, beggars couldn¡¯t be choosers, and Cole had to start somewhere.

    ¡°So, Sir Fotham, looks like you¡¯ve held up your end. Let¡¯s get straight to it, then. Why¡¯d you summon us? Anything you¡¯re allowed to tell us for this little t¨ºte-¨¤-t¨ºte.¡±

    Fotham smiled. ¡°Your perspicacity does you credit, Hero. Rest assured, I¡¯ll be as forthcoming as circumstances allow. To answer you directly, we face an existential threat ¨C a demonic incursion. They seek the destruction of mankind. We¡¯ve several years to prepare, to ready ourselves.¡±

    Summoned as the kingdom¡¯s personal deus ex machina, brought from one battle to the next. He almost wanted to ask if it was optional; if he could spelunk away. But hoping for a slice-of-life at this stage was, admittedly, wishful thinking. ¡°And that¡¯s where we come in, I take it?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Fotham replied. ¡°Every century, a new Demon Lord rallies his hordes against us. Our preparations this time required additional assistance.¡±

    Cole felt his lips curl into what probably came off as a rather unpleasant smile. ¡°Huh, and you just so happened to procure arguably the best fighting force on Earth. What, did you get us on sale, or are we just that good of an investment?¡±

    ¡°I suppose one might contend so. Quality, after all, oft surpasses mere quantity, no?¡±

    Cole eyed Ethan and Miles, searching for a read. Ethan¡¯s response was restrained as usual ¨C a tight-lipped nod, like he was agreeing to a bad bet. Miles, though, jumped right in. ¡°Hell¡­ I¡¯m guessin¡¯ a ¡®thanks, but no thanks¡¯ ain¡¯t exactly on the table neither, is it?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I suppose we could see you returned, if that be your inquiry. Though I dare say you¡¯d find yourselves precisely where you began, with nary a moment¡¯s difference. One wonders if that would truly satisfy your curiosity ¨C or merely prove an exercise in futility, no?¡±

    Right. So, basically a death sentence. It was a Hobson¡¯s choice in the purest sense ¨C not that he¡¯d expected otherwise. Cole studied Fotham¡¯s face for any hint of deception. ¡°Got it. Stay here and fight your demons, or go back and die immediately. Hell of a choice, I must say.¡±

    Was he lying? Maybe, maybe not. That was the one thing he hated about diplomats and spooks alike ¨C they didn''t just have the best poker faces around; they showed the world exactly what they wanted it to see. It was impossible to get reliable intelligence out of them; no lie, no truth, not even a half-truth. Just a whole lot of nothing.

    Fotham tilted his head in acknowledgment, but he clearly had a comeback ready. ¡°Yes, I suppose it might seem a touch dramatic from your perspective. But I assure you, you¡¯re at liberty to decline our proposal, should you desire."

    Ethan finally spoke up. ¡°So we can just walk away? No obligations, no strings attached?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you may walk away if you like,¡± Fotham replied, waving a hand with what looked like indifference, though Cole doubted he was half as relaxed as he wanted to seem. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to live as you please here in Celdorne. I¡¯d only caution that when the demons arrive ¨C and they will ¨C they shan¡¯t be selective in their slaughter. You¡¯d be fighting for survival in a world reduced to ashes, but do feel free to opt for that quaint sort of freedom.¡±

    Cole frowned. It seemed like they really did have no other option. ¡°Fight for a world that could still be saved, or wander off and watch it burn around us.¡±

    ¡°Same shit, different toilet,¡± Miles grumbled. ¡°Hajis for demons? Hell, just another fancy way of sayin¡¯ we ain¡¯t got a choice.¡±

    ¡°Think of it less as an ultimatum and more as a¡­ courtesy. We offer you the chance to make a difference, to prevent the demons from leveling every last corner of this realm. Should you refuse, of course, you¡¯d be left to brave the aftermath. But I¡¯d wager you wouldn¡¯t much care for the scenery.¡±

    Spotting the first window they¡¯d seen since their arrival, they reached the infirmary at last. Fotham and his guards stepped to the sides, permitting their entry.

    A chill met them as they entered, drawing Cole¡¯s gaze upward. Spheres lined the walls, smooth and linked by copper pipes that led to a box mounted outside one of the windows. A cooling system, evidently ¨C pretty damn pragmatic for a world seemingly enamored with the arcane. At least they understood the value of keeping things cool. Great for infection control, and not a bad perk for summer and food storage, either.

    The floor of the infirmary itself was lined with cots, all etched with runes, likely enchanted for healing. Well, if it worked, it worked. Most of the tools looked familiar enough ¨C the scalpels and vials, anyway. Cole could hardly guess at what the fluids in said vials might be for, or what the crystalline rings on a corner table were supposed to do.

    The healers eased Mack down on one of the cots, the older guy leaving to tend to another patient while the blonde elf immediately checked his eyes with ungloved hands. Honestly, it still felt off, a jarring deviation from ingrained protocol. But hey, maybe they really did know what they were doing. Their earlier performance ¨C the magic cleansing, the isolation barriers, hell, even the cooling and ventilation in this room ¨C all pointed to a grasp of germ theory that, while primitive by modern standards, was functional enough.

    Ethan walked up, standing over Mack¡¯s unconscious form. He looked at the elf. ¡°You said he just needed a month of rest, right?¡±

    The girl gave a reassuring smile, the same kind doctors used to calm a worried relative. ¡°Yes, and fear not, he will have our full attention as he recovers. Our healers attend at all hours. Should there be any change, you¡¯ll be informed without delay.¡±

    Cole glanced down at Mack. It was all up to his body and the healers now. ¡°Alright,¡± he sighed, returning to the elf. ¡°Thank you, Doctor uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Elina Gracer,¡± the girl said, offering a smile. ¡°Just call me Elina.¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you, Elina,¡± Cole said, giving a nod to Miles and Ethan.

    As they regrouped, Miles addressed Fotham. ¡°Alright. So what¡¯re we in for with this King of yours? Fair warnin¡¯, I ain¡¯t got the slightest clue about all that noble etiquette business. I¡¯d rather not get myself axed on my first day here.¡±

    ¡°You have little to worry about, provided you observe even the slightest modicum of civility. His Majesty, you see, appreciates frankness ¨C by all means, speak freely. Of course, do not neglect proper decorum. Hence, it is proper to address him as ¡®Your Majesty.¡¯

    ¡°Got it. Anything else?¡± Cole asked.

    ¡°Should you accept the King¡¯s proposition, you shall find Celdorne quite prepared to cultivate your talents. You will be trained not only in combat, but in the use and control of your latent magic. Further, you¡¯ll be instructed in the fundamental aspects of our kingdom¡¯s culture ¨C its customs, currency, written language, and other necessities that will enable your adaptation. All will prepare you for your role as Slayers under the Office of Threat Assessment and Control.¡±

    Cole cocked an eyebrow. Well, that wasn¡¯t too bad, all things considered. Fotham¡¯s little info dump was as revealing in its omissions as its admissions. Generosity was just a veil. If they were willing to invest this much in them, the demons must be quite the shitshow. At least the JNI killed their targets quickly. No doubt they¡¯d soon be wishing they¡¯d taken the offer to return home.

    ¡°And if we say no?¡±

    Fotham shrugged. ¡°Well, my offer of citizenship was entirely sincere. You would receive a reimbursement sufficient to establish yourselves comfortably. You would, of course, be at liberty to pursue a life of your choosing, though without the resources and stature accorded to Slayers.¡±

    After a pause, Fotham continued. ¡°Regardless of the path you choose, rest assured, your man shall receive our full care until he is entirely restored.¡±

    Quite the info dump to process, and with those opulent double doors looming ahead, time to let it sink in was at a premium. Par for the course, really ¨C overload the new arrivals with exposition, then whisk them off before they could reason it out. Cole could only hope His Majesty would deign to give them at least a day to reflect.

    Though that, of course, hinged on the rather optimistic assumption that the King gave two shits about their thoughts on the matter. After all, why risk the new heroes getting cold feet? Far simpler to present their glorious destiny as a fait accompli.

    One small concession at a time ¨C that was Fotham¡¯s game. Heal the dying friend, earn the trust, then oh-so-casually suggest they might want to look less like a blood-spattered death squad before their royal debut. Fair enough. Cole could definitely respect that.

    The military-style garments were a nice touch. Practical enough as a replacement for their fatigues, proper enough for court, and just happened to make them look like they already belonged. They¡¯d keep their tactical gear, naturally ¨C that wasn¡¯t up for negotiation, and their gracious host knew better than to push that particular envelope. The opportunity to wash away all that blood, on the other hand, was an offer Cole readily accepted.

    And naturally, their little makeover funneled them into whatever Fotham had orchestrated. Look the part, play the part, become the part ¨C all before they¡¯d officially agreed to anything. Well, at least they wouldn¡¯t have to fuck up the first impression by looking like murder hobos from some edgelord¡¯s manhwa.

    As they arrived, two sentries stepped forward, pushing the doors open.

    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Fotham said, stepping aside, ¡°His Majesty awaits.¡±

 Chapter 3: Celdorne

    Each new sight really lightened Cole''s opinion of Celdorne. A throne room, historically, should represent power; architectural dick-measuring rendered in marble and gold leaf. But the chokepoint past the doors and the firing slits overhead suggested someone who understood the difference between showing power and keeping it. Not much of a surprise considering the practicality of the interior design in the summoning chamber and the infirmary.

    Similarly, the king defied easy categorization. Those ears gave away elven blood ¨C shorter than the healer¡¯s but distinctly pointed ¨C which made his apparent age a puzzle. Middle-aged by human standards, hair graying at the temples, but half-elven biology threw all those markers into question. Even his authority broke the monarchical playbook. Instead of some ostentatious crown, he wore just a simple circlet, though the sheen of the metal and the way those inset gems caught the light suggested ¡®simple¡¯ might be relative when it came to magical enhancements.

    Either way, he had the look of someone who¡¯d long since dispensed with ceremonial bullshit in favor of getting things done. Well, it basically tracked with everything else so far.

    ¡°At last. I had wondered what manner of soldiers might answer our call.¡± Not exactly the warmest welcome, but then again, Cole doubted anyone felt particularly cheerful about this arrangement. ¡°I am Armonde Celdor, King of Celdorne. And you are?¡±

    Cole bowed. ¡°Lieutenant Cole Mercer of the United States Army, Your Majesty. With me are Sergeants Miles Garrett and Ethan Walker.¡±

    ¡°You may raise your heads. I trust Director Fallamore has explained something of our situation?¡±

    ¡°He has, Your Majesty.¡±

    When Armonde spoke again, it was with the direct attention of a commander evaluating troops instead of a king entertaining guests. ¡°You would not be the first to stand against the tide. But I would hear your thoughts on the matter.¡±

    Cole had to admire the king¡¯s technique ¨C skip past with the whole ¡®will you help us¡¯ dialogue. Create the illusion of choice while boxing them into the desired outcome. Though really, what choice was there?

    Certain death versus a hero¡¯s welcome ¨C obvious enough, but he still wanted to think it through. The right answer wouldn¡¯t change by morning, but the best decisions were the ones he could still defend after a night¡¯s sleep.

    ¡°We¡¯d like some time to think it over,¡± Cole said.

    The faint smile that crossed the King¡¯s face suggested he¡¯d expected as much. ¡°Of course. Take what time you require to reach your decision.¡± He gestured to Fotham. ¡°In the meantime, Director Fallamore shall show you about the grounds and ¨C rather more consequential ¨C determine the extent of your magic.¡±

    Magic. Right. After all those late nights of isekai, the chance to actually test his own magical potential¡­ Funny how that thought alone could almost make him forget his family would have to bury an empty coffin. Almost.

    ¡°The guest wing stands ready for you; you may select your own chambers,¡± Armonde continued. ¡°Your servants will bring your evening meal there. The Scrying Pane upon the wall acts as a window between us. Should word arrive of your companion in the infirmary, or should you wish to speak, we may converse through it. Take the night to consider. We shall meet again on the morrow.¡±

    A Scrying Pane, huh? Magical FaceTime sounded real useful, even before considering the implications of real-time communication in warfare. Somehow, it was both a blessing and a curse being presented with a fait accompli like this; less time racking their brains over a decision, more time analyzing what they had to work with.

    Cole bowed, following the Director¡¯s lead.

    ¡°Man.¡± Miles¡¯ voice was quiet as they exited the throne room. ¡°Mack¡¯s gonna lose his shit when he wakes up. All them D&D seshes, and now¡­ hell, we¡¯re actually gettin¡¯ tested for magic.¡±

    Cole chuckled, almost needing to force it. The comment landed¡­ differently than intended. Everyone caught the ¡®when.¡¯ But at least it gave them something to think about ¨C another distraction from the reality that now faced them.

    Cole remembered how Mack would go on about magic theory in his games, especially the one time he stuck a ring of enlargement in front of his gun. He¡¯d probably have a thousand questions about how magic worked here. Probably? Shit, definitely.

    Turning the corner and seeing the aesthetics of the hallways shift from dark stone to comfortable wood brought Cole back to the present. He addressed Fotham, ¡°So, Director, how exactly does one measure magical potential?¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Fotham led them down the wood-paneled corridor. Honestly, the atmosphere wouldn¡¯t look out of place in one of those old universities ¨C Harvard, Oxford, and such. ¡°We find ourselves obliged to make use of an apparatus called a manameter ¨C being no more elaborate than a sequence of graduated chambers which measures the concentration of mana.¡±

    Well, that was different. Usually these scenarios involved touching some glowing crystal ball that lit up with convenient color-coding. The term ¡®manameter¡¯ suggested something far more precise. Celdorne¡¯s fascination with Victorian methodology was starting to read less like an aesthetic choice and more like fundamental principle. Not that Cole would complain; in fact, it ranked among the few redeeming features of this impromptu isekai.

    ¡°The procedure itself is, I assure you, possessed of an almost elegant simplicity: you need only cast a barrier spell at a prescribed distance while this clever little device performs its measurement. We¡¯ve multiple safeguards to ensure the pressure of any mana does not result in a shower of glass.¡±

    They stopped at a door with a brass placard. The foreign script provided the first tangible limitation to the translation magic that had gotten them smoothly through first contact. Perhaps Fotham¡¯s offer to teach them about Celdorne¡¯s culture wasn¡¯t mere courtesy after all.

    Beyond the placard, and despite the castle¡¯s medieval trappings, lay a decidedly academic space. Metal-reinforced walls and copper-like mesh across the windows hinted at some form of isolation ¨C probably from ambient magic, given the context. The familiar shapes of thermometers and barometers along one wall suggested environmental monitoring - whatever that purple liquid was, it still had to follow basic physics.

    A tall glass instrument dominated the far corner: a series of seven identical bulbs connected vertically, rising from a base reservoir where the measurement fluid sat inert. Each bulb bore three distinct markings, likely indicating ranges, given how the liquid would need to fill one chamber before overflowing to the next.

    A simple line marked the floor three feet from the device, also marked with unknown numerals. The attention to detail tracked with everything else they''d seen so far.

    ¡°As with all matters of precision,¡± Fotham said, indicating the line, ¡°we find ourselves bound by standardization. Now then ¨C shall we address the barrier spell itself before proceeding to any tests? One ought to begin with fundamentals, I dare say.¡±

    Cole gave him a nod.

    The Director brought them to a series of anatomical diagrams along the wall. ¡°The manipulation of mana, you see, stems from a particular gland near the spine ¨C the nerves directing its secretions while the blood bears its influence throughout one¡¯s person. Not unlike the way fear or excitement spreads its effects through the body, if you take my meaning.¡±

    The diagrams showed cross-sections of human anatomy ¨C someone had clearly indulged in a rather excessive number of dissections to achieve this level of detail. Though the alien labels meant nothing, Fotham¡¯s earlier gestures made the subject clear enough.

    The weird ass pressure point he¡¯d felt since arriving? It just so happened to coincide right where their Victorian anatomists had sketched an auxiliary organ near the spine. A mana gland. What the fuck? The summoning had just casually rewritten their biology?

    Cole sighed. At least they were getting proper documentation of their modifications, though he''d have preferred a simple system interface at this point. Seeing his INT and STR would¡¯ve been far less existentially concerning than spontaneous organ generation. Judging from their looks, his buddies probably thought the same.

    Fotham didn¡¯t seem to care much for Ethan¡¯s thousand-yard stare. ¡°You¡¯ll find that magic depends rather intimately on one¡¯s capacity for visualization. Some mages need only think to shape their spells, while others require the structure of proper incantations. Rather like music, if you will ¨C most shall find themselves bound to their sheets. Others, more fortunately endowed, might hear the entire symphony in their minds.¡±

    ¡°Observe, if you would, the formation of a simple barrier.¡±

    A faint distortion rippled through the air, reminiscent of heat waves off summer asphalt. It started to emit a subtle blue light, as if applying a glow filter to reality. The effect stabilized into a reticulated pattern ¨C interlocking hexagons, translucent but distinct. The purple liquid in the manameter rose smoothly through the first bulb, settling just past the second marking.

    ¡°This imagination, you understand, serves as both instrument and orchestration in this singular arrangement. Though I suppose those unfortunate souls who cannot summon even a whisper of melody in their minds shall find themselves forever in the audience, so to speak.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The barrier shifted under Fotham¡¯s direction ¨C tilting, contracting, expanding like someone was messing around with a model in AutoCAD or Blender. Each transformation maintained that same hexagonal stability, though the patterns flowed and redistributed with each change. The manameter, throughout all this, saw only the smallest of fluctuations.

    ¡°To form such a barrier, first you must sense your mana. You¡¯ll find it rather like becoming aware of your pulse, though in this case, you¡¯re seeking a particular warmth of current flowing through your nerves.¡±

    Cole focused on his arm, trying to isolate any sensation that wasn¡¯t just normal muscle tension or blood flow. There ¨C something different. Turns out Fotham wasn¡¯t bullshitting; it was a warmth in his blood that seemed to respond to his nerve impulses, flowing from that new organ. Kinda like adrenaline, but¡­ controllable somehow.

    ¡°Having found that sensation, direct it outward through your arm, as if pressing against something unseen.¡±

    It felt truly strange, about the same level as trying to control each individual toe. Yet, there was a natural feel to it. The sensation intensified and spread across his arm. As he built up the energy, he caught new diagrams on the wall ¨C five sequential sketches showing the progression of barrier magic. First figure radiating waves, then containing them before stretching it into a plane.

    ¡°You shall feel resistance as the mana takes form. Picture that resistance shaping itself ¨C rather like cupping water in your hands, but not overflowing. Allow your mana to find its natural form, much as water seeks its sphere.¡±

    Cole was nearly on the verge of asking why Fotham didn¡¯t bother starting with verbal incantations when the air in front of his arm rippled. The man smiled. Well, if this was a test, then Cole sure as hell wasn¡¯t gonna fail it.

    ¡°Now then, visualize the pattern as it forms, much as ice spreading across a winter pond. The more clearly you hold that image in mind, the more readily your mana shall align.¡±

    Right. Like the fourth diagram ¨C the transformation from compressed energy to crystalline structure. The distortion wavered as Cole tried to find that point. Not quite ice forming on a pond; more like those videos of ferrofluid snapping into patterns under magnetic fields. The air shimmered, the plane of mana almost settling into geometry, then destabilized again.

    Glancing to his sides, Miles seemed to be around the same stage, whereas Ethan had already formed his very own barrier. Not surprising, given the level of spatial visualization that bomb disposal demanded.

    Cole took a breath before trying again. The manometer¡¯s purple liquid oscillated with their attempts. Maintaining this kind of precise pressure while simultaneously drawing more unknown energy through his system required nothing short of his full concentration.

    Then, it clicked. Cymatics ¨C those elaborate patterns formed by sound frequencies. The barrier¡¯s hexagonal structure suddenly seemed less arbitrary. If mana behaved anything like other wave phenomena, those patterns represented points of stability. Sort of like how blast waves created predictable patterns, except this was holding a standing wave in place instead of letting it propagate outward. Though that raised the question of what happened when the resonance broke down.

    The thought barely finished forming. Cole¡¯s barrier snapped into place ¨C a short wall composed of mana arranged in a honeycomb lattice. Maintaining resonance, he realized, was basically just holding a sustained note. Break concentration, lose the frequency, lose the barrier.

    A brief glimmer to his left flared up. Miles had finally gotten his pattern locked.

    ¡°Excellent progress, gentlemen.¡± Fotham''s pleased expression carried the same quiet pride Cole had seen in his old drill instructors ¨C the ones who''d set up damn near impossible challenges just to watch their trainees rise to meet them. ¡°Now then, shall we proceed with proper measurement?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Cole said.

    ¡°If you would, Sergeant Walker.¡± Fotham indicated the marked line before the manameter. ¡°Direct as much mana as you can summon into your barrier. One must have a proper measure of your capacity, you see.¡±

    The purple liquid responded the moment Ethan took position, climbing smoothly through the first bulb and into the second. Foreign numerals aside, the progression seemed logical enough. Had to be some inverse square relationship at play, given how particular they were about that three-foot mark.

    The fluid kept rising as Ethan held his barrier. No shock there ¨C he¡¯d been the first to get it right. This kind of visualization probably felt like a vacation compared to picturing bomb internals. By the time it pushed through the third bulb and settled near the first mark of the fourth, Cole had already done the math.

    ¡°Level ten,¡± Fotham nodded, writing something in a notebook. The repeating patterns in their numerals had suggested base ten. Nice to have confirmation.

    ¡°Ten outta twenty huh?¡± Ethan grinned. ¡°Yeah, guess I¡¯ll take that.¡±

    Mack sure as hell would love this. Hell, it¡¯d be pretty poetic ¨C rather, funny as shit ¨C if their resident enthusiast turned out to have the most pedestrian metrics, but right now, Cole had more pressing concerns. The imminent assessment of his own magical aptitude weighed on him. He wouldn¡¯t ask for much; manifesting some absurd statistical outlier like any other isekai protagonist would be great, but he¡¯d settle for demonstrably competent.

    Though given Celdorne¡¯s apparent penchant for expedited integration, he doubted they¡¯d get much time to dwell on the results either way. All the time in the world to make it a pissing contest with the boys, though.

    ¡°Lieutenant?¡± Moment of truth. Time to find out just what the summoning had given him.

    Cole took position. Right, then ¨C flood the barrier with every bit of mana he could muster. The fluid rose through the first bulb almost immediately, his barrier snapping into that hexagonal resonance without the earlier wobble. Practice made perfect, apparently.

    The second chamber filled as he pushed harder. Different sensation now, like pressing against an invisible wall while that warmth flooded through his nervous system. His barrier flickered brighter, patterns growing more distinct as he forced more power through them. The liquid crept into the third chamber.

    More. The warmth flowed through his body as he channeled everything he had. Past Ethan''s mark now, climbing toward the second line of the fourth bulb. Cole grit his teeth, maintaining that perfect resonance even as the energy threatened to destabilize.

    The fluid finally settled.

    ¡°Level twelve.¡± Was that satisfaction on Fotham¡¯s face?

    Cole held back a smirk. Not bad for a nice little tour de force. Definitely not bad, considering the high probability of the alternative level 1 cliche. Now to see what Miles could do.

    Miles took his position, expression focused as he formed his barrier. The liquid climbed steadily through the chambers, finally settling at the first mark of the fourth bulb.

    ¡°Level ten.¡± Fotham nodded, then lowered his voice. ¡°Well then. Three competent heroes at the price of a single summoning ¨C not the most remarkable heroes one might hope for, perhaps, though I dare say rather efficient in terms of expense.¡±

    Remarkable heroes. Hell, if Fotham was still disappointed, just what kind of monsters were they supposed to be fighting?

    ¡°Now then, I believe His Majesty mentioned showing you about the grounds? There are several matters which may be of interest to you ¨C the library, the training yards, and of course, the armory.¡±

    Cole couldn¡¯t disagree. Yeah, it¡¯d be pretty interesting to see just how those guns of theirs worked and, more importantly, how they interacted with magic. ¡°Lead the way.¡±

    Fotham guided them through an adjoining door from the lab section. It opened directly onto what had to be the castle¡¯s research library ¨C three floors of shelving with the same Victorian sensibilities as everywhere else. A network of copper pipes crossed the ceiling, keeping the books cool and dry.

    He led them past empty reading tables to a section near the entrance. ¡°Your preliminary materials for the orientation period,¡± Fotham explained, indicating the prepared books before gesturing to the brass gates that barred the upper floors. ¡°Further resources shall become available to you once you¡¯ve been properly integrated with OTAC.¡±

    Cole pulled out a random volume while Ethan and Miles looked around. Maybe it just took a while for translation to kick in? Unsurprisingly, the spine¡¯s script remained as stubbornly foreign as the placard outside the testing room. Still, he grabbed another ¨C that familiar, futile optimism of rechecking an empty fridge. No joy. He slid it back with a sigh. Fotham¡¯s offer seemed almost mandatory now.

    ¡°So, uh¡­ say we agree to help you. What¡¯s the training sequence look like?¡± Cole asked.

    ¡°A months¡¯ instruction in the fundamentals, I should think ¨C matters of language, cultural particulars, basic theory of magic. Following that, presuming you find our arrangement agreeable, you would transfer to OTAC¡¯s facilities for the full course of Slayer training. You may, of course, find yourself interacting with other offices. My own ¨C the Office of Thaumaturgy ¨C maintains certain... collaborative interests with OTAC where matters of specialized magical knowledge are concerned.¡±

    ¡°Specialized, huh?¡± Miles walked over. ¡°Like, what kinda specialized?¡±

    ¡°That rather depends on the circumstances. Summoning heroes, for one,¡± Fotham replied, nodding his head to them.

    Fair enough. The answer was pretty vague, but Cole couldn¡¯t reasonably expect the man to betray OPSEC on a whim. They¡¯d probably learn soon enough about it anyway.

    ¡°Well then.¡± Fotham clasped his hands. ¡°Shall we proceed to the yards?¡±

    Deep booms from heavy rifles echoed down the corridor ¨C certainly not any measly .22. The report suggested something well beyond .50 caliber, which didn¡¯t bode well for his future encounters with whatever the hell required that much stopping power.

    Fotham led them through a covered walkway that opened onto the castle¡¯s western yard. A series of firing positions had been set up at the far end, occupied presumably by researchers donning heavy canvas coats, leather aprons, and face shields.

    The rifles they worked with looked similar to the ones he¡¯d seen the guards using, albeit with a few minor differences ¨C some sort of pocket near the stock, gleaming brass-like fittings around the chamber, and runic patterns spiraling down the barrels. Each shot distorted the air like heat waves rippling outward.

    ¡°Our research division, testing various enchantment configurations,¡± Fotham said.

    Mauser action ¨C or something close enough. The shooter seemed to have the rhythm down: load a round, flip what looked like a selector by the trigger guard, pause for a moment ¨C probably channeling mana ¨C then fire. First couple shots were normal enough, just cratering the reinforced backstop. Then came something different ¨C blue flash from the chamber, and the next impact somehow turned the splintered wood to ice. More than just frost; looked like the cold radiated outward from the point of impact.

    Interesting. It answered a few questions about their design and how they worked, but raised about a dozen more. The selector had to be for choosing effects, but what about the split-second timing between shots? And what stopped the effect from dissipating after the bullet left the barrel? It was probably connected to those brass-like fittings somehow ¨C basic mechanical linkage tied to the trigger, perhaps.

    ¡°Enjoying the demonstration, hm?¡±

    The question snapped Cole out of his analysis. He offered a nod.

    Fotham smiled. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d care to try it yourself?¡±

 Chapter 4: Size Matters

    Fotham led them to the armory complex beside the training yards. Cole paused at the weapon racks. The rifles shared that Lee Enfield profile, but the builds were closer to anti-materiel weapons ¨C the kinds normally reserved for taking out light vehicles. And these weren¡¯t specialized loadouts. Every rack held the same heavy configuration, as if a weapon on the scale of a Barrett .50 cal was nothing but standard issue. Just how much punishment could demons take?

    ¡°Those shall come in due course,¡± Fotham said. ¡°Though, I dare say we ought first attend to the matter of keeping your bones intact when firing one.¡±

    Cole smirked. ¡°Yeah, good idea.¡±

    Past the ranks of weapons and armor in the main hall, an adjoining chamber opened up. Simple training equipment lined the walls ¨C racks of weighted spheres and bars marked with numbered bands. Even in another world, pumping iron was still pumping iron.

    Fotham pulled down three iron spheres. ¡°Here. Take the measure of its weight first, without trying any magic.¡±

    Cole grabbed the handle of one, compensating against the familiar heft ¨C 60 pounds, based on the inscription on it. Exactly 60 pounds, oddly enough.

    Before he could even begin to wonder what that implied, the Celdornian grabbed another, which had to mass at least twice as much.

    Where a normal guy of his stature would¡¯ve likely snapped a muscle just trying to pick it up, Fotham raised it over his head as easily as one would lift up a phone. Anyone who¡¯d done enough weight training could spot the wrongness immediately. He lacked bracing, muscle tension ¨C hell, there was basically no adjustment for the shifting center of mass at all!

    The man¡¯s body simply refused to acknowledge what that weight should be doing to it.

    ¡°Most practitioners, upon their first attempts, endeavor to envelop themselves in mana ¨C rather like wrapping oneself in invisible armor. Most inefficient indeed. As with barriers ¨C while one might certainly shroud oneself completely, you shall find precise application yields superior results. A single, well-placed barrier demands far less mana than attempting to shield oneself from every quarter, does it not?¡±

    Fotham set down his weight. ¡°Start simple. How does lifting the sphere feel?¡±

    Cole raised his arm, curling. ¡°Familiar enough. Starts with a bit of tension in the forearm, then the bicep takes over. Gotta brace a bit so the shoulder stays locked in place.¡±

    ¡°Hell, ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ to it,¡± Miles said, working his weight.

    ¡°Quite so. Now then ¨C attend to that inner warmth,¡± Fotham said, gesturing to his chest. ¡°Rather like stoking a furnace, one must cultivate the heat ere attempting to direct it. Now, observe the sequence.¡±

    He lifted his weight again. ¡°The strength begins in the great muscles that anchor your arm to the chest wall. It flows thence through the shoulder, down through the upper arm, like blood through the veins. Each portion of flesh knows its role in sequence.¡±

    Cole closed his eyes, focusing on that strange new organ and the warmth it produced. Getting the mana flowing wasn¡¯t the hard part anymore. But trying to enhance his muscles directly just wasn¡¯t working; almost like trying to fill a water balloon by spraying it with a hose. The mana dispersed uselessly, and the sphere stayed stubbornly, precisely 60 pounds.

    ¡°Too much force,¡± Fotham corrected. ¡°Attend first to how you hold the sphere.¡±

    Cole adjusted, toning down the flow of the warmth like he was twisting a faucet. Still nothing. Next to him, Miles kept shifting his grip slightly, like he was close to something but couldn¡¯t quite get it.

    ¡°The tendons,¡± he explained, tracing lines across his arm, ¡°guide its course, much as great ropes bind muscle to bone. Do you feel how they tighten in sequence? The mana must follow these same paths. Direct it elsewhere, and you shall find yourself working quite against the natural design of your body.¡±

    Made sense. They¡¯d figured out the basic hardware, probably through a bit too many dissections ¨C muscles, tendons, major nerve bundles. But they were missing the whole control system; the interplay of neural pathways that turned those mechanical parts into coordinated movement.

    Wait.

    Cole paused, glancing down at his weight. He thought back to the barrier magic, how the mana had felt like adrenaline flowing through his system. And adrenaline worked both ways, didn¡¯t it? Flooding the bloodstream like Fotham was describing, but also firing through neural pathways. Two systems, working together.

    If mana followed that same pattern... maybe he was thinking about the wrong paths. Not just the blood vessels and muscles Fotham was describing, but the neural pathways that controlled them. The same ones that governed force production and power output ¨C the real key to strength.

    He focused on the grip sequence again; not on the muscles themselves, but on the force generation pathway. He focused on the way his body coordinated the lift, from stabilizers to prime movers. This time, he let the mana flow along those same neural roads.

    The warmth spread differently now - not fighting his body¡¯s architecture but enhancing it. It went from an uncontrollable overflow to following the exact pathways his system already used to produce force. The weight shifted slightly.

    ¡°Indeed, like so,¡± Fotham said, approving of Miles¡¯ work.

    Huh. It wasn¡¯t Ethan this time. Cole continued the movement, letting the mana amplify each step of the sequence he knew by heart. Like taking his body¡¯s normal strength production and cranking up the gain. No way would he let himself be the last to figure it out.

    The weight began to feel very different indeed.

    Fotham walked over to him. ¡°Excellent. Now you must teach your body to accept its new capabilities.¡±

    Cole knew exactly what he meant. Every muscle group was fighting against years of learned responses. It was like living through one of those gym prank videos ¨C the one where the pranksters replaced weights with foam and just watched people overcompensate.

    ¡°Good,¡± Fotham addressed Ethan. He turned to the rack and lifted down another set of spheres ¨C 80 pounds, if he recalled the number system from the manameter correctly. ¡°We begin again. Attempt it with minimal strengthening ¨C indeed, none at all if you believe yourself capable.¡±

    Cole could probably pull it off, but a sphere attached to a handle didn¡¯t exactly offer the same grip and distribution a normal dumbbell did. He paused, wrapping his hand around the handle. Better to play it safe; he wasn¡¯t like Miles, after all.

    He kept it minimal, about enough to make the 80-pound weight feel like it was 60 before amping it up. A quiet ¡®nice¡¯ from Miles drew his attention, probably glazing his own muscular abilities. Ethan was still working through the basics, but his persistence was paying off. Every few reps showed better form.

    They progressed through 2 more weight increments until they reached the 100-pound spheres. The process felt different now. The mana flowed smoother ¨C not quite at the reliability of Steph Curry¡¯s money shots, but good enough that he didn¡¯t need to allocate his full attention to it. All he needed to do was think it, and it was there.

    ¡°Excellently done,¡± Fotham said finally. ¡°Come. I believe you are now ready.¡±

    He led them back into the armory proper. The heavy rifles still fascinated Cole ¨C their obvious similarity to historical long arms, but engineered for stresses that would tear a normal weapon apart. Fotham selected one, checking the action before gesturing them toward the range.

    The next item from Fotham¡¯s checklist turned out to be hearing protection. Christ, these looked like something straight out of a Bioshock game ¨C brass and leather amalgamations that belonged in a museum, right next to Civil War rifle cases and whatever the hell a heliograph was. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    The engineering geeks ¨C including himself under normal circumstances ¨C would probably get hard over the concentric damping rings, but all he could think about now was how effective these things would be. Or rather, how ineffective. He¡¯d used ComTacs for the Barrett, and even those struggled with the concussion. Now they were about to fire what amounted to magical anti-tank rifles using these¡­ contraptions.

    The runic pattern didn¡¯t inspire confidence either. They had fewer lines than the more complex runes along the rifle¡¯s brass fitting and barrel. Simpler was just better, apparently. Or maybe Celdorne¡¯s healers were really good at regenerating auditory nerves.

    He braced himself as Fotham completed his checks and fired the handheld cannon.

    The pressure wave hit like a hammer to the chest, but his ears barely registered more than a deep thud. No ringing, pain, or even that bone-conducted resonance he¡¯d grown accustomed to.

    Well then. Looks like Celdorne¡¯s engineers knew what they were doing after all.

    Fotham beckoned them closer, presenting the rifle grip-first. He ran them through the basic operations ¨C mostly the same as any bolt gun, but with small enough differences to warrant attention.

    ¡°Standard action,¡± he said, cycling it smoothly. ¡°Brass cartridge, powder charge.¡± He pointed to patterns around the chamber. ¡°These fire and air runes enhance the blast. Those along the barrel maintain flight.¡±

    Damn. Between the caliber and the ¡®enhanced blast,¡¯ no wonder Fotham was so adamant about teaching them strengthening magic. Nothing short of a Humvee could handle this ¨C certainly not any ordinary human.

    ¡°Now, the fitting here.¡± Fotham tapped the brass-like metal wrapping the chamber, next to the runes. ¡°Aerochalcum. The rifle accepts mana through these channels, allowing for various effects as you shift the selector. Four positions, you¡¯ll observe: standard ammunition, followed by ice, fire, and lightning.¡±

    He turned to the rack behind them, selecting three more rifles. He handed them each one, along with leather pouches containing loaded box magazines.

    ¡°Observe first.¡± He slid a magazine home and worked the bolt. ¡°Without enhancement.¡±

    The rifle cracked. The round punched through an earthen target about a hundred meters out ¨C pretty much what he¡¯d expect from a powerful bolt gun.

    ¡°Your turn,¡± Fotham said, raising up more earthen dummies with his magic.

    Cole stepped up to the line, checking the magazine before working the bolt. Weird going back to this; last time he¡¯d handled this old of a weapon was what, that surplus Mosin at the range? The action felt smoother though, almost like handling a well-maintained Kar98k instead of something straight out of World War 1.

    The bore looked clean enough to eat off of, and the action cycled like it was running on bearings. Though, it had different weight distribution from his usual gear ¨C more front-heavy than even his loaded-out MK18. Seriously, what the hell was the barrel made of? Still, fundamentals were fundamentals. He squared up behind the sights.

    The recoil was stout but manageable when Cole squeezed off his shot, kinda like a magnum rifle but nothing they hadn¡¯t handled before. Miles and Ethan followed, their shots hitting on target.

    Cole tried again, this time with strengthening magic. Thank goodness for it; his body probably would¡¯ve been screaming for mercy if he had to deal with this for dozens of shots.

    ¡°Good. Now then ¨C should you wish to impart enchantments or amplify the power of your shot, you must incorporate magic.¡± Fotham inserted a bluish gem into a slot near the rifle¡¯s grip. ¡°Allow me to demonstrate with a mana crystal.¡±

    Mana crystal? It wasn¡¯t the most creative name, but at least it was easy on the lips.

    Fotham selected the fire rune, which flickered to life just before he squeezed the trigger. A red flash engulfed the weapon as he fired, accompanied by a much sharper crack ¨C like comparing standard 5.56 to hot-loaded match ammo. Same round, way more juice behind it.

    The target showed a clean hole, but what followed was pure high-explosive incendiary. The exit crater erupted in a shower of dirt and flames, leaving the earthen backstop glowing red-hot around the impact. Physics was still physics, at least. More velocity? More kinetic energy. But hell if the magic didn¡¯t add its own crazy flavor to the mix.

    ¡°Much as with our prior exercise in strengthening, one must first perceive and direct its flow. The channels are already wrought within ¨C you need only guide it.¡± Fotham showed his posture. ¡°Place your hand thus. You¡¯ll find the crystal¡¯s emanations rather cooler than your own mana.¡±

    Cole did as Fotham instructed. The pathways were there, sure enough. It almost felt like an extension of himself; probably the same as what the various fictional characters he¡¯d seen might¡¯ve felt when handling a wand or sword.

    ¡°Now then ¨C strengthen yourselves,¡± Fotham said. ¡°And when channeling the crystal¡¯s mana, begin with but a trickle. The rifle should be quite responsive even to minimal input.¡±

    Cole nodded. He searched for the sweet spot where the rifle still had enough weight to handle naturally. Making it too light would be like trying to shoot a Nerf gun. He needed at least some mass for stability, for the familiar feedback of a proper weapon.

    He focused on the crystal next. Minimal flow. The enchantment rune flickered dimly.

    He fired.

    The recoil was still substantial, but his enhanced muscles absorbed it better now. Like firing a .50 BMG, but with his whole body tuned to manage the force. The rifle stayed on target through the shot. Physics still applied, thankfully, but at least hitting follow-up shots would be easier with strengthening magic.

    The fire and air runes though¡­ improved deflagration was one thing, but that kind of power increase? The pressure curve had to be getting modified somehow. Maybe the runes were controlling the gas expansion rate in the chamber? Regular deflagration could only push a round so hard, no matter how perfectly the powder burned.

    It kinda reminded him of those experimental ETC guns DARPA had played around with, using plasma to jack up the energy transfer. He couldn¡¯t say for sure without dissecting it or learning how to read runes, but the magic had to be doing something similar ¨C pushing that pressure wave faster, harder, closer to detonation speeds without actually crossing that line. No wonder they needed special chamber materials.

    ¡°Well, holy hot damn.¡± Miles lowered his rifle, a grin stretching across his face. His target showed similar handiwork ¨C clean in, catastrophic out. ¡°And that¡¯s barely any juice?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. While precision and control shall generally serve you better, occasions arise whereby brute force proves necessary. The greater demons are not so readily dispatched. Best to master both approaches. Start with minimal enhancement, then we shall proceed upward in measure. Now, try the other selections.¡±

    Next up were the ice rounds. Leave it to Victorian combat engineers to look at hollow points and think ¡® eh, not quite devastating enough.¡¯ The initial wound channel was just the starting point ¨C those crystalline formations propagated through the target mass as if giving it the Han Solo treatment, only engineered specifically for maximum tissue destruction.

    Hell of a way to bypass the Geneva Convention¡¯s restrictions. Though given what they were up against, perhaps excessive force was precisely the point. And besides, demons definitely weren¡¯t covered under the accords.

    Then there was the lightning setting.

    DARPA had blown billions trying to develop directed energy weapons, and here was Celdorne solving the problem with Victorian metallurgy and some particularly aggressive runes. Not those neuromuscular disruption payloads that never quite worked; nah, this was actual lightning delivered straight through a bullet somehow. The projectile punched through and turned the whole wound channel into a conductor. The great Nikola Tesla would''ve been either fascinated or apoplectic.

    ¡°Now, without the crystal. Steady pressure, like a well-regulated steam valve. Too much force will strain the channels.¡±

    Cole channeled his mana outward ¨C a similar feeling to casting barrier magic. However, this required more finesse, more like maintaining steady pressure through an IV drip than trying to fill a pool with a fire hose. Once he found the right flow rate, it felt no different from using the crystal¡¯s power supply. Same pathways, same response from the rifle; just drawing from his own reserves instead of an external source.

    And thank God it didn¡¯t demand much from his own reserves. His head was still throbbing from the strengthening magic and barrier test, and that dull ache in his lower back had grown from a minor pain into an acupuncturing mishap. Only his admiration of the weapon¡¯s design philosophy offered any hope of distraction, though even that seemed questionable.

    The Celdorians must have approached this through steam engine theory, but wasn¡¯t mana flow closer to fluid dynamics? Too much flow rate leading to turbulence, wasting energy and risking damage? Would explain their emphasis on control, and why the crystals seemed to output at specific rates. Made sense as a backup too ¨C something that enabled tired men to keep on trucking. He¡¯d have to check the library when he could; there had to be something on the framework behind all this.

    ¡°Excellent progress,¡± Fotham said. ¡°I perceive you possess a rather promising facility for channeling. We shall, of course, refine your sustained output during your initial course of instruction.¡±

    Ethan chuckled. ¡°He¡¯s got a way with words, doesn¡¯t he?¡±

    The library comment stuck with Cole. Fotham carried the same presumptive tone as the king¡¯s offer ¨C as if their acceptance was merely a formality waiting to happen. Which, it was, quite honestly. But hell if the lack of agency didn¡¯t just grind his gears.

    ¡°The rest of the tour beckons,¡± Fotham announced, barely giving them time to process. ¡°I believe you¡¯ll be rather excited to see what our kitchens and guest accommodations have to offer.¡±

    Cole returned his cleared rifle to the rack. All the planning that must¡¯ve gone into this ¨C not just the weapons themselves, but also the civilization that had spent years, decades, perfecting them¡­ It couldn¡¯t be from some haphazard response to a demon incursion. It was a long-term development that suggested an equally long-term threat, one he¡¯d be signing away his life to. But hey, it¡¯d all be worth it if the food¡¯s good and if the beds are comfy, right?

 Chapter 5: Home Sweet Home

    The infirmary was close enough to the armory to justify a quick revisit, but lingering any longer than necessary wasn¡¯t worth it. Mack was still there, lying in his bed, at the mercy of his coma. Cole could visit later; for now, just familiarizing himself with the basic layout would do.

    The kitchen proved more lively.

    The area rivaled any modern commercial operation in scope. Despite the numerous occupied stovetops aglow with flames and red light, the room didn¡¯t feel stuffy ¨C like a Korean BBQ joint with proper ventilation. Another steampunk pastiche, courtesy of Celdorne¡¯s finest artisans.

    None of the dishes looked familiar though. Various meats Cole couldn¡¯t identify sizzled in massive pots, surrounded by vegetables that definitely weren¡¯t in any Earth cookbook. The smells were good, at least. Hell, after dealing with a JNI dirty bomb, the ensuing clusterfuck, and then getting isekai¡¯d, his stomach couldn''t care less about alien gastronomy.

    Fotham, despite his intentions on behalf of the kingdom, seemed at least considerate of the shit they¡¯d been through. Probably having heard their growling stomachs, Fotham led them to a cook built like he¡¯d spent his life hauling heavy sacks of food and cookware.

    ¡°Master Marwin,¡± Fotham greeted him. ¡°Our special guests have been at practice. Three mana potions, if you please.¡±

    ¡°Training, are they?¡± The cook gave their gear a long look, but his thoughts remained unspoken. ¡°Never seen soldiers fitted thus ¨C begging your pardon, of course.¡± Turning to a shelf, he grabbed three blue vials. ¡°Fair warning: nary a soul drinks this without grimacing. Bitter as an Aurelian at market. Though we¡¯ve ways of making it less offensive.¡±

    Marwin turned to what looked like an icebox built into the wall. ¡°Sunfruit press helps it down. Or¡­¡± He pulled open the door, cold air spilling out. ¡°Ah! Apples from the southern provinces, fresh as morning. Rare sight indeed. Though¡­ well, there¡¯s other mixtures that serve just as well.¡±

    As enticing as it was to get hammered after dealing with the strangest day of his life, Cole had to turn down the offer. ¡°Yeah, maybe another time. I think we¡¯ll just go with the uh, the apple juice, right?¡±

    His team nodded, eagerly so. Looked like no one wanted to play guinea pig with sunfruit ¨C not today at least. The apple mix would do just fine; they¡¯d already signed up for one mystery drink with that blue stuff, and that was plenty for now.

    They downed the drinks together.

    Not bad ¨C the apple juice masked most of that promised bitterness, though a metallic aftertaste lingered. The warmth spreading through Cole¡¯s chest felt like that first sip of coffee in the morning, minus the usual jitters. Some of that training fatigue started to fade too.

    ¡°Hungry lot, I¡¯d wager,¡± the cook said, still tending his pots. ¡°Got a good consomm¨¦ on ¨C marsh buck stewed with koreth root. Been at it since dawn. Also got drell flanks rubbed with viss and aged in wine. Sarn and cave pheasant from the eastern ranges. Riverfish in melted butter with fresh shrolt.¡± He wiped his hands on his apron. ¡°His Majesty¡¯s special guests ought to eat proper, after all.¡±

    The aromas wafting through the kitchen conjured up those fancy cooking shows where even the intrepid hosts sometimes found themselves linguistically fucked. Koreth root? Viss? At least ¡®marsh buck¡¯ and ¡®cave pheasant¡¯ gave him some idea what he¡¯d be eating. The wine-rich smell from that drell dish was pretty darn promising though. After months of MREs, he sure as hell wasn¡¯t gonna turn down some royal Michelin star bangers.

    ¡°Hell, reckon we might as well try a bit of everything,¡± Miles said, probably thinking the same thing. ¡°Ain¡¯t had somethin¡¯ proper in a minute.¡±

    No argument there. At this point, Cole would¡¯ve demolished a 7/11 hot dog, let alone whatever culinary extravagance they were about to get.

    Fotham nodded to Marwin. ¡°I shall have the maids fetch the meals when our guests have settled upon their quarters. Now,¡± he turned to Cole and the others, ¡°let us proceed to the guest wing.¡±

    From the kitchens, a series of corridors branched deeper into the castle complex. Cole kept track of their turns ¨C left at the first major intersection, past what looked like administrative offices, then up a broad staircase lined with bright lamps.

    Their path led through an open-air colonnade, where afternoon light threw bold shadows across a checkered marble floor. The castle grounds stretched out below, visible between the classical columns. Reminded him of those old European castles he¡¯d visited years back. Same grandeur, same attention to detail, almost literally. Funny how that worked; of all the possible forms an isekai world could take, it just had to be medieval European fantasy. Maybe architectural styles followed some universal law of convergent evolution?

    The guest wing occupied the castle''s eastern corner. It was perfect for visiting nobles or foreign dignitaries ¨C morning sun, decent elevation, multiple evacuation routes if Cole read those hallway junctions right. The deeper they went, the more refined the decor became. Polished wood replaced stone walls while elaborate carpets replaced marble.

    Runic patterns lit up as they passed, almost acting like motion sensors ¨C some kinda monitoring system, probably. The guards they''d passed were positioned at key junctions, maintaining clear lines of sight down each corridor. Between this and the fortress-level security from when they¡¯d first arrived, it seemed like Celdorne definitely didn¡¯t take any chances.

    ¡°Those runes,¡± Ethan said, ¡°Motion sensors?¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Fotham paused in front of one of the runes. "Experience has taught us, rather painfully, that certain demons may bend light to conceal their presence. These runes perceive their movement and render such sorcery quite useless.¡±

    He led them down the final corridor, stopping at the first of several identical wooden doors. ¡°Your chambers,¡± he said, gesturing inside.

    High ceilings, polished wood, brass fixtures? For all their practicality elsewhere, Celdorne didn''t skimp on hospitality either. Though maybe that was practical in its own way, when it came to housing important guests. The room itself was spacious enough, centered around a canopied bed that put their Jadiran accommodations to shame. A desk caught the afternoon light from tall windows, and a side door opened to what had to be a restroom, given the pipes running along the walls.

    ¡°Damn,¡± Miles whistled. ¡°Sure could get used to this.¡±

    ¡°We have four such chambers like this, reserved for diplomatic guests.¡± He brought them to the other rooms, each one following the same layout.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Miles tugged at his collar as they entered the third room. ¡°A bit warm in this one, ain¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Fotham moved to what first appeared to be metallic wall art ¨C an ornate piece with flowing lines that, on closer inspection, formed a temperature gradient. He passed his hand over the left side, and a pleasant coolness began filtering through the room.

    The runes flickered as he adjusted the temperature. The closest analogue would probably be one of those old analog thermostats, just with magic instead of mercury. Different principles, same basic idea.

    The rooms seemed comfortable enough, but something felt¡­ off. Were they really gonna take separate rooms, leaving their backs bare to a bunch of strangers they hardly knew? Fuck no.

    ¡°If such private chambers prove unsuitable, perhaps I might show you our more commodious arrangements.¡±

    Cole raised an eyebrow. Awfully on point, even for someone as keen as Fotham. Either their host had a doctorate in cold reading, or this world¡¯s list of impossibilities included telepathy, telekinesis, and the other various flavors of extrasensory perception.

    Well, if Fotham was a telepath, he sure as hell didn¡¯t react to the image of the Booty Warrior and his plans for ¡®Chris Handsome¡¯ that Cole had intended to subject them both to.

    The confirmation of mental privacy, unfortunately, wasn¡¯t quite worth being the only one stuck with that mental image. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah. Let¡¯s check those out.¡±

    They walked down another corridor to a wider set of double doors. The ¡®commodious arrangements¡¯ turned out to be a family suite. A central parlor opened up into multiple bedrooms, not unlike the setups in period dramas where aristocrats traveled with entire households in tow.

    Sunlight poured through tall windows that ran along a wall, bathing the living room. Lamps cast steady light from the corners, something closer to captured daylight instead of the flicker of flames or incandescence of bulbs. Fotham passed his hand near a runic panel on the wall, and the glow dimmed.

    The room stretched up to a high coffered ceiling. Felt weird being in a space this grand after months of cramped quarters, though even ¡®grand¡¯ was an understatement. It was more like¡­ stepping into some alternate timeline where the industrial revolution found purchase with magic instead of steam.

    Miles seemed to have the right idea, sinking into one of the velvet armchairs with an appreciative sigh.

    Cole looked out the windows. They were three, maybe four stories up, with a clear view over the castle walls to the city beyond. He¡¯d expected something grimier given all the Victorian aesthetic, but apparently, he¡¯d forgotten all about the other possibility: Gilded elegance. All the better for his lungs. Cole¡¯s lifespan probably went up a decade just knowing that this city wasn¡¯t some pseudo-London hellscape choking on industrial fumes.

    Domed structures, early skyscrapers, and towers caught the sun, rising between buildings that wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in London or Paris or Prague. But where those ancient capitals drowned in their own antiquated civil planning, this place seemed to have considered traffic larger than carriages from the get-go. Wide boulevards stretched between buildings like they¡¯d been transplanted from Los Angeles, as if someone had built a European capital from scratch instead of piling it on top of a thousand years of urban sprawl.

    The harbor in the distance was almost as impressive. Ironclads and wooden sailing ships bearing all manner of flags and designs dotted the water, numbering in the dozens.

    ¡°Alexandria,¡± Fotham said, his reflection appearing in the window. ¡°While our capital cannot boast the vast expanses of Aurelia¡¯s cities ¨C or coffers ¨C we pride ourselves on rather more practical achievements. Those cranes you see at the docks? A Celdornian innovation. As are the steam vessels that grace our harbors. Indeed,¡± he continued, almost drunk on pride, ¡°almost all the merchant houses and companies of the continent maintain offices here.¡±

    Cole nodded, turning away from the window. Proper infrastructure, exclusive access to magitech, and heavy trade? It was the obvious recipe for small but loaded, yet Celdorne¡¯s apparent lack of colonial reach was curious ¨C ethics aside. Did the demons truly have enough of their attention to curb the kingdom¡¯s ambitions, or was it something else?

    ¡°The bedrooms are this way,¡± Fotham offered.

    They entered the master bedroom first ¨C easily twice the size of the singles they¡¯d looked at earlier. Canopied bed, tall windows, private restroom, various other furnishings. A heavy wooden desk sat beneath a mirror with dials built into its frame. Similar runic constructions to those throughout the castle were etched into the metal, likely the Scrying Pane. The master bedroom alone would be more than enough, let alone the entire suite.

    The 3 other side bedrooms were smaller, but no less extravagant. At this point, calling dibs wasn¡¯t even necessary.

    But then, what was that other door down the corridor?

    ¡°The service passage.¡± Fotham opened it, revealing a simple hallway. ¡°Though I dare say you''ll find little purpose in it, save perhaps for giving the maids a fright.¡±

    So, another entrance. Or exit.

    Cole nodded, returning to the living room. The afternoon sun made it feel warm, cozy, well-earned. ¡°Alright then. Four rooms; one for each of us plus one for Mack when he¡¯s back on his feet. Seems good to me.¡±

    ¡°Yup,¡± Miles agreed.

    Cole glanced at Ethan. He gave a thumbs up.

    Perfect. Cole turned to Fotham. ¡°We¡¯ll take the suite.¡±

    ¡°Very good. Then, allow me to show you the Scrying Pane.¡±

    He brought them back to the master bedroom, stopping at the mirror mounted above the desk. When he turned one of the brass dials on its frame, the mirror¡¯s surface brightened with a magical glow.

    ¡°Each number upon the dial connects to its appointed chamber.¡± He gestured to the reference card. ¡°The guard posts occupy the first four, followed by the throne room, infirmary, kitchens, and this floor¡¯s servants. Here is your own copy of the registry ¨C I suggest you commit the essential numbers to memory.¡±

    Cole accepted it, looking through the list. A directory system. Simple, practical, much like the simple ones hotels usually had.

    Fotham turned to the first position and the mirror¡¯s surface rippled before showing two guards at their post. The image quality made early Skype look cutting-edge, but hell, they¡¯d solved video calls while their counterparts on Earth were barely on the telegraph.

    ¡°Director,¡± one of the guards nodded.

    ¡°As you were.¡± His image disappeared as Fotham returned the dial to the starting point. ¡°When the mirror brightens and chimes, turn here from ¡®inactive¡¯ to ¡®active.¡¯ Return it so when you wish to end the connection.¡±

    Fotham moved on to a second dial. ¡°In times of urgency, turn to the first position ¨C it shall alert all guard posts at once.¡±

    Cole nodded. Before him were the essential features distilled to their simplest form ¨C ring, answer, hang up. Even included their little version of 911. ¡°And security?¡±

    ¡°The mirrors are fixed in place, and our chambers remain quite restricted. We¡¯ve found no cause for concern these many years.¡±

    Physical security ¨C the original access controlled. Fair enough. When a network required line of sight and manual operation, ¡®hacking¡¯ became a strictly literal affair.

    ¡°Have you any questions? The Pane? Your chambers?¡± Fotham asked.

    Miles and Ethan shook their heads.

    ¡°Think we¡¯re good,¡± Cole said. ¡°You¡¯ve been thorough; thanks.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Your servants shall bring your evening meal in an hour''s time. Should you require anything before then, they may be reached via position eight.¡± Fotham gave a slight bow. ¡°Good evening, gentlemen.¡±

    The door closed with a soft click. Time to familiarize themselves with home sweet home.

 Chapter 6: Visitors

    Miles immediately collapsed into one of the velvet armchairs in the living room, vest, pack, and all. ¡°Well hot damn. Rich don¡¯t even begin to cover it. And here I thought them Highland Park houses were somethin¡¯.¡±

    Cole snorted. ¡°One percent versus point one, dude. And that¡¯s not even factoring the magic mirrors.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Hell, I bet they probably got some fancy-ass Victorian bidet in the bathroom too. Slap a water rune on there, shoot it right up your ass.¡±

    Ethan tore himself away from the temperature runes. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know. Bet you¡¯re wondering if there¡¯s a pressure setting, too.¡±

    ¡°Aw, hell,¡± Miles chuckled, raising up his arms. ¡°C¡¯mon now, that¡¯s all you. I ain¡¯t think up that shit; you did.¡±

    Cole grinned, absently channeling that warmth he was starting to get used to. He formed a flat barrier almost subconsciously, about waist high. He moved it around. Huh; it might actually make transportation easier, if he could keep it steady.

    He lifted his pack onto the surface. It held, but getting it across was another story, like trying to carry a full cup of coffee without spilling. By the time he managed to float it over to the couch, his forehead was damp with sweat.

    ¡°Show off.¡± Miles formed his own barrier. His pack slid right off the tilted surface. ¡°Well shit.¡±

    Ethan¡¯s attempt almost made it onto a couch before his barrier yawed to the side, dumping his pack onto the floor. ¡°Easy making it, damn hard keeping it steady.¡±

    ¡°Like training a new muscle. Shit, literally,¡± Miles said, concentrating on his second attempt. The pack wobbled but stayed up this time. ¡°Hey, there we¨C fuck.¡± It slid off again.

    Cole glanced at their gear. ¡°We should probably start doing inventory. Figure out what we¡¯ve got.¡±

    Ethan opened his pack. ¡°Well, we¡¯ve got an hour ¡®til food. Plenty of time to sort our shit out.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Cole looked around. ¡°Plus some extra time to scope out our surroundings.¡±

    Cole immediately got to work. It was the first chance they¡¯d had to clean weapons since this whole mess started. His AK-74M was still caked with blood and sand from the construction site ¨C everything had been non-stop since the skyscraper, and continued even unto their second life. Mack in the infirmary, meeting the king, magic lessons, and then messing around with those oversized bolt actions.

    If there were any solace, it¡¯d be the fact that the rifles were pretty usable even if they¡¯d never see 5.45 again.

    ¡°Got three mags,¡± Miles reported, laying out his gear on a table. Dark flecks already marked the carpet where they¡¯d left their bloodied equipment. His AKS-74U looked about as bad. ¡°Two full, one partial. Shotgun¡¯s still good, though.¡±

    Cole popped his dust cover. Shit was a mess ¨C construction site dust mixed with dried blood from those JNI fuckers shooting into the crowd. ¡°Three and a half. Damn.¡±

    ¡°Three and change,¡± Ethan said, stripping down his FAL.

    Even with their sidearms untouched, their remaining firepower wasn¡¯t anything to get excited over. These would be their last mags until¡­ well, forever, probably. And there was no telling what else might come knocking. ¡°Quick clean now, full detail in the morning.¡± Cole glanced at the stained carpet. Fuck it; not like they could make it much worse.

    The familiar routine helped clear his head a bit. Nobody had bothered them for at least half an hour ¨C probably wouldn¡¯t until dinner.

    The remaining spread wasn¡¯t much to get excited over, either. Three frags a pop, plus three more if they grabbed Mack¡¯s stuff from the infirmary. Most of their flashbangs had gone into that high-rise breach. Cole had three left, Miles two, Ethan four. Three breaching charges between them. Their demo kit was mostly intact since they hadn¡¯t needed to blow that bomb ¨C or anything else, for that matter.

    NVGs checked out, still stowed away neatly. Comms would need testing tomorrow, see what range they could get in a castle. Medical looked alright; they¡¯d hardly touched their individual first aid kits, and Mack¡¯s advanced one should last a good bit. Long enough to either learn healing magic or teach these guys how to make penicillin. Maybe both.

    He rifled through the rest of his pack, gripping a slim rectangular object. On the list of the many things he¡¯d miss, this thing was somewhere up there. He pulled his Samsung from his pack. No service ¨C fucking shocking. Still had juice though. Calculator, camera, notes, cached manuals, even his Spotify downloads and Bloons Tower Defense. Definitely worth keeping charged. Thank God for spare solar charges. At this point, they may as well be holy relics.

    ¡°Well.¡± Miles set his cleaned AKS aside. ¡°Reckon these are just wall hangers now. ¡®Less 5.45 actually works on demons.¡±

    Cole crossed to the windows, looking outside. Perfect view of the courtyard ¨C as picturesque as any important noble might hope to see. But it was also exactly what you¡¯d give soldiers you wanted to garrison.

    The stone window seat was a nice touch, real fancy noble shit that just so happened to make a perfect headglitch for covering the gates. Though Nuketown window wars probably didn¡¯t compare to holding off literal demonic hordes.

    ¡°After today? Wouldn¡¯t rule anything out.¡±

    Miles stood up. ¡°Fair enough. Guess I oughta check out the service hall.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll walk around a bit. See what else is up here,¡± Ethan added.

    Cole nodded. Being stuck with checking out the suite wasn¡¯t all too bad; he probably would¡¯ve done it anyway. He started with the usual spots ¨C light fixtures, under furniture, behind curtains. Not that he¡¯d recognize a magical bug if he found one, but he had to at least try. The heating runes in the corners seemed normal enough, same as the ones Fotham had shown them earlier, but fuck if he knew what else they could do.

    If they had magical listening devices, they weren¡¯t anything obvious ¨C though what counted as obvious in a place with scrying mirrors was anyone¡¯s guess. For all he knew, the king could watch them take a shit if he wanted to.

    He¡¯d scoured the common areas and three bedrooms and had just started a sweep of the final one when Miles came back. ¡°Service hall loops around the whole floor. Got doors to at least six other rooms, all locked ¡®cept ours.¡± He dropped into one of the chairs. ¡°Ran into a maid. They¡¯ve got keys, use it pretty regular.¡±

    Ethan returned as Cole wrapped up with the last bedroom. ¡°No neighbors. Got another suite next door before the hallway opens up. Same on the other side. Guards offered to show me around when they saw my vest.¡± He tapped the bloodied American flag. ¡°This wing¡¯s for ¡®honored guests¡¯ ¨C suppose that¡¯s us now. Got a decent view of the gardens on the other side.¡±

    Three knocks at the service door interrupted them. The smell hit Cole before he even reached the door. Well, damn. If whatever they were bringing smelled this good through castle walls, dinner might just make up for this shitstorm of a day. The kitchen tour had already reset his standards ¨C after watching Marwin cookery, MREs felt like some cruel culinary joke.

    Old habits kept his hand on the Glock 21 in his coat pocket as he approached the door.

    ¡°Service, if you please.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, come in.¡± He opened it carefully.

    She walked in with a service cart, pushing it along until they reached the dining area. ¡°If it pleases my lords, might I inquire as to your preference for service? I shall gladly lay out the courses with all proper ceremony, or, should my lords prefer, I might arrange the dishes for your private dining. We are, of course, most mindful that customs of service may differ in your lands of origin.¡±

    Looking at the food now, Cole just realized there was no way of telling what the food¡¯s journey might¡¯ve been. Maybe he was just being a bit paranoid, but he couldn¡¯t tell if the food had been poisoned.

    Okay, major faux pas incoming, but fuck it. What¡¯s worse, after all ¨C a social fuck-up or three dead heroes? God, that was such a messed up calculation to make over dinner. Even if it was a real, practical concern. Even if the kingdom would absolutely prefer the first scenario.

    ¡°Could you¡­ uh¡­¡± Christ, this would¡¯ve been so much easier if they¡¯d thought about going to the kitchen.

    Honestly, the real faux pas would be dying of poison because he couldn¡¯t ask someone to taste test. Pretty sure Emily Post never covered the etiquette of asking a server to die for you, but hey, the maid must¡¯ve signed up for this, right?

    ¡°Would you mind tasting each dish before we serve?¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    The maid barely hesitated before taking a small bite of each dish. Hell, maybe she moonlit as a food taster; seemed like the kind of multi-tasking medieval staff would do. Or maybe they just trained for this shit. Either way, her face showed no tells.

    Nothing happened though. Just the same polite smile, like she taste-tested for upstuck dignitaries every other day. At least they¡¯d been spared from hauling ass to Elina. That would¡¯ve been one awkward conversation.

    ¡°Will my lords prefer the full service, or shall I arrange the dishes for private dining?¡±

    Cole glanced at the others. Miles was basically on the verge of salivating like he belonged on My 600-Pound Life. He couldn¡¯t blame him; the last thing they¡¯d had was what, a protein bar before their final pre-mission briefing? ¡°Just set it up casual, please.¡±

    ¡°Of course, my lord.¡± She began unloading the dishes onto the dining table. She also noticed the bloodstains on the carpet, but didn¡¯t say anything. No bad blood, hopefully.

    The spread put everything else they¡¯d seen until now to shame. A nice steak dinner at Ruth¡¯s Chris or Lawry¡¯s? Nothing compared to this. First was the drell meat they¡¯d smelled earlier, all wine-soaked and fancy. Then, cave pheasant that looked like regular pheasant¡¯s goth cousin. Some kinda consomm¨¦ with the marsh buck the cook had been on about. Warm bread that he wouldn¡¯t have minded stuffing a bag with if this were a Cheesecake Factory.

    ¡°We have marsh buck consomm¨¦ with koreth root,¡± she said, ladling it out. ¡°Wine-aged drell flanks with viss rub, eastern cave pheasant, and riverfish in melted butter with shrolt. Master Marwin prepared extra portions, considering the day¡¯s exertions.¡±

    Nice. Magic probably burned calories like a motherfucker, so God knows they wouldn¡¯t just be stuffing themselves like gluttons.

    ¡°When you finish your repast, my lords, pray leave the cart in the corridor. It shall be attended to before dawn. Might there be aught else my lords require?¡±

    ¡°Nah, we¡¯re good. Thanks for uh, y¡¯know.¡± Cole glanced down at the food.

    ¡°It is my pleasure.¡± She gave a curtsy before leaving.

    Miles dug in before the door even clicked shut. ¡°Well hot damn, fuck me sideways.¡±

    ¡°That good?¡± Cole grabbed a fork. The drell meat fell apart the moment he touched it. First bite and ¨C wow. Okay. Yeah. This was definitely helping with the whole ¡®summoned to fight demons¡¯ thing. ¡°Mmm.¡±

    ¡°Like wagyu and wine had a baby.¡± Miles was already halfway through his portion. ¡°Gonna turn into a damn beefer if we stay.¡±

    Ethan snorted around a mouthful of pheasant. ¡°Not with the training Fotham¡¯s offering, I don¡¯t think.¡±

    They demolished the food in comfortable silence. The consomm¨¦ hit especially different. Something about hot soup after getting shot at just¡­ worked. Whatever marsh buck and koreth root were, the combo gave chicken noodle a run for its money.

    ¡°So.¡± Miles wiped his mouth, finally slowing down. ¡°We gonna talk about this shit or what?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s there to talk about?¡± Ethan said. ¡°Go back, die in Jadira. Stay here, maybe die fighting demons.¡± He raised his fork. ¡°Honorable, too. Unless they take our souls, or some shit.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, fuck that,¡± Miles agreed. ¡°Could say no to the Slayer thing. Be regular citizens.¡±

    Cole set down his fork. ¡°Not like the demons are gonna give two shits about that. You saw those rifles ¨C they¡¯re not building ¡®em for fun.¡±

    ¡°Could try somewhere else,¡± Ethan said, but his tone made it clear he didn¡¯t buy it himself. ¡°Different city, maybe?¡±

    ¡°With what money?¡± Miles asked. ¡°What papers? Hell, what language? This here translation magic, far as I know, only works with Celdornian. Ain¡¯t got a Rosetta Stone for whatever gibberish they speak out there.¡±

    Papers and language sure could be a problem, but if this were any other isekai where the natives collectively fawn over new food, then Cole sure as hell got money covered. ¡°Ha, I bet we could probably make a fortune with the Chick-fil-A sauce recipe. Or even just good ol¡¯ ketchup. But who knows if they even got tomatoes here.¡±

    Ethan shrugged. ¡°I mean, shit, they got apples, don¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t seen a tomato, though. But regardless, we really only have one option available to us.¡±

    ¡°Fait fuckin¡¯ accompli,¡± Miles muttered, pushing his empty plate back. ¡°Can¡¯t even be mad about it neither. They saved our asses ¨C shit, probably saved Mack¡¯s life too. But it ain¡¯t like that changes the fact we¡¯re stuck here with our dicks in the wind.¡±

    Cole didn¡¯t like the fact any more than Miles did. It just so happened that the best logical decision turned out to be the one Celdorne wanted them to take. ¡°Yup. We¡¯re basically indebted to ¡®em. We¡¯ve got weeks of training while Mack¡¯s out anyway. Might as well use it.¡±

    ¡°So what, we tell the king we¡¯re in?¡± Miles asked. ¡°Just like that?¡±

    ¡°For now.¡± Cole finished up his riverfish and the shrimp-looking things that must¡¯ve been the shrolt. ¡°See how training goes. Then we revisit our decision when Mack wakes up, see if he agrees.¡±

    Ethan chuckled.

    Miles placed his empty plates on the cart. ¡°Man, y¡¯all know damn well Mack ain¡¯t turning it down. Shit¡¯s basically a dream come true for him.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± Cole got up, stacking the rest of the dishware on the cart. He wheeled it into the service corridor, empty save for a few flickering lights.

    Returning to the living room, he spotted a little tea table by the window. Not exactly ADT, but those cups would make enough noise if someone tried any of the entrances.

    He dragged it closer to the main entrance, earning a weird look from Ethan.

    ¡°What are you doing with ¨C ah, good idea.¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡± Cole positioned it near the door, arranging the cups and saucers ¨C bull in a china shop. ¡°Makeshift alarm.¡±

    Ethan grabbed another table, bringing it toward the service corridor.

    Thank God Celdorne also seemed obsessed with Victorian tea culture. Though why this was the case would likely forever remain a mystery. More convergent evolution? Isekai¡¯d Englishman back in the day? Anyone¡¯s guess, really.

    Cole tested the setup by the front door. Yeah, those porcelain cups would wake the dead if someone tried sneaking in. But frankly, anyone who could magic their way past castle walls probably wouldn¡¯t bother with doors. ¡°Alright, rooms. Doors all open, nothing obstructing them.¡±

    Miles pointed to the room on the left, next to the master bedroom. ¡°I¡¯ll take that one.¡±

    Ethan took the one across from the master bedroom. ¡°We sleeping in kit?¡±

    Cole considered it. Full gear would suck balls, but being caught with pants literally down would suck worse. ¡°Stripped down, plates nearby.¡±

    They spent the next fifteen minutes arranging furniture, so anyone on watch would be able to see both doors from a window seat in the living room.

    ¡°Alright.¡± Cole checked his watch. ¡°2200 to 0100, 0100 to 0400, 0400 to 0700. That gets us up before their morning routine kicks in.¡± He nodded to Miles. ¡°Garrett, second shift. Walker third. Use the down time to write shit down ¨C anything that could help. Engineering, chemistry, tactics, basic science, whatever.¡±

    ¡°Man,¡± Ethan grumbled. ¡°Wish I''d brought one of those civilization restart books.¡±

    ¡°Hindsight¡¯s a bitch, ain¡¯t it?¡± Miles shrugged. ¡°Night y¡¯all.¡±

    ¡°Night.¡±

    Cole settled into his seat near the window. ¡°Sweet dreams, fellas.¡±

    He pulled out a small notebook from his pack as they retired to their rooms. The courtyard below was well-lit, torches supplementing whatever magic they used for the lightbulbs. The natural lighting almost seemed unsettling, but at least he didn¡¯t have to strain his eyes looking down at his notebook.

    Where does one even start rebuilding modern knowledge from scratch? The stuff they¡¯d seen today ¨C those rifles, the healing magic, the strangely Victorian or Gilded setups ¨C it all pointed to a technological base that was advanced in some ways but had strange gaps in others. Like they speedran the industrial revolution using magic instead of pure steam power.

    Then there were the odd alignments with things an alien planet probably shouldn¡¯t be familiar with ¨C 3 of their distance units being 3 feet, 60 of their weight units being about the same as 60 pounds.

    Well, he could probably skip the basic stuff. These guys probably knew all about trigonometry and algebra already, maybe even calculus.

    First things first ¨C shit that would actually keep them alive. Partial derivatives could come after everything else, if he even remembered enough about them to write something cohesive.

    So, weapons. Their current ammo wouldn¡¯t last forever, but with the Gilded-Victorian tech level here plus magic, proper smokeless powder wasn¡¯t impossible. Getting the nitration process right would be tricky, but he at least had somewhere to start. Maybe Miles or Ethan would be able to fill in the gaps or corroborate his info. He jotted down what he could remember on bullet weights, powder charges, primer compounds, and rifling patterns before wrapping up the section with disjointed notes.

    Medical came next. He hated thinking about it, but he had to prepare for the worst case scenario. Mack¡¯s recovery wasn¡¯t a guarantee, and neither was the efficacy of healing magic. He needed to jot down everything he knew about proper field medicine ¨C basic trauma procedures, wound management, anything he could remember about antibiotics from biology class. It wasn¡¯t as much as he¡¯d hoped for, but it was something; definitely better than if some random kid got isekai¡¯d.

    Lord willing, they¡¯d have Mack up and about to handle all this for them. Now, what next?

    Basic tactics wasn¡¯t a bad bet. Viet Cong shit would likely come in real useful. But what about more advanced knowledge? Proper radio theory and electromagnetics would be handy, especially if the Celdornians already had some sort of background, however rudimentary. And hell, if his knowledge of cymatics and physiology came in handy for magic, what else might?

    Three sharp knocks fucked up his train of thought. Shit, right when he had a thought about energy conservation and magic.

    ¡°My lords?¡± The voice was gruff, authoritative ¨C likely from a knight. ¡°Urgent summons from His Majesty.¡±

    Cole glanced at his watch. 2350? The fuck kinda king held midnight ¨C wait, didn¡¯t he say something about using the Scrying Pane?

    Yeah, he definitely did. And unless the damn thing broke in the time between Fotham¡¯s demonstration and now, whoever was on the other side of the door must¡¯ve been straight bullshitting.

    Cole set his pen and notebook down, swapping them out for his AK-74M. Everything seemed legit ¨C not in some Hollywood ¡®too legit¡¯ way, but in a genuinely authentic way. Shame Fotham¡¯s little sermon stripped their pro forma perfection of any legitimacy.

    But hey, maybe that was just his paranoia talking ¨C seeing patterns in perfectly innocent midnight summons from a king who¡¯d explicitly told them that he wouldn¡¯t be using midnight summons to reach them. Certainly wasn¡¯t suspicious at all that he¡¯d do so at their weakest, when the exhaustion of nearly dying, dimensional travel, and magical training would be hitting hardest.

    Three more knocks, as polite as the first set. ¡°My lords, His Majesty awaits.¡±

    As good as their facade was, they wouldn¡¯t keep it up forever. Cole needed to buy time ¨C enough for Miles and Ethan to get ready.

 Chapter 7: First Strike

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll be there. Just uh, give us a few minutes to wake up and change.¡±

    The same polite voice resounded from the door. ¡°Of course, my lord. We shall await your convenience.¡±

    Cole retreated to the bedrooms, shaking Miles and Ethan awake.

    Miles put on his vest. ¡°What¡¯s goin¡¯ on?¡±

    ¡°King allegedly wants to see us so he sends goons to pick us up instead of hopping on the magic mirror.¡±

    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ A,¡± Ethan grumbled. He readied his FAL. ¡°Plan?¡±

    The keyhole ahead was big enough for a peek. He could try to get a look, but if these weren¡¯t actually knights, getting close to that door was asking to catch a bullet to the eye. Good thing they had a Scrying Pane. Perhaps the other guard posts would know.

    ¡°Give me a sec. I¡¯ll check in with the guards.¡±

    Cole returned to the master bedroom, moving the dial to the first guard post.

    ¡°Yes, my lord?¡± A bearded face appeared, torchlight flickering behind him.

    ¡°Quick question. Did the King send anyone up to get us?¡±

    ¡°No, my lord.¡± The man frowned. ¡°His Majesty retired hours ago. Has someone ¨C¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Cole slapped the emergency rune before the guard could finish. Red light blazed across the mirror¡¯s surface.

    The pounding at the door started before the glow even faded. ¡°OPEN THIS DOOR!¡±

    ¡°Yo, they¡¯re getting antsy out here,¡± Ethan called out as the china set up by the door rattled.

    Shit. The emergency alert worked both fucking ways, apparently.

    Another slam hit the door as Cole stepped into the living room. There went any pretense of legitimacy. These fuckers had just been waiting for an excuse.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t lookin¡¯ good, Mercer.¡± Miles flipped over a heavy table, taking cover behind it.

    Cole positioned himself beside Miles, flipping his weapon¡¯s selector to auto before fishing out a flashbang from his kit. ¡°Yeah, no kidding.¡±

    The door pounded again, splinters of wood flying off. The hinges were probably a few more hits from complete failure ¨C maybe a minute before whoever was on the other side could force an entry.

    They needed a way out. The window was right there, bright moonlight spilling in, but¡­ well, it probably wasn¡¯t the best idea. Sure, he¡¯d managed to float his pack across the room earlier with barrier magic. Moving 30 pounds several feet without slipping had been hard enough; trying to control a full descent down four stories would be suicide. And that was just him.

    Miles couldn¡¯t even keep his pack from sliding off his barrier, and Ethan¡¯s attempt barely fared better. Maybe shape the barrier into a box and give themselves an elevator ride?

    Cole created a small proof-of-concept, the blue glow confirming it could work. Still, though, it wasn¡¯t something he wanted to try unless absolutely necessary.

    Parachute fall? They weren¡¯t designed for unassisted falls, but what if they could strengthen their entire bodies with magic, to absorb the shock? Same principle as their arms during training. But one screwup trying magic they¡¯d just learned today and they¡¯d be testing if those healers could put them back together. Not exactly Plan A material.

    Service corridor? Nah. Even if they could make a chokepoint out of it, all those locked doors meant they¡¯d just be trapping themselves. They could try following the path into the service floor, but who knew what the layout was like? Not to mention getting some maids caught in the crossfire. Heroes probably shouldn¡¯t start their career by getting civilians killed.

    What else was there? Window was out, service hall was out, and staying to fight completely hinged on help arriving promptly. They just needed any way out of this box ¨C one that Ethan¡¯s kit might just have a solution for.

    ¡°Walker, think you can make a hole into the next suite?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ethan grabbed his gear, already grabbing a breaching charge. ¡°Four minutes, tops.¡±

    4 minutes never sounded longer, though it wasn¡¯t as if there were any better options. ¡°Alright. We¡¯ll keep ¡®em busy. Let¡¯s just hope I¡¯m tripping.¡±

    For once he actually hoped he was just being paranoid as fuck about these ¡®knights.¡¯ If tonight was just a false alarm, he¡¯d gladly take the L on that one, and possibly try to find schizo meds. Castle maintenance was sure to bitch about the wall, but either way, they could take it up with whoever the fuck was trying to break down their door.

    A barrier materialized ahead of Miles ¨C akin to riot squad transparent plastic, but glowing blue. The angle and shape were good too; just enough space to work the shotgun¡¯s barrel through.

    Another hit rocked the door. Hinges had already popped out of the frame ¨C one, maybe two more before they were gone entirely. Cole kept his thumb on the spoon of his flashbang and worked the pin out.

    The door exploded inward. The first observation to grace his eyes was the fact that yes ¨C these guys were indeed knights. Brigandine armor, tabards, just like the guys they¡¯d seen patrolling. Most up front with swords, a couple in the back with older rifles ¨C probably earlier versions of the ones they had messed around with earlier..

    For a split second Cole wondered if he¡¯d fucked up; if this really was some official business and he was about to flashbang legit royal guards.

    But ain¡¯t no way did a mere summons demand a whole breaching operation, nor did it warrant the use of those big-ass anti-demon rifles. He was almost flattered they considered them that much of a threat ¨C which they were ¨C but fuck if it wasn¡¯t absurdly overkill. The two in the back raised their weapons, taking aim.

    And after all that talk about how bad they needed heroes? Yeah, these definitely were not the king¡¯s men.

    As muzzle flashes lit up the doorway, Cole tossed his flashbang and immediately prepped a grenade. The concussion should¡¯ve disoriented them, at least bought them a few crucial seconds, but these guys barely even flinched. Shit, they probably had that admittedly fantastic hearing protection under their helmets.

    The frag would have to do more work then. He tossed it over the front line, the little ball of death rolling right under the doorway as Miles let his shotgun ring. Blue barriers flickered into existence at shin height while he worked the pump.

    It was the type of shit Cole wished he could¡¯ve had available to him; God knows how useful even a trick like this would¡¯ve been. Coveting ¨C let alone implementing ¨C such cheap ass moves might¡¯ve hardly been fair or honorable, perhaps even unheroic. But it was damn effective, and all¡¯s fair in war ¨C especially when the enemy couldn¡¯t care less about stealing away a solid night¡¯s sleep.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The barriers caught their legs perfectly. First ¡®knight¡¯ hit it at a run, shins slamming straight into solid magic as the grenade detonated behind them. Somehow, tripping up seemed more effective at slowing them down.

    High explosive plus frag coil in an enclosed space? That equation was supposed to equal chunks of dead motherfucker. These knights, it seemed, remained unfazed by it, barely staggering.

    Their unholy shrieks and the purple blood leaking through the gaps confirmed what he¡¯d suspected in the split second they entered ¨C they were not human. It also confirmed another important thing: if they could bleed, they could die.

    Good thing Cole decided to go full auto.

    His 5.45 zipped through their brigandine armor easily enough, and while it was a relief that modern ammunition could still hold its weight, it ultimately didn¡¯t matter when the rounds did jack shit. They penetrated, yeah ¨C obvious enough given the blood flowing out, but they just kept pushing, absorbing the hits like they were nothing.

    Three rounds center mass would fold any normal human. These fuckers? Barely slowed. Five rounds into the same target and it still advanced. Damn near a half a mag later and the monster was finally starting to stumble, but its sword arm was still trying to come up for a swing. He tripped it up with barrier magic to cover his reload. It was like trying to take down a bear with nine mil ¨C possible, but not advisable.

    Miles¡¯ buckshot fared a hell of a lot better with the sheer kinetic energy and pellet count, having sent three of their number sprawling already. One got close to the table, but he caught it clean in the face. The helmet went flying and ¨C Jesus. Grey skin pulled tight over a skull that was all wrong, a human face melting into something not quite.

    Was this¡­ one of those demons Fotham had mentioned? The damn thing was basically a skinwalker ¨C some really uncanny valley type shit. Their disguises were falling apart now, that perfect royal guard illusion dissolving like a mirage. Maybe the magic couldn¡¯t hold up the damage. Or maybe they just didn¡¯t give a fuck about keeping up appearances anymore. Either way, what pushed through that doorway was not fucking human.

    The swordsman Cole had expended his partial mag on dashed straight for him, immediately throwing up a barrier ¨C just a flat plane of blue force between it and Cole¡¯s fire. The next two did the same. Miles¡¯ buckshot splattered harmlessly against the shields, which visibly thinned and flickered but didn¡¯t crack.

    Fuck. They hadn¡¯t even killed one of them yet, and they were already pulling some Phase 2 boss fight bullshit? For all intents and purposes, their fight just went from a battle against some unnaturally powerful knights to a deathmatch against shielded alien supersoldiers sans the plasma guns and laser swords ¨C and they didn¡¯t have power armor to even the scales.

    More pushed through behind them, each spawning their own protection. Eight of the sword-wielding bastards, all rushing them. As big as the room was, it might as well have been a closet with how fast they moved.

    They wouldn¡¯t be able to hold the table for long ¨C not that it mattered anyway. To make a fucked situation even worse, the air suddenly went arctic right along the table, threatening to freeze their balls off. Whatever it was, Cole definitely wasn¡¯t sticking around for it. He and Miles jumped backward just as spears of ice erupted from the overturned tabletop.

    Should¡¯ve fucking known they wouldn¡¯t stick to plain old swords. Sure, at some point he¡¯d expected to see what actual combat magic looked like in Tenria. He¡¯d been pretty damn curious about it, even.

    Just not a few hours after learning how to make a basic barrier. Not in a life-or-death slugfest.

    And now they were caught in the open, right in their enemy¡¯s line of sight. What the fuck could they do?

    Block those massive rifles with barriers they¡¯d barely learned to make? Shit, maybe Level 10 barriers would be enough, but risking their lives over it would be a fool¡¯s gambit. Getting the swordsmen between them and the gunners, on the other hand¡­

    Cole shifted left, trying to keep the charging skinwalkers between him and their riflemen. It worked; their own guys were blocking clear shots. Of course, they couldn¡¯t catch a damn break as their small victory was rendered completely moot by the inevitable closing of the gap. So much for keeping this a ranged engagement.

    At least proximity offered one consolation ¨C the beautiful irony in how close quarters nullified their barriers. They couldn¡¯t exactly bisect someone with a wall of their own design in the way. Be it through dispelling the shield or simply pushing it to the side, if they wanted to attack, they¡¯d first have to make themselves vulnerable.

    Coincidentally, the most vulnerable of the fuckers happened to be his first target, purple still leaking from where his AK had punched through earlier.

    The monster raised its sword, shield dropping just like he¡¯d hoped. Maybe being wounded made it expendable in whatever passed for their tactical doctrine, or maybe it was just too fucked up to swing fast enough. Cole put another burst through it, dodging back.

    The thing staggered but kept coming ¨C still took another two bursts before it finally went down. Shit, he may as well be playing Round 30 without Pack-a-Punch. Probably burned through another half a mag including the subsequent security tap, which wasn¡¯t really sustainable considering he had two left. But hey, one less skinwalker to worry about.

    Miles had his own problems sorted. He faced the one he blew the helmet off earlier, catching it exposed mid swing. The buckshot did what buckshot did best ¨C most of its head just wasn¡¯t there anymore; just gone with the fuckin¡¯ wind. Grey matter and bone fragments decorated the wall behind it, splattering what was probably a priceless painting. Oh well.

    The body dropped like a puppet, shield flickering out and sword clattering onto the floor. Two down ¨C a minor victory. Not incredible per se, considering the effort that went into killing just two of them, but force reduction was force reduction. At least they had 8 bullet sponges to worry about instead of 10.

    However, the skinwalkers¡¯ attacks were driving them apart ¨C Miles getting pressured toward the kitchen while the other half pushed Cole deeper into the living room. The enemy was trying to divide and conquer, but there was little he could do about it..

    The living room, thankfully enough, was built for some noble¡¯s fancy parties ¨C plenty of space to work with, even with furniture scattered about. Another creature charged from behind a couch, blade swinging diagonally across. Cole angled a barrier to match, turning a killing stroke into a wide miss. The sword slid harmlessly past.

    A shadow stretched across the floor from the windows ¨C another one trying to flank. Its thrust came straight on ¨C different problem entirely. No deflection angle would help when the point was coming right at his chest. Cole spawned a barrier offset to the side, catching the blade near its tip and forcing it to slide along the surface. The demon¡¯s momentum carried it forward while Cole backed toward the center of the room, away from the corner they were trying to push him into.

    The third rushed his new position from behind a toppled armchair, coming in high while he was managing those deflections. Another barrier, another deflected strike ¨C sword scraping off with a sound like steel on glass. Then the fourth pressed in from the direction of the front door, and his barrier wobbled before stabilizing.

    Fuck. This wasn¡¯t from magical strain; he had plenty left in the tank. Nah, this was just cognitive overload ¨C too much shit to worry about. Four different attacks, calculating angles, popping up barriers, trying to find an opening for his gun, managing positions¡­ it¡¯d probably be attrition that would fuck him over.

    And that¡¯s what made the next reprieve all the more appreciable. The one closest to him overcommitted, barrier nowhere to be found as it tried to take advantage of his tired guard. Cole had been waiting for exactly that kind of mistake. He emptied the last half of his mag straight into its skull, 5.45 rounds crashing into it in a spray of purple. He sidestepped as the body tumbled.

    Three down, probably. But that still left way too many of these fuckers, and now he only had two magazines left. They weren¡¯t giving him any breathing room either ¨C no chance to actually confirm the kill or adjust position outside of a few dashes.

    Cole hit his magazine release, arm already reaching for a fresh mag. The fencer that¡¯d lunged at him earlier came in for another strike. A barrier pushed the sword up and away, but then rifle fire cracked from the doorway.

    The rounds zipped past him, one striking the fencer square in the side. The shot ripped through the fencer, disintegrating it with the same brutality of a Bradley¡¯s autocannon on an insurgent. Gore splattered the dining area, scattered remnants of monstrous organs sullying velvet.

    One of the remaining two swordsmen got caught with shrapnel, sending it reeling ¨C hopefully dead, but Cole would more than settle for temporarily incapacitated.

    Four down and one out of commission, and he hadn¡¯t even lifted a finger. But fuck him if anything ever came easy.

    As ice began crystallizing across the floor, Cole pirouetted away from the jagged spears that erupted where he¡¯d been standing. Whether they¡¯d seen it coming or he¡¯d just been too caught up to see it coming, the result was the same: he¡¯d walked right into their trap.

    In that split second of divided attention, a vice-like grip caught his arm.

 Chapter 8: Mind-blowing

    The creature¡¯s glove clamped down on Cole¡¯s forearm, crushing it with the force of what was damn near an industrial press. His strengthening magic was the only thing keeping his arm intact, but that was a stopgap at best against this kind of force.

    He poured more mana into his arm, trying to reinforce the strengthening effect. The pain was tough to think through ¨C white-hot pulses shooting up into his shoulder and down into fingers, which were starting to go numb.

    He spawned a barrier around the trapped limb in the same moment, trying to reinforce whatever structural integrity he had left. But even with both magical defenses, the relentless bastard¡¯s grip yet threatened to pulverize everything underneath.

    With his arm holding together ¨C barely ¨C he tried to bring up his AK. If he could just spray into this thing¡¯s face, the pressure might let up long enough to break free. The barrel started to rise, but the monster¡¯s other hand shot out faster than he could track, grabbing the handguard and yanking. His entire upper body lurched forward.

    In the same instant, it cocked its leg back. Shit. Cole diverted some mana into his stomach and chest, spawning a barrier just as its boot landed on him.

    For a split second the pressure built like a garrote, rising almost instantly before the sling gave out with a sharp snap.

    His shoulder exploded in agony as the joint absorbed the full force of his body going one way while his arm stayed anchored. Something tore deep inside ¨C felt like he was literally getting disarmed as if this were a fucking Mortal Kombat fatality.

    The rifle went flying somewhere behind the false knight, but he could hardly register that through the pain racing across the entirety of his left arm and torso.

    Then metal scraped as the creature¡¯s sword cleared its sheath.

    He reached for his coat pocket, snapping his Glock 21 up. First instinct was to end this whole problem, so he spammed the trigger. Two rapid shots caught the monster square in the face before a barrier flashed into existence.

    The next string of .45 ACP splashed against the blue shield, sending it flickering but otherwise serving no greater use than throwing rocks at bulletproof glass. Cole stopped firing. He could probably break through the barrier with sheer firepower alone, but he had a more efficient idea.

    There was no way in hell he¡¯d be able to pop some bullets in its skull, but their sword arms always came out vulnerable ¨C had to, if they wanted to actually hit anything.

    Right on cue, the barrier dissipated, leaving the head and torso protected but the sword arm open. It probably realized its own weakness and swung from the right, but all that did was give away the perfect opening.

    Yeah, fuck the barrier. Cole shifted aim to the arm. The .45 punched through the armor, dull violet spraying from the impacts. Each round hit with the kind of stopping power that¡¯d usually fold someone, but this bastard barely seemed to care. Still, after five or six rounds the sword dropped ¨C probably more from mechanical damage than actual pain.

    Alas, the satisfaction of hearing metal hitting the floor was short-fucking-lived. The creature¡¯s face contorted into something horribly wrong. Its jaw stretched wider than bone structure should allow, the teeth looking¡­ almost human, but not quite. More uncanny valley bullshit.

    Somehow, the grey skin and inhuman features were but honorable mentions compared to the unsettling nature of the teeth. They seemed almost designed, as if someone had taken a human mouth and repurposed it for pure hunting ¨C an evolutionary mockery.

    It screeched, crying out with guttural bass and a pitched whine simultaneously.

    Cole kept shooting, but the creature didn¡¯t give a single shit about its mangled arm. With its sword gone, it instead pivoted and swung the wounded limb like a club.

    The strike came in faster than Cole could track, catching his wrist before he could avoid it. The impact felt like getting hit with a steel pipe; his hand went numb instantly. And the worst of it all? His Glock was sent flying somewhere into the chaos behind him.

    So now, that was his sidearm gone too ¨C with half a damn mag still in it. No rifle, no pistol, shoulder about to snap, and his left arm was still caught in a hydraulic press of a grip.

    Wait, it seemed looser now. Cole glanced down at it. He couldn¡¯t see much, but the position of the grip was definitely lower than it¡¯d been earlier; the bastard must¡¯ve lost some surface area when it kicked him.

    All the other realizations he¡¯d had today paled against the saving grace before him.

    Cole poured more mana into his trapped arm, expanding the existing barrier. The monster¡¯s grip stayed just as tight, but now he had a bit more control over the surface it was actually holding onto. He continued until there was a small gap between his arm and the magical surface.

    The theory was simple; it¡¯d be like pulling out an arm from a loose winter coat sleeve. The execution? Well, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he popped a vessel trying to squeeze out enough magic power to enlarge his makeshift sleeve. Fighting against that ugly bastard¡¯s strength was an idiotic idea, but an idea nonetheless. It was worth a shot, at least. Better than letting this thing pulverize his arm ¨C or his face, given the messed up baseball bat of an arm that now beelined toward him.

    He channeled strengthening into his legs and core. If he couldn¡¯t make the sleeve big enough, then pure mechanical leverage would have to do. The creature, at this point, still looked none the wiser. Perfect.

    Cole twisted and yanked with everything he had, streamlining his hand and arm for as smooth an exit as possible. His arm slipped free like it was greased, or like the barrier was frictionless. The sudden release of pressure made him stumble backward, but he quickly regained composure.

    The monster was left clutching an empty barrier that just vanished. The look of confusion on its warped face was almost worth the throbbing agony still pulsing through his shoulder. But it wasn¡¯t enough.

    Cole followed through with his advantage, channeling strengthening into his right leg as he drove his foot into the creature¡¯s chest. The enhanced kick connected solidly, sending his opponent staggering back a few steps ¨C not much, but even a few feet of breathing room was a luxury he wouldn¡¯t take for granted.

    Though¡­ breathing room meant jack shit when he was still basically unarmed and his left arm felt like it¡¯d been through a trash compactor. The hell was he gonna do now?

    The grotesque skinwalker between him and his guns looked just as pissed before ¨C maybe more, given the trick he¡¯d just pulled. Nasty customer, and the one that got knocked down earlier was already forcing itself up.

    Miles looked to be faring a bit better than him, but the man had his own shitstorm to deal with. Getting help from him now would be impossible. Ethan? He wouldn¡¯t make it in time, and he had his own mission to do anyway.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Damnit. He had to end this quick before things got exponentially worse.

    His knife was still on his belt, and he had grenades. Actually, maybe the knife could work if he amped up his strength with magic ¨C more force behind each strike, better chance of punching through.

    But shit, that was just theory. Was he really gonna bet his life on untested knife fighting techniques? Absolutely fucking not, especially not against armor that looked like it was designed to repel blades and claws alike. Especially not when he hadn¡¯t actually gotten the chance to recover his energy outside of a mana drink. Hell, his head was already starting to pound again; any more and he¡¯d probably keel over in a seizure.

    Even if he could pull it off, these things ate 5.45 like it was airsoft. Multiple far-fetched stabs through armor just to maybe hit something vital, all while its buddies closed in on him? Might as well try fighting a family of bears with a box cutter.

    The grenades weren¡¯t much better. These bastards had already shrugged off explosions that would¡¯ve turned humans into confetti. Standard frag basically just pissed them off.

    Though¡­ if he was gonna have to get close anyway¡­

    He almost dismissed the ludicrous idea, but fuck if it wasn¡¯t actually the most promising ¨C and, quite honestly, most badass ¨C thing he could think up. What else did he even have? Barriers barely slowed them down, bullets just pissed them off unless he wasted a mag, and his experimental knife-fighting could definitely wait for another day. On the other hand¡­

    Shoving a grenade in this thing¡¯s face would be a hell of a coup de grace, if only he could manage to pull it off.

    Cole reached for a frag grenade. Getting grabbed again was a risk he really didn¡¯t want to take. One more squeeze and he might actually need that arm regrown.

    His current mortal enemy charged before he could fully work out the timing, its jaw unhinging in another screech. Shit, if it wanted a meal that bad, he¡¯d give it a real banger.

    The spoon stayed pressed under his palm while he yanked the pin free.

    The damn thing¡¯s maw gaped wider as it approached, ready to take his head off. Cole strengthened his right arm, muscles burning with the sudden surge of power. He dunked the grenade down that orthodontic nightmare like he was trying to posterize someone.

    A barrier snapped into place over its mouth before it could even try to throw it up ¨C might as well seal the present inside. Cole spawned another at its feet while channeling mana into his legs. No way the bastard was gonna get away from what was coming.

    His strengthened kick caught it dead in the back. The thing tripped over the barrier, eating shit face-first into the floor.

    The contained blast did exactly as physics dictated. Instead of spraying outward like a standard grenade, all that force had nowhere to go but through the bastard¡¯s skull. Purple mist and chunks of flesh painted the ceiling in a cone of gore. The body stayed down this time ¨C no more getting back up after that.

    Time to get his weapons back. His AK was first priority ¨C not like he was gonna find his Glock in all this chaos. He snatched up the rifle, checking his remaining mags: one in the weapon, one on his vest. Terrible odds.

    That¡¯s when he spotted the sword the monster had dropped earlier. Shit, when was the last time he had used one of these things? A faint shimmer ran along its edge as he picked it up ¨C some kind of enchantment, maybe. Way better than trying to make do with his KA-BAR and some barriers if things got close again.

    He slid the blade through his belt on his left side; not ideal, but he couldn¡¯t waste time wrestling the scabbard off the corpse.

    A sharp crack echoed from the hallway behind them.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Ethan called out.

    Smoke and debris billowed from the fresh hole in the bedroom wall. Ethan dove through first, followed by Miles.

    ¡°Covering!¡± Round from Ethan¡¯s FAL zipped past Cole as he broke for the breach.

    Through the debris cloud, one of the false knights rushed after them. Its barrier flashed blue as Ethan hammered it. The 7.62 rounds cracked through after maybe the eighth shot, the blue plane shattering with an ear-shattering whine. The subsequent shots hit center mass, spraying purple.

    Miles¡¯ shotgun finished what Ethan started. The creature¡¯s head disappeared in a spray of blood while Ethan reloaded.

    Through the breach, the adjacent suite looked empty ¨C clean beds, untouched furniture. Cole swept through it by himself while Miles and Ethan held the line, taking full ¨C albeit temporary ¨C advantage of the chokepoint the breach offered them.

    Their weapons kept echoing as Cole approached the suite¡¯s exit; the sound of sustained fire told him enough about how their rear security was going.

    He laid a hand on the doorknob, keeping his AK ready. Of course, the moment he cracked the door, he damn near ate a rifle round to the face. One of those big anti-demon guns pointed right at him from the hallway. He squeezed the trigger while throwing himself backward, spraying through the doorway.

    The first few bullets caught the monster in the chest, more ripping through its throat and jaw as he moved. The thing¡¯s return fire went wide, but fuck if Cole was gonna give it another chance. He continued emptying the mag onto the downed creature, pausing his fire only to address a new threat that had appeared in the doorway.

    Shit. He swiveled his weapon up, but its sight was already on him. No time to dodge, and he sure as shit wouldn¡¯t be able to block one of those damn cannonballs. The best he could do was throw up a half-assed barrier to nudge its aim.

    He spawned one at the rifle¡¯s barrel, pushing it to the side. It fired, still aimed in his general direction.

    The round caught something ¨C slammed his AK sideways with enough force to stagger him. His brain went straight to getting shot, that split second of his life movie playing before realizing he could still breathe; that he could still feel his body. No blood, no pain splitting through his torso¡­ did he get lucky?

    Cole glanced down. Yeah, his chest was intact, alright. But the AK? It looked torn to shit. The round must¡¯ve grazed it ¨C the gas tube was shredded where the bullet had ripped past it, taking a chunk of metal with it.

    He worked the charging handle anyway. AKs were pretty famous for eating shit and asking for seconds, but he was probably asking for too much by now. Complete failure to feed, as expected. Of course ¨C the rifle was toast.

    Gotta at least even the playing field. Cole drew his sword, channeling mana into the blade just like he had with the rifle at the armory. Maybe if he could close the distance before it got another shot off¡­ yeah, one good hit to that rifle and they¡¯d both be stuck with medieval options.

    He lunged forward, propelling himself with strengthened legs before he swung his blade up in a powered arc. The enchanted metal struck the last rifleman¡¯s weapon just below the magazine. It didn¡¯t cut through, but the impact knocked it loose from the well. The force of the blow probably fucked up the internal feed mechanism too, maybe even warped the bolt. Either way, that thing wouldn¡¯t cycle right anymore even if the bastard managed to get another mag in.

    But three more of his buddies materialized in the doorway, blades already drawn. Shit, they¡¯d started out facing ten of these abominations. If they¡¯d eliminated six, and three were still behind the breach, who the hell were these newcomers?

    Cole fell back through the living room, regrouping with Miles and Ethan just outside the bedrooms. As much as he¡¯d like to believe he could take on four opponents with his sword, Cole wasn¡¯t exactly itching to test that theory. Between the shoulder that felt ready to fall off and these things being basically medieval Terminators, it probably wouldn¡¯t end well.

    ¡°Four contacts, front door. Three new ¨C reinforcements, I think.¡±

    ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake. Seven left, then,¡± Miles groaned. He spared a glance at Cole, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Where the fuck¡¯s your gun?¡±

    Cole had almost forgotten he¡¯d been gripping that sword. ¡°It¡¯s cooked.¡±

    Miles reloaded his Benelli M4. ¡°I¡¯ve still got another tube left.¡± He pressed his AKS onto Cole, plus three extra mags. Santa must¡¯ve come early this year.

    But as much as Cole welcomed the offer, all it did was slightly alleviate already terrible circumstances. They were running on fumes, both physically and magically. Well, Ethan probably still had juice in the tank, but that wouldn''t mean shit once his last mag ran dry.

    Boxed in and surrounded with no way out? Deja vu kicked in as Cole assessed their options ¨C or spectacular lack thereof. Hell, unless they were gonna get isekai¡¯d a second time, they were screwed. Miles had seen it coming the moment they landed: same shit, different toilet.

 Chapter 9: Locked In

    One group of monsters by the breach, another by the doorway, and not enough ammo to deal with either ¨C oh, if only the situation were conducive to a happy ending. Cole checked the AKS in his hand. Well, maybe they did have enough ammo to deal with one of the groups, but only if isolated. ¡°Man¡­ Fuck the demons.¡±

    ¡°Hell, we shoulda taken the King¡¯s deal.¡± Miles shifted his grip on his shotgun.

    ¡°Amen to that,¡± Ethan said. ¡°What¡¯s the plan, Mercer?¡±

    Their best bet was to push through one side ¨C likely the breach side, since they¡¯d already been in the mud with them, but how long would that take? The ones pushing in from the suite would undoubtedly shaft them before they could take down all three.

    The window maybe? Nah, that was still solidly a fuck no. Another breach? They wouldn¡¯t have the time. The service corridor? Shit, it might actually work now. Tight quarters were usually a death sentence, but Cole had already trashed the monsters¡¯ rifles. All they¡¯d need to do is send rounds down the corridor, then potentially blow past a doorway if they still needed to run.

    ¡°Service corridor. One long chokepoint.¡± The AKS felt too light in his hands ¨C he¡¯d kill for his M7 or even a good ol¡¯ M4 right about now.

    ¡°Fuck it,¡± Ethan agreed.

    Cole backed up to the service corridor, keeping his AKS trained on the hallway connected to the main suite. The damn things should be coming in right about now¡­

    The gunfire hit like a thunderclap. The fuck? Those were Celdornian rifles, but much greater in volume ¨C too much for the two who¡¯d had rifles earlier.

    Cole immediately dropped into a crouch. He fought through the pain in his left hand as he opened the door to the corridor behind him. Miles¡¯ remained still in his peripheral vision ¨C he still kept watch over the breach.

    Something massive hit the floor in the main room, the impact rattling the walls hard enough to shake the entire suite. Another crash followed alongside a shriek that lasted a good microsecond before being cut off. It was just gone, like someone hit a mute button.

    The sustained fire kept up for maybe a couple seconds, eight shots in total ¨C two for each monster out in the suite, maybe.

    More shots cracked from the breach behind them; more shrill, abruptly silenced cries piercing through the deafening booms. This had to be the castle¡¯s guards responding to the alert. Who else could the monsters be fighting? Who else could they be dying to?

    The gunfire ceased, but the tinnitus was pervasive as ever. Man, he should¡¯ve grabbed one of those steampunk-looking ear pros from the range when he had the chance.

    Through the ringing, a long whistle carried from the entrance. An answering whistle echoed from behind the breach.

    Thank fuck. That was basic communication ¨C position check between units. The monsters that had threatened to overrun their position barely a minute ago were nowhere to be found, likely shot dead by the mysterious benefactors whistling to each other. Unless this was some sort of convoluted 4D chess play, they might actually have backup.

    ¡°Lieutenant?¡±

    Cole maintained his line of sight. ¡°That you, Fotham?¡±

    ¡°I should think so, unless these fiends have some rather brilliant strategy in mind. For what demon, having mastered our arms at last, would not immediately set about reducing its own kind to ruin? ¡±

    Yeah, that was Fotham alright. He had a good point; if they were another batch of those skinwalkers, why would they kill each other? Why waste time yapping instead of pushing in to finish the job? False flag? Doubtful.

    Might as well see what had happened. ¡°Alright, hold fire; we¡¯re coming out now.¡±

    The scene that greeted him as he stepped out of the hallway made their earlier firefight look like a paintball match. Their 5.45 and 7.62 had punched clean holes; the guards¡¯ rifles had torn entire chunks out of the monsters instead. One by the door was basically bisected, its torso opened up like someone had taken an Apache¡¯s chain gun fire chest-on. The fancy furniture hadn¡¯t fared much better ¨C looked like a recreation of the lobby scene from The Matrix, but with artillery instead of small arms.

    Fotham stood in the center of a formation, flanked by the bearded guard from the Scrying Pane. Only when they lowered their weapons did Cole finally allow himself to relax.

    Miles whistled as he emerged from the hallway. ¡°Great fuckin¡¯ timing.¡±

    Guards moved around the room, shoving and twisting their swords into each corpse.

    The bodies were barely recognizable as the ¡®knights¡¯ that had forced their way into their suite earlier. Whatever glamor they¡¯d used had completely failed, leaving only their true, fugly forms sprawled through the wreckage.

    The purple gore splattered throughout the room would probably render it ¨C or perhaps even the entire wing ¨C unusable for a while. Some of the bodies had limbs and parts hanging by muscle fibers ¨C literal threads. But that wasn¡¯t even the worst part. That handedly went to their uncanny faces, frozen in horrid expressions. Shit, it¡¯d probably belong in some creepypasta hall of fame.

    The plan had been to push through to the service corridor, but now he had a bigger concern: Mack.

    ¡°The infirmary ¨C¡±

    ¡°Already secured,¡± Fotham answered. ¡°It seems all the demons consolidated here, to see you dead.¡±

    ¡°How many did you get?¡± Cole asked.

    Fotham pointed to the four new smears sitting around the suite¡¯s living room. ¡°Four here.¡±

    Another guard approached, coming from the direction of the breach. ¡°My lord, we¡¯ve slain three demons in the other chambers. No sign of further intruders.¡±

    Seven total, then. Plus the six they¡¯d killed earlier, that meant all 13 fake knights had been eliminated ¨C unless there were more infiltrators hiding around. ¡°Yeah, looks like you got all the ones we found.¡±

    Fotham nodded. ¡°Now then, Lieutenant. I believe we should get you and your team to the infirmary. That arm needs attention, and I imagine you¡¯d like to check on your friend. I trust you can explain how this began?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Following Fotham out the door, they walked past patrol after patrol of castle guards. ¡°Started around midnight; we got a knock at the door ¨C your knights, supposedly. Said that His Majesty had summoned us. Urgent business, couldn¡¯t wait.¡±

    ¡°Most urgent indeed, that they might bypass proper protocol.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s how I knew. Y¡¯know, I probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to tell otherwise if not for the question of their presence. Why were they even here? They knew every detail of palace etiquette, responded perfectly to each question, even adjusted their approach when I pretended to cooperate.¡±

    ¡°Hell, coulda fooled me,¡± Miles added. He kept his weapon down, but kept a hand near his weapon¡¯s ejection port ¨C probably to ghost load it.

    ¡°Mhmm. Complete discipline ¡®til the alert, anyway,¡± Cole continued. ¡°Then they dropped the act; started banging on the door. The moment that door went down, they went on the offensive. Weird thing was though, even after their facade dropped, they used tools like humans would ¨C guns, swords, magic. Didn¡¯t use ¡®em great, but the fact they could use ¡®em at all¡­¡±

    ¡°Most troubling indeed.¡± For the first time since Cole had met him, Fotham¡¯s aristocratic polish cracked. ¡°We¡¯ve heretofore encountered cunning demons, yet naught like this. We¡¯ve learned them to be creatures of instinct, at times with the intellect of any predator, but of instinct nonetheless.

    He shook his head, continuing, ¡°That they should comprehend our weaponry is disquieting enough. This¡­ is new. Never before have we observed demons possessed of such faculty for¡­ mockery.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Skinwalkers,¡± Miles suggested.

    ¡°More like uhh¡­¡± Ethan rubbed his chin, stalling. Searching for the right word? Finally, he settled. ¡°Mimics. Though it looks like they¡¯ve skipped the treasure chest and grimoire evolutionary phase.¡±

    ¡°Mimic? Hah, perhaps it may fit ¨C unsettlingly well. I must concede, though an affront, their craft is disturbingly fine. A jest at our expense¡­¡±

    Cole¡¯s shoulder burned as the adrenaline started wearing off ¨C sharp, stabbing pain whenever he moved it. Torn ligaments, maybe? His forearm felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire, static shooting through his fingers when he tried to make a fist ¨C nerve compression. He shifted his weapon to a one-handed grip, his left arm hanging damn near useless. Even gravity hurt like a bitch; the shoulder was definitely fucked up, maybe even dislocated.

    Thank God they¡¯d just arrived at the infirmary.

    Thank God Mack was safe.

    There he was, still in his bed ¨C still breathing, still alive. Apparently, the demons hadn¡¯t even bothered touching the infirmary; they probably wrote off Mack as a non-issue given his condition and instead gathered their forces just for them. Still, it was a relief to see the man safe and sound ¨C with 4 guards watching over him like guardian angels, at that.

    One of the healers ¨C not Elina, some older woman ¨C immediately made for Cole¡¯s arm. ¡°I¡¯m Dr. Halloway, and it shall be my honor to see you mended. My lord, if you¡¯d be so kind as to sit¡­¡±

    ¡°Cole Mercer.¡± Cole dropped into the indicated hospital bed, keeping his eyes on Mack. ¡°Thanks, Doc. My arm ¨C a demon gripped it pretty damn hard. I¡¯m lucky it didn¡¯t take the arm clean off.¡±

    The doctor took some notes while a younger guy handed him some strange colored drink ¨C another potion. ¡°For the pain, sir.¡±

    Cole eyed the mixture. Yet another mystery drink. There was no way of knowing what passed for painkillers here, but these folk seemed to know what they were doing. Fuck it. He downed it in one go.

    The effect was immediate ¨C pain fading to a dull throb as warmth spread through his chest. Then came the floating sensation, like the edge of a really good morphine dose but without the complete mental fog.

    Fotham pulled over a chair, settling down beside them as the woman carefully removed his sleeve and started with regular checks ¨C pressing specific points, testing range of motion.

    ¡°Agh,¡± Cole grunted. ¡°Shoulder¡¯s dislocated.¡±

    The doctor nodded, jotting down a note. ¡°Indeed it is. Your arm has suffered much, and this shoulder joint fares no better. The ball has been forced from its proper place ¨C a dislocation, as you¡¯ve pointed out. Fortunately, that alone appears to be the extent of your mechanical injuries.¡±

    Cole almost felt like sighing, but he wasn¡¯t out of the woods just yet. If anything required internal imaging or surgery, he¡¯d probably be fucked. How would they even diagnose any deeper issues?

    ¡°Before I restore the joint, however, we must first tend to these other injuries. Now, I shall guide a flow of mana through your veins to better understand your condition. Do remain still, and pray, resist not; any disruption might obscure what I seek to uncover.¡±

    Huh, so that¡¯s how they got by without imaging. She channeled a trickle mana into Cole¡¯s collarbone, directing it through his injured arm until it reached his fingers. Warmth flowed along his bloodstream ¨C no issues with just the trickle.

    ¡°The numbness in my fingers is probably nerve compression,¡± Cole offered. ¡°Woulda crushed my arm completely if I hadn¡¯t used strengthening and barrier magic.¡±

    ¡°A wise precaution indeed, Sir Cole,¡± the healer replied. ¡°You¡¯ve certainly spared yourself a graver injury, though what remains mustn¡¯t be ignored. I shall now increase the flow of mana. Pray, remain still.¡±

    The first anomaly presented itself almost immediately. The warmth of mana snagged near the shoulder joint, faltering sharply at the back of the joint and consolidating there. That confirmed the dislocation, alright.

    The healer inserted new mana past that, starting with the upper shoulder instead of the clavicle. His biceps and triceps seemed perfectly fine, but faltered again near the middle of his forearm, right where the demon had gripped him. The warmth congested, creating a dull ache where the flow faltered. ¡°Another obstruction,¡± she observed.

    ¡°Swelling, hematomas, I¡¯m guessing,¡± Cole offered.

    ¡°Accumulation of blood, yes.¡± Dr. Halloway intensified the mana flow, directing it toward the blockage. The warmth pressed harder until ¨C fuck ¨C it burst through all at once, sending a rush of sharp relief down his arm. ¡°There ¨C the flow resumes, though the tissues remain inflamed. I¡¯ll heal this momentarily, but first, allow me to check for any other obstructions.¡±

    She ran the mana through Cole¡¯s arm again. ¡°The bone itself remains whole, fortunately. No scattering, no cold voids ¨C the hallmarks of fractures are absent. I find only bruising here, no breaks to the structure.¡±

    ¡°And bleeding? Internal, I mean.¡±

    The healer inclined her head. ¡°Hmm. Were there ruptured vessels, the mana would stagnate completely. Here, it flows, however diminished. The swelling arises from strain alone, not internal bleeding.¡±

    The healer¡¯s smile as she looked up was probably one of the most reassuring things he¡¯d seen today. ¡°The finer structures remain sound. This confirms what I suspected ¨C the damage is superficial. Now, let us address these injuries.¡±

    The healer began her work. A blue glow graced her hands, warmth spreading into Cole¡¯s forearm as he turned to Fotham.. ¡°These Mimics ¨C I¡¯m guessing these demons are new, then?¡±

    Fotham sunk into his seat. He looked like he at least retained a modicum of composure, but Cole didn¡¯t need telepathy to know that he was dealing with the potential end of the world. ¡°Yes¡± was all he could say.

    ¡°Well, I sure am looking forward to a shapeshifter shanking me in my sleep.¡± Not the best thought, but hey, at least he could move his fingers now without a bombardment of static.

    His delivery also seemed to lighten Fotham¡¯s mood a bit. ¡°Ha! A fair concern, and one not without merit. Though perhaps¡­ Such an illusion ¨C if indeed it is an illusion ¨C would demand a steady flow of magical energy to sustain. A costly trick, I¡¯d wager. Hmm¡­¡± He stood from his seat.

    ¡°What, you got something?¡± Cole exhaled through his teeth. Dr. Halloway¡¯s magic now had the tissue in his arm wriggling around, like a damn chestburster ready to pop out and say hi. As futile as ignoring it was, he tried anyway.

    ¡°Our nullification fields, yes. We use them to suppress magical interference.¡± Fotham motioned the bearded guard over. ¡°You there ¨C organize a team to fetch what nullifiers may be spared from the dungeons and laboratories. Test every soul in the castle, starting with those here in the infirmary.¡±

    The knight offered a shallow bow and moved to assemble others.

    Turning back to Cole, Fotham¡¯s tone softened, though his words retained their bite. ¡°Now, you¡¯ll remain here. This is now the most secure location at our disposal. And you¡­ Well, you have the look of a man who¡¯s had sport enough for one night. I¡¯d not burden you further. Rest well; we shall discuss further on the morrow.¡±

    ¡°Yeap,¡± Cole winced as Dr. Halloway finally popped his shoulder back in.

    Fotham prepared to leave, but Ethan called out before he could take another step toward the door. ¡°Wait! We gotta grab what¡¯s left of our gear. If any of it survived.¡±

    ¡°Could use some of them rifles y¡¯all got, too,¡± Miles added. ¡°And them ear pros, while we¡¯re at it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it.¡±

    ¡°His Majesty approaches!¡± The call came from outside, followed by the sharp sound of boots hitting tile as guards rushed to position. The patrol outside the infirmary doors snapped to attention.

    King Armonde entered with his personal guard. Their brigandine wasn¡¯t the usual scaled armor Cole had seen on regular guards ¨C the scales had some iridescent sheen he hadn¡¯t seen before, reinforced with some silvery metal that was probably mithril or some other fancy fantasy material. High-end shit, undoubtedly. Wouldn¡¯t surprise him if those scales came from an actual dragon or something equally legendary.

    Fotham bowed deeply. ¡°Your Majesty, a most timely arrival. I believe I may have devised a means to unmask these infiltrators.¡± He relayed the same plan he¡¯d given the bearded guard.

    That got the king¡¯s attention real quick. ¡°Very well. See that it¡¯s done swiftly.¡±

    He turned his attention to Cole and his team as Fotham left. Despite sobering up a bit from his slumber, the half-elf king still looked like he¡¯d aged a decade since their first meeting, which couldn¡¯t have been more than what, twelve hours ago? ¡°Lieutenant, Sergeants. I¡¯m relieved to see you well after the recent incursion.¡±

    ¡°Could be worse. S¡¯pose we oughta be glad we ain¡¯t headin¡¯ out in body bags,¡± Miles said, deadpan. He didn¡¯t mince words ¨C not at all ¨C and Cole couldn¡¯t really blame him. At least his tone was polite enough to avoid trouble, if only just.

    Cole braced, but nothing happened. Of all the reactions he could¡¯ve expected, regret wasn¡¯t one of them. Accountability even less so. ¡°A tragedy, were it so. It was no failure of your own that placed you in such danger. You have my word on that.¡±

    Whether it came from genuine concern or just the cold calculus of keeping his best assets alive, at least the King gave enough of a shit to say it. Words were cheap, even sincere ones. But it was more than he expected.

    ¡°Though you were not yet sworn to the service of Celdorne, you fought as if you were,¡± Armonde continued. ¡°It is no small thing to rise so readily against an enemy that sought to unmake you ere you might render a decision. Few men would have done so, and for your valor, you have my deepest commendation.¡±

    Words like these were nothing new, or so Cole thought. Polished speeches from polished men, always meant to rile up a crowd, instill purpose; instill a sense of honor. But be it through authenticity or tact, the king¡¯s words somehow felt different.

    ¡°Though I cannot restore to you the night, I would extend to you the morrow. I will not intrude further, nor would I think ill should my kingdom¡¯s shortcomings weigh upon your thoughts. Rest, and be untroubled by imposition or demand.¡±

    Armonde turned to leave, but the truth was, Cole didn¡¯t need another night to think it over. At this point, Celdorne didn''t even need to sweet-talk them with a quid pro quo or burden them with unsettled debts.

    These demons had made it pretty damn clear what they thought of Earth¡¯s finest crashing their party. Honestly, it was pretty smart of them to try and eliminate the kingdom¡¯s heroes before they became a threat. Too bad all they¡¯d done was make it personal ¨C and now they¡¯d learn exactly why trying to kill them early was the right instinct.

    ¡°Your Majesty ¨C no need to wait ¡®til tomorrow. We¡¯re in.¡±

 Chapter 10: In The Bag

    Consciousness returned in stages ¨C first the phantom throbbing in his shoulder, then the realization that the sunlight hitting the far wall came from directly overhead. Shit, was it afternoon?

    Head was clearer than it had any right to be, though, given the doses of strange medicine the healers had given him. There was none of that post-morphine dissociative haze, no residual narcotic fog. Instead, Cole simply felt well-rested, with full awareness. Now, this part of Celdornian medicine he could get behind ¨C none of that horror show that came with watching flesh knit itself back together.

    He rubbed his eyes.

    The first face he registered was a pretty one ¨C though he still wasn¡¯t used to how elves made ¡®pretty¡¯ look almost alien. Nice way to wake up though, even if it was well past morning. There was something familiar about her though¡­ right, Dr. Gracer from their arrival, Elina. Must¡¯ve taken over from Halloway after last night.

    She was bent over his arm, hands aglow with soft white light. ¡°Ah, Lieutenant Mercer, you¡¯re awake! How do you fare?¡±

    Cole tested his shoulder. It had a surprising range of motion. Still hurt a bit, but it was definitely more manageable compared to last night; maybe like the difference between a fresh injury and a week of proper rehab, somehow compressed into a few hours. ¡°Like a demon tried to tear off my arm. Better than it should be, though.¡±

    Elina smiled. ¡°Well, most who endure the misfortune of a demon¡¯s assault fare worse still. And though you¡¯re hardly in a position to attempt it at present, I must insist you refrain from any strenuous magic for the next several hours. You¡¯ve just recovered your mana; it wouldn¡¯t do to once more succumb to exhaustion.¡±

    ¡°Definitely ain¡¯t planning on it, Doc.¡± Cole shifted. He was gonna ask something since he was here¡­ What was it? He¡¯d been meaning to since they first dropped off Mack ¨C ah! ¡°Say, uh¡­ any sicknesses I should watch out for? Y¡¯know, being from somewhere completely different and all.¡±

    Elina tilted her head. ¡°Ah! You speak of foreign maladies. I assure you, there¡¯s no cause for concern. I¡¯ve not heard a story of any summoned hero suffering ill effects. Though, should you request it, I can continue to monitor you.¡±

    ¡°Shit, that¡¯s good to know. Yeah, I think we¡¯ll take you up on that offer. Anyway, what time is it?¡± Cole groaned.

    ¡°2 in the afternoon.¡±

    Strange how the similarities kept piling. Units of measurement, from feet to pounds, and now this? Well, he¡¯d probably get to the bottom of it one day. Cole set the thought aside and glanced at the stand beside him. The empty vial of blue liquid was probably the reason why his new organ didn¡¯t feel fucked; why his head felt clear.

    Across the room, Ethan was knocked out in his bed, clutching a pillow while mumbling something about Lizzie.

    Damn. Cole had almost forgotten ¨C not about being summoned; it was hard to forget that part ¨C but about what it really meant. Somewhere back home, Ethan¡¯s wife would be getting the full military widow treatment ¨C two Class-As on the doorstep with a chaplain in tow, one of those folded flags that made everything worse, followed by carefully curated words about duty and sacrifice. As if the right combo of ¡®honor¡¯ and ¡®service¡¯ and other platitudes could fill the hole left when learning her husband would never be coming back home.

    Macy would be getting the same notification, too. And Mom. And Dad. His little sister ¨C who¡¯d endured years of operational blackouts, clinging to stupid 3 AM meme texts just to know he was alive ¨C would find herself back in that familiar hell. And now Macy, of all people, would join that exclusive club nobody wanted membership in: uniformed strangers at the door, shattering her world with the news about her brother.

    Except he, Ethan, Miles, and Mack weren¡¯t actually dead; they¡¯d been saved by a miracle. Hell, Ethan was right here, alive and whole, murmuring his wife¡¯s name while sleeping off a night of keeping demons from murdering them in their beds. Then again, ¡®saved¡¯ was probably a semantic stretch when factoring in all the bullshit they¡¯d been through.

    And Miles? He probably had his own way of processing it all ¨C compartmentalization; flipping the switch. Pieces of his shotgun lay scattered across a white towel, glistening clean and free from demon blood. It was a common ritual ¨C one Cole had done himself a few times. If he just kept his hands busy, he wouldn¡¯t have to think about shit; just the next objective after the next.

    Miles fit the Delta paradigm well enough ¨C no wife to wait for him, no kid to bring him home, only an empty apartment and the ghost of a mother¡¯s prayers. He had his team, sure, but outside the missions? When the adrenaline faded and the silence crept in?

    Some men turned to God in those moments. Miles? He hadn¡¯t yet, but he probably should. The empty plate beside him said everything about how this was going. That kind of emptiness had an expiration date. As unsustainable as it was though, it did its job ¨C push through one more objective, zip past another hour without facing the void. And Cole¡¯s growling stomach did just that.

    But it was Elina¡¯s voice that truly pulled him back from the abyss. ¡°Famished, are you?¡± she asked with a smile. ¡°It was quite a night, or so I¡¯ve heard. Sit tight; I¡¯ll fetch something from the kitchens. Do you care for aught in particular?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Cole glanced at Miles¡¯ empty plate. ¡°Ay, Garrett! What¡¯d they hook you up with?¡±

    ¡°Standard breakfast. Somethin¡¯ damn close to a Waffle House All-Star: got the bacon, eggs, bread, sausages, some waffles, y¡¯know. And you ain¡¯t gonna believe this ¨C they got actual miso. Like, real, legit Japanese miso.¡±

    Cole raised an eyebrow. Given everything else he¡¯d seen in this place, miso didn¡¯t seem that weird. But Miles had gotten him with dumber shit before. ¡°Deadass?¡±

    ¡°Deadass. Ain¡¯t lyin¡¯, ain¡¯t got a reason to. See for yourself.¡±

    ¡°He speaks true,¡± Elina chimed in. ¡°That would be Aurelia¡¯s doing ¨C their merchants bring such delicacies through the port often.¡±

    Aurelia. Fotham had brought it up yesterday, some wealthy foreign empire that the Celdornians didn¡¯t seem to like much. ¡°How¡¯d they even get miso?¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡°There''s a rumor that one of their summoned champions introduced the recipe, perhaps a century past.¡±

    Huh. So, summoning magic had been used before. Wasn¡¯t much of a surprise, given how prepared the kingdom was, but it lent credence to the theory he¡¯d been cooking up for why the whole place seemed so¡­ Victorian.

    ¡°Alright. Guess I¡¯ll have the ¡®standard breakfast¡¯, then. Plus the miso.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± Elina headed for the door.

    Barely a couple minutes after she left, the infirmary door opened again. Cole looked up expecting breakfast, but instead there was Fotham hauling backpacks. Though, to label them simply ¡®backpacks¡¯ hardly did them justice. Runes traced the major seams ¨C load-bearing points, mostly ¨C and there were crystal slots just like their rifles had, positioned wherever those runic patterns intersected.

    ¡°Lieutenant, Sergeants.¡± Fotham approached the beds. ¡°I trust you¡¯re recovering well?¡±

    Cole sat up in his bed, studying his face. ¡°Getting there. Though it looks like you might need to spend a night here, too.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps I ought, when the castle¡¯s been purified.¡± Fotham set down the rucksacks, then lowered himself into the chair between them with a slack posture, as if even sitting required effort. ¡°We¡¯ve uncovered two more demons playing at guards ¨C this time posted at the western gate. Rest¡­ Rest shall come later, should fortune deign to care for my plight.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Miles stopped working on his shotgun. ¡°Y¡¯all went over the kitchen?¡±

    ¡°First place we checked.¡± Fotham gave what might¡¯ve been a chuckle if he¡¯d had more energy. ¡°Fear not; were your food poisoned, I assure you, you¡¯d not have made it past the first bite.¡±

    Miles frowned. ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Half the castle has been scoured ¨C the infirmary itself, along with the service floors, kitchens, and guard posts within its immediate vicinity. You¡¯ve no cause to leave the secured zones; indeed, I should think it inconceivable. But should necessity demand otherwise, you need first pass through the nullification field checkpoint at the main entrance. I trust that is clear.¡±

    ¡°As day, Director.¡± Cole pointed at the bags. ¡°So, what¡¯s with those?¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± Fotham straightened slightly, picking up one of the bags. ¡°Given recent events, it seems only fitting to equip you as befits Slayers of the Office. These packs bear enchantments ¨C standard issue.¡±

    Cole got out of his bed and studied the bag. Up near the top sat a familiar crystal socket ¨C same basic setup as the rifles. Purple runes clustered thick around the straps, with more running through the back where the weight usually tried to pull on the spine. Smaller arrays circled the zippers and clasps, probably keeping things stable when loaded up. ¡°Weight reduction, I¡¯m guessing?¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± It was hard to tell if Fotham was juicing his muscles with magic when he lifted a pack with two fingers. ¡°Though I might caution you ¨C the runes negate the pull of gravity, but the object¡¯s natural force remains. Much like a drifting boulder ¨C weightless, yes, but still quite capable of smashing you flat should it gain sufficient speed.¡±

    Cole thought of the recent Artemis videos ¨C astronauts picking up hundred-pound equipment like it was nothing, then struggling to stop it from drifting. ¡°Right. Don¡¯t throw it around like it¡¯s empty.¡±

    Picking one up, he unzipped the main compartment. Considering how these things usually functioned, he lowkey expected some kind of mindfucking pocket dimension inside. But no ¨C just regular organization: standard compartments, tough canvas dividers, slots stocked with vials of colored liquid, and other gear.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Miles asked, looking up from his own bag. ¡°Ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ else special to it?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. There is, of course, some modest weatherproofing and a simple protective barrier rune; hardly anything to set one¡¯s imagination alight. Were you expecting something a touch more... spatially intriguing?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, actually. Figured if you could negate weight, maybe you could bend space, too.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Enchantments for such a thing do exist, as it happens. The royal family possesses a few ¨C bags capable of holding far more than their size would imply. Some of our veteran Slayers carry similar equipment, as do a handful of the rather more¡­ enterprising merchants ¨C those whose coffers rival even the Crown¡¯s. Frightfully costly, of course, and devilishly troublesome to maintain.¡±

    ¡°Artifacts, primarily.¡± Fotham lowered his voice a bit. ¡°Relics from the demon-infested wastes. Ancient and, I daresay, utterly incomprehensible to the likes of us. The truly ambitious merchants ¨C those whose coffers run deep enough ¨C coordinate with OTAC to fund expeditions into Istrayn in hopes of unearthing them. Most of those ventures end predictably: empty-handed¡­ or entirely absent.¡±

    He hesitated before continuing, ¡°Though we did recover one rather remarkable piece. A satchel that simply¡­ Well, it rather makes a mockery of what we thought possible with spatial enchantments. But such treasures remain precisely that ¨C treasures. These packs shall serve your immediate needs quite adequately.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s in them?¡± Cole pulled out a blue vial of liquid from the pack. ¡°This one¡¯s for mana, I¡¯m guessing?¡±

    Fotham nodded. ¡°Red for healing, green for stamina. The packs also contain uniforms, field kits, writing implements, maintenance kits for your rifles, bedroll, basic medical supplies ¨C should you lack a healer or potions ¨C and items for daily necessities.¡±

    ¡°Maps?¡± Miles asked, grabbing his original pack.

    ¡°Indeed. Though you¡¯ll require some instruction in our script first. As for your packs, they should afford sufficient space, should you wish to stow any of that peculiar equipment you¡¯ve brought along.¡±

    ¡°All our gear made it, ¡®cept what we used last night, thank Christ. Phones, NODs, IFAKs, them solar chargers¡­¡± Miles glanced at the broken AK sitting beside Cole¡¯s borrowed AKS. ¡°Well, most of our gear, anyway.¡±

    Losing the AK did hurt, but not a lot. Without access to 5.45 or the ability to make more, adopting Celdorne¡¯s weapons ¨C and possibly upgrading them ¨C seemed like a better play. ¡°Eh, not that it¡¯d be much useful outside of parts or reverse engineering. Ran dry.¡±

    Cole picked up a small container from within the pack and opened it ¨C neat rows of mana crystals, stored like batteries.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Fotham said, leaning, ¡°you¡¯ll seldom find need to replace them ¨C unless, of course, you¡¯ve designs on hoisting mountains. Even then, the drain is gradual enough to afford you ample warning.¡±

    ¡°What if it runs dry mid-fight? Switch to strengthening magic? Channel mana?¡± It sounded a bit stupid, considering it¡¯d be far more prudent to just¡­ swap out the crystals once they get low, but curiosity had gotten the better of Cole.

    ¡°Channel mana.¡± Fotham¡¯s decisiveness was surprising. ¡°We¡¯ve tested this, in fact. The mana expended in either case is near equal, though channeling proves far simpler than fortifying the body ¨C unless, of course, the body is already fortified.¡±

    Cole nodded. ¡°So, when¡¯s our training start?¡±

    ¡°Training begins on the morrow,¡± Fotham replied, rubbing his eyes. ¡°I shall send Lady Verna from my office. She is most adept at teaching the fundamentals, and has oft worked with Director Fernal¡¯s office. As for the present¡­¡± He straightened slightly. ¡°Once you have eaten and rested ¨C and after Sergeant Walker wakes, Prime Minister Alrick wishes to discuss the particulars of your arrangement with the Kingdom: contracts, compensation, command structure ¨C the necessary formalities.¡±

    Elina returned, bringing with her a maid who pushed along a rolling cart.

    ¡°I shall leave you to your meal, then,¡± Fotham said, rising slowly. ¡°Take what rest you may. Someone will come to fetch you when the Prime Minister is prepared to receive you.¡±

 Chapter 11: Terms of Service

    ¡°Have I ever mentioned how much I seriously hate, loathe¡­ disdain meetings?¡± Ethan grumbled as a guard led them through the halls.

    ¡°Well shoot, don¡¯t reckon I¡¯ve heard that one before.¡± Miles didn¡¯t even blink at Ethan¡¯s little comment. ¡°Maybe the hundredth time¡¯s the charm.¡±

    ¡°In that case¡­ have I ever mentioned¨C¡±

    Miles cut him off with a smirk. ¡°Man, don¡¯t even start. Shit¡¯s gonna be annoying enough when we step inside.¡±

    Cole couldn¡¯t blame the guy. A decade-plus of briefings had taught him bureaucracy was bureaucracy, whether it came with stars, suits, or whatever passed for authority here. Of course, he always knew where he stood ¨C the boundaries between agencies, the pecking order, the whole dance.

    The only difference between the various agencies and leaders was how asinine they got about operational support. Different agencies, same half-assed bullshit: here¡¯s the target, intel might be good or might get you killed, figure it out yourself, and oh yeah we can''t give you the tools you actually need. At least here they¡¯d burned resources just getting his team on the ground.

    Granted, Delta opened doors that stayed shut for everyone else. Walking into a room with three different power structures, each with their own stake in how this played out ¨C it wasn¡¯t anything new, but now they were ¡®heroes.¡¯ What weight did that carry in a world desperate enough to summon them? Hopefully, a few more privileges than what they were afforded back home.

    ¡°Probably won¡¯t be too bad. I mean, hey, they need us. They need us badly ¨C I can tell, despite their offer of letting us play civvie,¡± Cole said. ¡°Hell, the King wouldn''t have shown up at our bedside otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Fair ¡®nuff,¡± Miles said.

    The guard murmured something to his counterpart at the chamber doors. A moment later, they entered to the herald''s announcement: ¡°Lieutenant Cole Mercer, Sergeant Miles Garrett, Sergeant Ethan Walker of the United States Army.¡±

    The herald paused, then gestured toward the four men seated together on one side of the rectangular table in the center of the room. ¡°At the head, The Right Honorable Alrick Varesset, Prime Minister of the Crown. To his right, Director-General Cullen Fernal of the Office of Threat Assessment and Control, Sir Fotham Fallamore of the Office of Thaumaturgy, and General Aldam Gallahad, Commander of His Majesty''s Armed Forces.¡±

    Three different agencies at one table ¨C four, if the Crown counted ¨C and not a hint of the usual territorial pissing. Who knew an existential threat could be such an effective antidote to bureaucratic infighting?

    ¡°Gentlemen. Please, take your seats,¡± the Prime Minister greeted them. ¡°I dare say your first evening in Celdorne proved rather more eventful than intended. Though, they have rather thoroughly validated His Majesty''s choice in summoning. The Crown now seeks to formalize your service to the Kingdom. We have prepared articles of service befitting your role as Slayers. The nature of your duties shall require proper accord between His Majesty''s forces and the Office of Threat Assessment and Control.¡±

    Alrick gestured to a man standing quietly behind his chair ¨C middle-aged, dressed in the understated but still fine clothing of a court official. ¡°Our interpreter, Vale, shall assist us with these proceedings.¡±

    After the man introduced himself and swore an oath upon His Majesty¡¯s authority, Alrick passed copies of the document to each of them. ¡°While your status as the Crown¡¯s chosen heroes afford certain privileges, I should articulate that it also carries obligation in equal measure.¡±

    He paused, turning to a man in another brigandine piece, but with a light mesh overlay on top. A bit overkill for a meeting, but not really out of place considering the recent incident. More interesting was the fact that this guy looked almost as clean as the mustachioed general beside him -- all except for one minor detail. Healing magic could get rid of scars, but apparently it couldn''t get rid of the tired stare behind his facade of composure; the eyebags borne of seeing shit no one should ever have to see. ¡°Director-General Fernal, if you would?¡±

    Cullen cleared his throat. ¡°Let¡¯s start with your compensation. Fifty crowns monthly. Each.¡± He paused, likely hoping the number would impress them ¨C fat chance when they had no frame of reference. It didn¡¯t take the Director-General long to read the room though. ¡°More than some regional merchants see in a month. But then¡­ we expect more than what merchants deliver.¡±

    The fact that the man didn¡¯t say anything like ¡®local merchant¡¯ or ¡®village merchant¡¯ was telling enough. Definitely not East India Company levels of stacked, but regional merchants would still be running decent-sized operations between cities ¨C likely enough to live like whatever passed for multi-millionaires around here.

    Well, it was good to know they valued their demon hunters. Concerning to know just how much they thought they needed to, though. The rest of the package reflected that kind of commitment.

    Cullen moved down the document with the help of Vale ¨C full medical care they¡¯d gotten a taste of already, a whole-ass house provided by OTAC upon completion of their training, and equipment privileges a notch below what Cole had seen on the King¡¯s personal guard. Not quite what he¡¯d been hoping for, but time and performance would get them better gear, he was sure of it. Those iridescent scales were already calling his name. And if not those scales, then whatever he might find out in the field, apparently.

    ¡°Spoils rights?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes, the arrangement does include material considerations.¡± Cullen studied Cole, probably trying to gauge his reaction. ¡°Recovery rights. Salvage. You¡¯ll find our accounting methods most accommodating in that regard. Incentive, to put it lightly ¨C should the threat of extinction be insufficient.¡±

    Fotham had mentioned that before ¨C extinction. After last night, Cole had zero doubts about what that meant. All those anime shows, with their tragic misunderstood demon races looking for peace? Ain¡¯t no way could he reconcile that with a coordinated infiltration and assassination attempt.

    And if that¡¯s how Celdorne really felt, then the command structure that followed probably had some flexibility built in ¨C hush-hush concessions ¨C even if it looked rigid on paper. Celdorne¡¯s tech, or lack thereof, probably gave another point to that. No radios? No micromanagement. Hard to backseat drive when the higher-ups couldn¡¯t even reach the driver, after all.

    Though that cut both ways. No quick calls for support, no real-time coordination with other units, unless they somehow got pocket Scrying Panes sitting around. They¡¯d be truly operating independently, whether anyone liked it or not. Might even work in their favor ¨C nothing quite like comms limitations to force command to trust their judgement in the field.

    Still, the whole setup reeked of potential clusterfucks. If they had to work jointly with regular military units, then how? They¡¯d use¡­ what, runners? Signal flags? Trying to navigate these clauses was challenging enough when Cole barely understood how OTAC or their Army functioned beyond basic organization ¨C or how their weapons felt.

    As lacking as his intel was, seeing their proposal was still helpful. They¡¯d sketched out some basics in preparation for this meeting back at the infirmary; now they had the actual terms to work with ¨C or around. Better to step aside, get their arguments straight, list out the changes they¡¯d need to implement.

    ¡°Prime Minister, Director-General. Would you mind if we took a few minutes to review these terms in detail?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the Prime Minister replied. ¡°Please, take whatever time you require. The antechamber through that door should serve adequately for your discussion.¡±

    Cole led the way into the other room, Miles and Ethan following. Vale trailed behind. Having a government official present for their ¡®private¡¯ discussion kind of killed the point, but orders were orders. The door¡¯s solid thunk behind them would keep this private enough. And if the Celdornians could secretly listen in with magic, well, one extra pair of ears wouldn¡¯t make much difference.

    Ethan got the first word in, of course. ¡°So, pay¡¯s solid, at least.¡±

    Cole put the document on a side table. ¡°Not that we know what a crown buys, exactly. But hey, regional merchant money is regional merchant money.¡±

    ¡°If I may, sir,¡± Vale offered, ¡°a standard golden crown is enough to sustain a family¡¯s rent and food for several months. No mere morsels, at that.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Sheesh,¡± Miles whistled. ¡°Great benefits, too, can¡¯t lie. A house and free healers? Hell, that¡¯s a sight better than sittin¡¯ in base housing, hopin¡¯ Tricare don¡¯t leave you hangin¡¯. Only thing missin¡¯s a retirement package.¡±

    Ethan snorted. ¡°Pretty sure 50 crowns a month is the retirement package.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, can¡¯t argue with that.¡± Miles shrugged. ¡°But gear-wise? I¡¯m guessin¡¯ these Slayers¡¯re a step up from the ol¡¯ off-the-rack specials?¡±

    Cole nodded. And if those badass rifles they came across earlier were simply standard issue, who knew what OTAC had in store for their Slayers? ¡°Most likely, but we can ask to confirm. Same with the stuff about authority; doesn¡¯t really say in here, does it?¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t find shit.¡± Miles squinted at the strange script before looking up at Vale. ¡°What¡¯s this part about?¡±

    Vale scanned where Miles pointed. ¡°¡®You shall be vested with legal and civil authority equal in measure to that of Slayer Captains, and empowered to act in like capacity under the laws and ordinances governing such office.¡¯¡±

    Miles nodded. ¡°Huh, thanks. Doesn¡¯t say nothin¡¯ ¡®bout Slayer Captains, though.¡±

    ¡°Indeed it does not,¡± Vale confirmed. ¡°The preceding sections do reference standard authorities, though I admit the parameters are rather vague.¡±

    Honesty from the interpreter. That was something. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll ask about that too. You guys got anything else?¡± Cole glanced at the others. Both of them shook their heads. ¡°Alright. I wanna go over the main concern.¡±

    Ethan leaned over a chair. ¡°Same thing that got Miles riled up, I¡¯m betting.¡±

    ¡°That dumbass autonomy clause,¡± he groaned.

    ¡°We ain¡¯t getting carte blanche right off the bat,¡± Cole said. ¡°Might take a while. Last night¡¯s a compelling argument, though. We did all that with no hand-holding.¡±

    Miles crossed his arms. ¡°We¡¯re still a question mark. Far as they¡¯re concerned, coulda just been dumb luck.¡±

    ¡°Maybe. So we roll with their setup for now. Training period, oversight, whatever. But with our own conditions. Show ¡®em how we work, make it clear last night wasn¡¯t a fluke. Make ¡®em see that it worked because we called our own shots.¡±

    ¡°Like breaching the walls,¡± Ethan added.

    ¡°Yeah. So we have them agree to ramp up. Maybe something like a notch looser for each successful mission, or over time. Then we revisit that Fernal guy, or whoever he sends, and reevaluate; push for more room.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sounds solid,¡± Miles agreed, Ethan nodding alongside.

    ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    The officials looked up as they walked back in ¨C probably done with their own little side chat.

    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Alrick said. He glanced down at an open notebook that no doubt contained contingencies upon contingencies. ¡°Have you reached any conclusions?¡±

    ¡°Some.¡± Cole dropped back into his seat. ¡°We¡¯re gonna need to clarify some stuff, though. First, this bit about Slayer Captain authority ¨C what does that actually mean? Jurisdiction, operational scope, all that.¡±

    ¡°You will operate at your own behest in all matters of demonic or cultist activity,¡± Cullen answered. ¡°Local enforcement ¨C police, sheriffs, marshalls, town guards ¨C they serve at your discretion.¡±

    Sounded a bit iffy. Not that he was complaining with the powers of an inquisitor, being the recipient of such privileges and all. Still was kinda fucked up, being Big Brother himself. ¡°And who decides that? Us? Someone else?¡±

    Cullen didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°You. You investigate as necessity dictates. Approval is not required. The understanding, of course, is that this authority serves my Office alone. The Crown does not tolerate overreach. Censure. Dismissal. Or worse, depending on how far one¡¯s ambitions might stray.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ investigation includes anyone, right? Law enforcement themselves? Nobles?¡±

    Cullen let out a slow breath. ¡°It does, yes. And you can imagine, exercising that authority with certain¡­ individuals requires careful handling. Some are less inclined to cooperate than others. Police can be territorial. Nobles, defensive. Both, stubborn. You will have the authority to act, of course, but it¡¯s often wise to ensure your actions are as unimpeachable as your intent. Noble grievances, justified or not, can be rather troublesome.¡±

    Miles snorted faintly beside him. Cole resisted the urge to mirror it. ''Troublesome'' sure was one way to put it, and hopefully, he¡¯d never have to find out. ¡°Lots of privileges for Slayers, then. I imagine the weapons aren¡¯t exempt?¡±

    This got a different reaction ¨C almost like a coworker perking up when mentioning the game last night instead of droning on about printer refills. He smiled. ¡°Our equipment exceeds conventional standards. Mithril alloys, enchantments, quality necessitated by the threats we face.¡±

    Cole raised an eyebrow. ¡°Better than the King¡¯s Guard?¡±

    ¡°Scarcely. However, veteran Slayers, specialized units ¨C those under my direct command ¨C they carry comparable arms. Sometimes superior. Standard Slayer equipment proves¡­ adequate for most encounters. Far better than what the good General equips his men with, should that be your concern.¡±

    Miles gave a soft scoff. ¡°Adequate, huh?¡±

    Cullen glanced his way, unfazed. ¡°It keeps Slayers breathing. Custom provisions, you understand, must be earned. No exceptions, even for heroes. Advanced enchantments? Specialized tools? Prove yourselves worthy, and you may earn the privileges of demonstrated competence.¡±

    Cole tilted his head up a bit. ¡°Demonstrated competence.¡±

    Cullen didn¡¯t blink, but he for sure knew what the repetition implied.

    But just in case he needed that extra push¡­ ¡°Last night was a bit of a surprise. VIPs getting hit wasn¡¯t in anyone¡¯s playbook, but even despite that, we spotted the infiltration, pulled the defense together, and dropped the bastards. Hadn¡¯t even gotten the opportunity to learn any offensive magic, either.¡±

    ¡°A commendable effort,¡± Cullen admitted. ¡°But one engagement ¨C¡±

    Cole cut him off gently. ¡°Doesn¡¯t prove anything long-term, sure. But it builds precedent.¡± He navigated to the command structure and autonomy section in their proposal. ¡°Precedence, I¡¯m confident, that justify some adjustments to your terms.¡±

    Cullen leaned forward. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

    ¡°Simple structure. We¡¯ll agree to the standard privileges you¡¯ve outlined, expand after training¡¯s complete, then full autonomy ¨C or, at least, mounting autonomy after we earn some trust. Having a say in missions, mission parameters¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, that is reasonable. I can grant your team certain flexibilities now, given recent events.¡± Cullen tapped his chin. ¡°We may revisit your privileges after each successful mission.¡±

    Good. They¡¯d had to do the same for Delta; only fair it was the same here. ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll be dealing with the standard metrics? Outcomes, how well we achieved them, losses, and so on?¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± The single word carried finality.

    Cole glanced at his team. Satisfactory enough, based on their nods. ¡°Alright; I can agree to that. One condition, though: my team stays intact, and under my command.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but your team must evolve to meet its challenges. What say you, should we find compatible additions? Potions, after all, are no substitute to a skilled healer''s touch.¡±

    Cole paused. Yeah, Cullen got him there. Mack¡¯s condition already left enough of a hole in their composition. ¡°Compatible additions we¡¯ll consider; contingent on our approval. Splitting us up, though? Not happening.¡±

    ¡°Acceptable.¡± Another response where the man didn¡¯t hesitate; probably expected this.

    A deeper voice interjected ¨C General Gallahad, speaking for the first time since the meeting started. ¡°And should you prove your worth to the Director-General, I''d be willing to grant similar considerations for operations with my forces. Lieutenant, you¡¯ve served in this ¡®United States Army¡¯ for some time, I expect?¡±

    ¡°Eight years,¡± Cole replied. ¡°Special operations, mostly.¡±

    ¡°Capital. Then you understand the coordination of disparate units.¡± The General¡¯s mustache twitched. ¡°I should be most pleased to hear how your forces manage such endeavors. No doubt you¡¯ve insights for us?¡±

    Smart guy. Cole¡¯s weapons alone probably told Gallahad everything he needed to know about where they came from ¨C a place centuries ahead in military development. No wonder he wanted to pick their brains about modern doctrine. ¡°Happy to share what I can, General.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Then we¡¯ll explore further once you¡¯ve completed your training with Sir Cullen¡¯s office.¡±

    ¡°If there are no other matters to address?¡± Alrick glanced around the table. ¡°Sir Fotham?¡±

    Fotham shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ve little say in the matter regardless, but yes, the terms are satisfactory thus far.¡±

    ¡°And our heroes?¡±

    ¡°Alright by me,¡± Ethan said.

    Miles¡¯ subsequent agreement was all Cole needed to finalize the deal. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re ready to sign off on it.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Alrick motioned to a scribe who¡¯d been quietly scratching away in the corner. ¡°The revised articles shall be prepared momentarily.¡±

    About ten minutes later, the scribe presented the stack of copies to Alrick. Vale translated each revision, maintaining that same diplomatic precision despite what had to be a sore throat by now. Everything seemed alright, at least. He wasn¡¯t the best with this Founding Father-ass legalese, but between Vale¡¯s translation and the document¡¯s length, it¡¯d be impossible to miss a hidden clause.

    The Celdornians signed first, then passed it to Cole. Vale read each section one final time, probably as much for the record as for them.

    Cole signed, then passed it to Miles and Ethan. Left a spot for Mack ¨C whenever he finally woke up.

    Alrick collected the signatures. ¡°We shall have these processed immediately. Good day, gentlemen.¡±

    That only left one last question. ¡°Director-General,¡± Cole turned to Cullen. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll need some time to conduct our internal review first; ensure the Office is free of infiltrators. In the meantime, I believe it prudent that you and your team learn basic elemental magic, as per Director Fallamore¡¯s recommendation.¡±

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    stuff for the minimum word count

    Miles checked his watch for about the tenth time since breakfast. ¡°First actual spells, huh?¡±

    Cole glanced over. Good to see the man excited about something ¨C anything. Nothing like new toys to get an operator¡¯s mind right and away from the reality of being tossed into another world.

    ¡°Betcha it¡¯s gonna be fire,¡± Ethan said, mirroring Miles. ¡°Fantasy shit always starts with fire.¡±

    Miles snorted. ¡°Hell, wouldn¡¯t shock me if they had us crunchin¡¯ numbers on specific heat or some shit.¡±

 Chapter 12: Fundamentals

    Miles checked his watch for about the tenth time since breakfast. ¡°First actual spells, huh?¡±

    Cole glanced over. Good to see the man excited about something ¨C anything. Nothing like new toys to get an operator¡¯s mind right and away from the reality of being tossed into another world.

    ¡°Betcha it¡¯s gonna be fire,¡± Ethan said, mirroring Miles. ¡°Fantasy shit always starts with fire.¡±

    Miles snorted. ¡°Hell, wouldn¡¯t shock me if they had us crunchin¡¯ numbers on specific heat or some shit.¡±

    Out of everyone, Mack would probably love this the most. But no point in saying that out loud. A simple ¡®yeah¡¯, a chuckle, and an external interruption worked wonders.

    A woman in her late twenties waltzed through the training hall¡¯s entrance ¨C pretty, with brunette curls matching the bounce of her steps. ¡°Good morning!¡± She greeted them with a warm smile. ¡°You must be the new Slayers ¨C Lieutenant Mercer, Sergeant Walker, and Sergeant Garrett, if I¡¯m not mistaken?¡±

    Cole nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. And you¡¯re Lady Verna?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, the very same!¡± Her personality seemed a bit more upbeat than what he¡¯d have expected, especially out of a Celdornian office. But hey, it could be fun.

    Verna approached them. ¡°I¡¯ve been most eager to make your acquaintance. Sir Fotham spoke in glowing terms of your barrier work on the day of your arrival. And then that dreadful business with the demons ¨C utterly extraordinary, having to face them on your very first night!¡± She leaned in, covering a part of her mouth with her hand. ¡°And then having to deal with the bureaucrats the very next day¡­ Truly extraordinary indeed! How do you fare this morning?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re managing,¡± Cole admitted. ¡°Can¡¯t get any worse than rock bottom, eh? Think we¡¯re all ready to learn something a bit more offensive than barriers, though.¡±

    ¡°A touch of restlessness already, I see.¡± She grinned. ¡°Well, I suppose I can¡¯t fault you for that. But do not be so hasty to dismiss barriers ¨C they¡¯re one of the most versatile conjurations.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, can¡¯t lie, they sure as hell saved our asses,¡± Miles said.

    Verna sat on a nearby table. ¡°And how fares your companion?¡±

    ¡°Safe and sound, ¡®lethargy¡¯ aside,¡± Ethan sighed. ¡°¡®Least he¡¯s stable, I guess.¡±

    ¡°That is heartening to hear. The healers here are exemplary in their craft ¨C he shall be quite himself before long, I am sure.¡± She took in the room, eyes settling on the tables behind them. ¡°Now then, as you¡¯ve already demonstrated remarkable aptitude with barrier magic, Sir Fotham deemed it appropriate you expand your options. ¡®Something a bit more offensive than barriers,¡¯ yes?¡±

    Cole followed her as she got up from the table.

    ¡°Just here by the basins, if you please. We shall begin with temperature manipulation.¡±

    ¡°Starting slow, then?¡± Ethan asked.

    ¡°Quite so ¨C one cannot have the castle reduced to ash, after all.¡± She brought them to a group of unadorned metal basins arranged atop a table, each brimming with clear water.

    Verna rolled up her sleeve. Her tone shifted ever so slightly as she started their little lecture. ¡°Now then, let us address the fundamental principles of heat. Am I correct in assuming you are acquainted with its natural tendencies ¨C how it seeks to equalize disparities between warm and cool bodies?¡±

    Cole recognized it: basic thermodynamics. ¡°Yeah, pretty much.¡±

    She dipped her hand into the basin. ¡°Good. Touch the water. Do you feel it? The chill?¡±

    Cole submerged his hand. ¡®Chill¡¯ was probably the understatement of the year; the water was fucking cold; freezing. Almost reminded him of the good ol¡¯ days of Arctic warfare training, or when he lost a bet and jumped into that ice bath.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Verna continued, ¡°That is the warmth of your body seeking escape, eager to lend itself to the water. Now, focus. You should feel yet another warmth, distinct from the heat of your own flesh.¡±

    The contrast was immediately apparent. The sensation in his hand revealed two distinct feelings, sure enough: the chill of the water and that familiar warmth of mana flowing through his system.

    ¡°Consider heat as though it were a fluid ¨C one which instinctively flows from the warmer object to the cooler. The more energy you impart, the greater this caloric fluid will move through the water.¡±

    Caloric fluid? That was a new one. Though treating heat transfer like a fluid wasn¡¯t far off ¨C it was just energy moving through the medium. But temperature manipulation didn¡¯t transfer bodily heat; if that were the case, anyone performing ice or fire magic would straight up die. So¡­ how?

    Verna lifted her hand, water slipping from her fingers. Then, without a gesture or a word, the droplets began to steam. Thin wisps curled upward like it was the most natural thing in the world ¨C though it probably was, at least, here in Tenria.

    ¡°Begin with something familiar ¨C think of the warmth of a fire, the way it spreads outward and lingers in the air. Picture that heat now, but guide it outward from your mana and into the water.¡±

    Cole directed his mana outward. Unlike barrier magic, he could feel exactly how the mana affected his surroundings. The water around his hand warmed up a bit. He placed his other hand in the water to verify; sure enough, it had gotten warmer.

    ¡°Now, for proper control, I recommend an incantation. It helps ¨C¡± Verna stopped mid-sentence as steam began curling up from Cole¡¯s basin. Miles and Ethan¡¯s bowls started steaming moments after.

    ¡°Oh! Well then, it seems Sir Fotham¡¯s praise of your visualization skills was no mere flattery. I should¡¯ve expected no less. A word of caution, however, should you have any wish to wield this principle on a larger scale. The broader the effect you seek, the harder it becomes to visualize its workings. Boiling a cup of water, though it may seem the more laborious endeavor, is often simpler than altering the temperature of an entire room. The latter requires not only a vast store of energy but also precise mental control over the flow and diffusion of heat.¡±

    ¡°I reckon that¡¯s why y¡¯all got them air conditioning machines and heaters on the walls?¡± Miles tilted his head toward a unit similar to the ones they had seen at the infirmary.

    Verna smiled. ¡°Indeed. Now, I suppose you¡¯re ready to move on?¡±

    A bit more practice wouldn¡¯t have hurt, but Cole wouldn¡¯t argue with progression. ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°Fire.¡± Verna brought them over to another table with a group of oil lamps sitting on it. ¡°Given your grasp of thermal principles, this should prove but a trifle.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    She pointed at the lamps and they sparked to life. ¡°Most begin with woodfires or candle flames ¨C familiar enough to picture, aren¡¯t they? I¡¯ve come across excellent studies on caloric theory for visualization, though I daresay it¡¯s not quite suited to everyone.  From the look of your work with the steam, I suspect you¡¯ve a knack for a different approach, haven¡¯t you?¡±

    Cole glanced at the lamps. ¡°Something like that.¡±

    The flames sputtered out with a wave of Verna¡¯s hand. Fire was just combustion at its core, but there was a hell of a difference between a shitty campfire and the white-hot burn of thermite or white phosphorus. All came down to how well the conditions were set up: right mix of fuel, proper heat, and oxidizer ¨C be it air, iron oxide, or something more exotic. The better the balance, the cleaner the burn, byproducts aside.

    Cole looked at the lamps again. Verna had lit them all at once from where she stood ¨C a few meters away, perhaps. Interesting, given what he¡¯d noticed with the manameter. Maybe the 1-yard mark was just there for standardization¡¯s sake. ¡°What¡¯s the range on this?¡±

    ¡°An arm¡¯s length ought to suffice. Though, as you¡¯ve seen, practice may well extend that range rather handsomely.¡± She spawned a small ball of fire at the opposite end of the room, where a set of wind chimes and flags hung idly. ¡°The principle remains the same ¨C one simply needs clearer visualization.¡±

    She paused. ¡°Though I must confess, I am most intrigued. Your earlier efforts seemed unconventional. Perhaps a touch more discussion of control would be prudent? These are but humble oil lamps, after all, and I daresay we¡¯d all prefer they remain as such.¡±

    Right. Probably best not to apply thermite visualization to standard lamp oil. Cole focused on the nearest lamp. He¡¯d seen dozens of fireballs form in media, but picturing a simple lighter seemed more fitting ¨C a small flame; decent fuel-air mixture but keeping the reaction temperature well below anything that¡¯d vaporize the brass. The flame ignited instantly, burning bright and steady with hardly any draw on his mana.

    ¡°Oh, brilliant!¡± Verna leaned in to examine the flame. ¡°Remarkably efficient.¡±

    Miles and Ethan hit their targets with the same precision, lamps lighting up the same way. Those looks on their faces ¨C Cole hadn¡¯t seen that in a while. Controlled, but with just a sliver of a grin underneath, as if they were testing out new badass gear. Pretty much how he felt too.

    Sure, they were just lighting candles. But basic as this was, they were still manipulating fire with pure thought. Real fucking magic. Hard not to feel a rush from that, even for a bunch of jaded operators.

    ¡°Well then,¡± Verna said, ¡°shall we attempt something a trifle more daring? Water magic is a curious thing; it never fails to surprise, even those well-versed in its mysteries.¡±

    She brought them back to the basins. ¡°It is the very antithesis of fire, wouldn¡¯t you agree? Water has its own peculiarities: its propensity to cling and flow, its resistance to division, as though it were loath to be parted from itself.¡±

    Surface tension, cohesion, adhesion ¨C basic fluid dynamics, essentially.

    She dipped a finger in a basin, drawing a bead of water that followed her motion. She then flicked it, letting it flow through the air in a graceful stream.

    It didn¡¯t really click during the heat and fire exercises, but now it hit him. Maybe elemental magic had been coming easy because they had a damn good reference point. ¡°Waterbending.¡±

    Miles nudged his shoulder. ¡°Told ya it wasn''t a waste of time.¡±

    Verna looked delighted at their enthusiasm, even if she couldn''t follow the reference. ¡°I take it you¡¯ve seen similar manipulations before?¡±

    Cole paused. He couldn¡¯t really explain a TV show to her. ¡°Something like that,¡± he replied.

    ¡°Now, then.¡± Verna lifted her hand as the water arched into a flawless dome above the basin. ¡°Imagine the forces that hold the water together, fighting the pull of gravity.¡±

    He started small, mimicking her little trick with the stream. Miles and Ethan had the same idea, streams forming without a hitch.

    Cole¡¯s first attempt with the dome came naturally ¨C after watching enough waterbending, the visualization was second nature. The dome formed smoothly, and what little he knew about fluids helped him keep the form stable.

    ¡°How about this?¡± Verna directed a stream upward and around her body, the water flowing like one of those gymnast ribbons dancing through the air.

    Miles whistled as his water stream twisted through the air. ¡°Shit¡¯s wild.¡± His grin said it all. Cole hadn¡¯t seen him this pumped since they¡¯d gotten those new NODs.

    Cole found this even easier than the dome. Of course, he couldn¡¯t imagine the pressure gradients and velocity vectors like his brain was some MATLAB program, but experience with scuba and pipes rendered the physics familiar enough. The principles were second nature to him and his team; they knew the underlying mechanics of why things worked ¨C far better than anyone in Celdorne or even the whole of Tenria, most likely.

    ¡°And, as you might expect,¡± she said, eyes lighting up, ¡°the same principle applies in reverse. Rather than adding energy to encourage steam, we draw it away to invite the water to crystallize.¡± At her touch, the surface crystallized into ice.

    ¡°Now that¡¯s just showing off,¡± Ethan said, despite his ice coming out just as clean.

    Cole had seen enough freeze-thaw cycles fuck up pipelines to understand exactly how water behaved during phase changes. His attempt created ice just as clear, all the cloudy shit from trapped air bubbles absent from his basin.

    ¡°Why, I must say I¡¯m rather glad to have happened upon such talent.¡± Verna¡¯s dramatic gesture at the ice had to be at least half-genuine. ¡°Some Slayers I¡¯ve had the displeasure of working with have spent weeks just trying to manage a frost!¡±

    Miles carved a small castle out of his ice. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to disappoint, ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°Disappoint? My dear Sergeant, should this be disappointment, I must declare myself eager for more,¡± Verna said, amused. Yeah, she was definitely enjoying herself, though it wasn¡¯t like Miles minded; he was smirking right back.

    ¡°Though,¡± she continued, ¡°perhaps I ought not to praise you too highly just yet. Let¡¯s see how you fare with air and earth, shall we?¡±

    She brought them over to the wind chimes and flags from earlier. ¡°It may seem elusive, being unseen to the eye. Yet surely you are acquainted with the marvels of steam? How it propels pistons forth and draws them back again, powering mighty machines with naught but its breath?¡±

    Steam power¡­ interesting. Gas was just another fluid ¨C hell, steam engines were basically practical demonstrations of the ideal gas law. Just how much did they know? ¡°Like¡­ trains?¡± Cole probed.

    ¡°Ah, yes! Precisely so; steam harnessed to serve our will. Air and wind magic follow much the same principle.¡± She raised her hand toward the wind chimes, and a gentle breeze sent them tinkling. ¡°A visual guide oft proves helpful. I shall summon some steam to¨C¡±

    She paused as the wind chimes sang again, but not from her magic. Apparently Miles had already created his own current, sending a soft gust of wind over their heads. Pretty damn impressive control for a first try, though maybe Cole shouldn¡¯t be so surprised.

    ¡°I¨C well!¡± Verna smiled. ¡°That¡¯s rather unprecedented.¡±

    Cole created his own breeze. Simple enough visualization; no need to overcomplicate basic fluids. Ethan¡¯s gust picked up stronger than his, sending the flags fluttering. Must¡¯ve been thinking industrial scale rather than residential.

    Verna scratched her head, standing speechless for a moment. ¡°Well. Eager for more, then. Let us see how you fare with earth.¡±

    She brought them outside to the training yard, the bare soil seeming perfect for whatever she had in mind. ¡°Earth differs greatly from the other elements. Where water yields and air scatters, earth is resolute; it clings to its nature with remarkable obstinacy.¡±

    Earthbending 101: dirt and rock were stubborn ¨C that much was obvious. He¡¯d dug enough holes to know exactly how tough it could be. Though watching Verna shape a perfect sphere of soil mid-air suggested there were better ways than grappling with a shovel.

    ¡°Watch carefully.¡± Verna reached out, willing the soil to form a small column. ¡°Start small.¡±

    Cole focused on the ground. Start small ¨C just like she said. He pictured lifting the dirt like he was shoveling, but without the shovel. Break, then lift. The soil separated with a thought, about a cup¡¯s worth coming up.

    ¡°Lady Verna?¡±

    Some aide approached across the yard ¨C Fotham¡¯s office, according to that uniform. ¡°Might I have a moment of your time?¡±

    She stepped aside with the aide. Their conversation lasted barely a few seconds.

    ¡°Well!¡± Verna turned back. ¡°It seems our lessons are to continue for some weeks yet. Sir Cullen¡¯s office finds itself rather in want of hands, and so¡­ I daresay we shall dedicate the coming days to refining these fundamentals ¨C getting you quite at ease with the elements.¡± With a possibly magical flick of her wrist, the dirt vanished from her hands. ¡°Next week we shall venture into proper spellcasting.¡±

    Ethan perked up at that. ¡°Combat techniques?¡±

    ¡°Indeed! But let us first master lifting dirt before we aspire to hurling pillars of stone at demons, hmm?¡±

 Chapter 13: Awakening

    After a few days of practice, magic had become almost routine. Granted, directing the elements with pure thought still felt pretty surreal.

    Verna had them lined up for progress demonstrations, but they all knew it was just a formality. They¡¯d caught the hang of it by day 2, and while the practice did get monotonous, at least it was legit magic. Besides, rushing fundamentals never ended well.

    A tea service waited on one of the training room tables. ¡°Right then!¡± Verna moved to it. ¡°Let¡¯s start with something proper. I¡¯ve various teas for you here.  Telsur, steeped at one-hundred sixty degrees Fahrenheit; marreth, best at one-eighty; and lastly,¡± she set down the last cup, ¡°rennes at two-hundred twenty. Mind the temperatures, for there¡¯s naught worse than ruining a fine tea by carelessness.¡±

    Cole figured Verna would test them somehow, but this definitely wasn¡¯t what he expected. Tea, of all things. Something about getting judged on proper brewing made all that practice feel inadequate.

    Might as well get on with it. He started with the telsur, amping up the temperature the same way he¡¯d do it on a stove. Of course he had to get stuck with the hardest to discern ¨C trying to hit that sweet spot between warm tap water and a boil was quite a pain in the ass. But he managed.

    Verna lifted the cup and took a careful sip. ¡°Perfect! Sergeant Walker?¡±

    Ethan crushed the marreth test, like his dormant British genes finally woke up for something. Verna¡¯s nod said it all.

    Miles drew the rennes ¨C lucky bastard just had to crank it up to boiling. No finesse required; just heat till the bubbles hit.

    Verna gathered the cups. ¡°Right then. Let¡¯s move on.¡±

    Water was next on the menu, and the task was simple enough: manipulate the water in some bowls and show they know how to shift between states of matter. Water to ice, then ice to steam, then everything back to liquid.

    Cole didn¡¯t need a formal test to know he could do this, but here he was, staring down a basin of water. The visualization was pretty easy; just an extension of the temperature exercise they did earlier. The only tricky part would¡¯ve been the manipulation of the water itself, but Verna had probably seen enough of their party tricks the past few days. The liquid spiraled up, freezing into a statue before discombobulating into steam. A little condensation and it rained right back into the basin.

    It wasn¡¯t the most exciting thing, but then again, neither was the important task of loading a magazine.

    The next test was a series of hoops filled with faint smoke drifting through the air. All they had to do was guide the smoke through the hoops without spilling a wisp.

    Cole pictured the air currents like flow lines in a wind tunnel, then pushed with his mana to make them real, and voila. The smoke followed the path he carved, zipping through the obstacle course cleanly.

    ¡°Man,¡± Miles muttered from somewhere to his right, rueful as shit.

    Cole knew that tone ¨C new toys, old problems. After all those times eating sand in the field, being able to just push particulates around at will almost felt like cheating. And earth magic wasn¡¯t much different.

    Once Verna had approved Miles and Ethan¡¯s attempts, she had them raise a pillar, then dig a ditch.

    Cole crouched, placing a hand on the soil. The pillar rose steadily, stopping just shy of the marker. Without pause, he carved a clean trench alongside it. Easy, but damn if it didn''t leave him jealous. If they¡¯d had magic like this back home, half the shit they did might¡¯ve taken minutes instead of hours. No more shoveling foxholes, stacking sandbags, or waiting on engineers to haul out HESCO.

    It didn¡¯t scream battlefield glamor, but it was the kind of thing that made life a hell of a lot easier. Not that it was any news to him. Shonen fanboys always got hung up on the flashy stuff ¨C fireballs, lightning bolts, et cetera. They¡¯d gobble up fights but call something as great as Frieren boring, like they couldn¡¯t wrap their heads around the idea that magic wasn¡¯t just about the explosions and OP shit.

    This, on the other hand, was what made it truly powerful. Hell, Ethan was already getting a hard-on over his new ability to shape terrain at a whim.

    ¡°That will do. Now... offense.¡± A prideful smirk grew on her face. She sounded like she¡¯d been waiting to get to this part. Well, they all did.

    The earth restored itself without even a lifted finger as Verna walked past, bringing them to a section of yard where someone had set up earthen targets on stone stands. ¡°Offensive magic offers myriad approaches, but we shall begin with the essentials. Given your admirable progress thus far, I suspect we shan''t tarry overlong!¡±

    A small flame sparked in her palm. Nothing fancy at first ¨C just enough to light a smoke. Then it grew and condensed into a tight sphere: a fireball.

    She launched it. Unlike the glorious weapons of mass destruction fantasy media always painted these out to be, this fireball started to fizzle out en route to the target. The final product that actually made impact was a shadow of its former self, leaving barely a scorch mark on the clay target.

    It was lowkey disappointing. He¡¯d seen molotovs do more damage. The principles seemed similar ¨C contained incendiary projectile ¨C but the execution needed a lot of work.

    All part of the plan, according to Verna¡¯s explanation. ¡°As the fireball traverses the air, it disperses its heat outward, warming the cooler atmosphere that surrounds it. This cooler air, by contact and motion, absorbs the fireball¡¯s energy, hastening its loss of heat. The very motion of the fireball stirs the air into turbulence, which further accelerates this exchange. Should the fireball expand as it travels, it will cool yet further, much as steam does upon escaping a boiler. However, with the proper refinement of focus and technique, one might counteract these losses to preserve its heat until the moment of impact.¡±

    ¡°Lemme guess, combining spells?¡± Ethan asked.

    Verna nodded. ¡°Spell combination. Any novice may summon forth a flame or stir a breeze, but true mastery lies in the union of such forces. These principles, of course, may be applied to all branches of magic. Consider a simple imp or goblin in some considerable misfortune: first ensnared by gravity, then thoroughly drenched to ensure the full effect of lightning, and finally crushed beneath a stone drawn down by the very force that held it captive.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Cole fought a chuckle. There was a certain je ne sais quoi to this absurd overkill. Of course, nothing came close to nuking a level 1 slime several times, but this was up there. ¡°Sounds a bit uhh¡­ excessive?¡±

    Verna quirked an eyebrow. ¡°Excessive? I daresay it¡¯s efficient. The imps rarely raise objections to our methods.¡±

    Miles snorted. ¡°Yeah, if there¡¯s anything left to object with.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but there¡¯s the beauty of it,¡± Verna said. ¡°The layering of forces makes even a simple spell vastly more effective. Perhaps not the most judicious approach for a lowly imp, but indispensable should you instead face something far more formidable ¨C say, a Dread Revenant, or some other commander serving under the Demon Lord.¡±

    ¡°I imagine a fireball won¡¯t cut it?¡±

    ¡°Not as it is, no. A lone fireball would scarcely do more than singe a Revenant¡¯s armor. But with air magic? Ah, now we¡¯re speaking of something far more effective! Add air magic, and you invigorate the flame, much as a forge bellows does for a blacksmith¡¯s fire. Then, encompass it within a barrier, and then you loose the fireball.¡±

    She¡¯d shrunk this one down to about the size of a golf ball before launching it. The compressed flame smashed into the earthen target, exploding like a thermobaric grenade. And this was her holding back.

    At original size? It¡¯d probably pack the punch of a Javelin missile. And that wasn¡¯t even the upper limit. Cole was willing to bet that there were tons of designs these guys had probably never even thought of. With some tweaks to the barrier shape and a simple nozzle for makeshift rocketry, it could hit even harder. But Verna was already moving on.

    ¡°Thus do the classical elements so captivate mages ¨C easy visualization, and perhaps more importantly, they lend themselves most readily for enhancement.¡±

    ¡°Classical elements,¡± Ethan muttered. ¡°Not y¡¯know, like¡­ hydrogen and oxygen?¡±

    ¡°Ah, well,¡± Verna said with a slight laugh, ¡°we do keep to the classical terms. To remake centuries of practice merely to conform to hydrogen and oxygen would be quite absurd, even setting aside the difficulty. I daresay most novices would rather picture burning wood than concern themselves with caloric or kinetic reactions, or even the alignment of carbon and other atoms.¡±

    Cole nodded. He was sure glad he didn¡¯t have to imagine millions of molecules undergoing an exothermic reaction just to make a simple fireball. Though that spawned some more concern about how magic even worked at the most basic levels. ¡°What, so when someone pictures burning wood, the magic automatically handles all the uh¡­ ¡®kinetic¡¯ stuff underneath?¡±

    Verna blinked. ¡°I¡­ hmm.¡± She frowned ¨C first time Cole had ever seen her caught off guard. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve no ready answer. Some have theorized that, yes ¨C that magic itself resolves such complexities. However, no one has yet been able to confirm it. All we know is that visualization works, though how precisely it does so remains a mystery. Perhaps the Istraynians knew the truth of it. Yet, as none remain to verify their wisdom, we are left but to speculate upon whether an understanding of natural philosophy serves to deepen the workings of magic.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯d explain why we picked up magic so quick,¡± Ethan said. ¡°Easier to visualize when you know what¡¯s happening under the hood.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ perhaps you are right. To comprehend what lies beneath may well aid the mind¡¯s eye. Shall we put it to the test?¡±

    Miles nodded at the scorched target. ¡°Reckon we oughta start with air first, ¡®fore we go tossin¡¯ in the barrier.¡±

    Verna stepped back. ¡°Focus on the flame and the pressure around it. Direct the air to cradle the fire.¡±

    Cole tried his first shot without air magic, just to get a baseline. Pretty much matched Verna¡¯s initial demonstration: decent fireball that sputtered out en route. Adding air flow took some finesse, even despite the practice. The first attempt accelerated the fireball too much, making it break apart from the sheear forces ¨C something that barrier magic could probably be used to remedy. The second attempt got it under control, but he overcorrected ¨C likely too much turbulence and drag mucking it up.

    He got it by the third attempt, though. Not his best, but at least he could gloat about it to Ethan and Miles who took five each to get it right.

    Adding the barrier was easier. It was just like treating the interior as an engine¡¯s combustion chamber ¨C strong enough to contain the pressure but sized correctly to allow the reactions to take place.

    Suboptimal at first, but still functional. Eyeballing it was tough, but it only took a few tweaks to get the compression right. Within minutes they were launching fireballs that hit just as hard as Verna¡¯s demonstration.

    She clapped her hands. ¡°Defying all precedents again, I see. Though¡­ I suspect I ought not to be astonished any longer.¡±

    Cole smiled. Hopefully they¡¯d be able to keep this up. ¡°Guess that means we¡¯re ready for what¡¯s next, then?¡±

    ¡°More than ready,¡± Verna said. ¡°Though perhaps we ought to start with something properly simple: fog. You might find it rather interesting.¡±

    The air shimmered around her hand. Steam was familiar territory by now; Cole had done enough practice to recognize that initial gathering of vapor. His usually spread out like bathroom fog, filling whatever space it had ¨C which meant disappearing into the large ass training room or blending into the surrounding atmosphere outside. Hers didn¡¯t. Instead, it engulfed their immediate surroundings without losing consistency.

    The mist drew itself tight, probably dense enough to eat radio signals. It turned into that perfect, unnatural white that made everything past five feet look like an old photograph. Real unsettling, but otherwise fine as long as a pyramid didn¡¯t jump at him.

    It made his work with steam look almost amateur in comparison, but he¡¯d gladly take the blow to his pride. This mist had a ton of utility; it functioned less like the wispy shit from actual smokescreens, and more like Call of Duty smoke that actually blocked line of sight.

    The mist dissipated just seconds after, and she moved on to her next spell. ¡°Now, mud.¡±

    A patch of ground beside them cracked as she set aside a square for demonstration. Water seemed to well up from within the soil itself, like a spring but everywhere at once. The dry earth turned into mud in just seconds.

    More water pushed up through the mixture, turning it into a slurry before it suddenly subsided, slightly solidifying the mud. This was the type of shit that would make the Vietcong weep with joy. Perfect consistency, on demand, anywhere it was needed. No digging or hoses required.

    Wasn¡¯t as conventionally ¡®cool¡¯ as the fireball spectacle earlier, but it sure as hell beat it in utility.

    ¡°Which would you prefer to ¨C¡± Verna began, but the door beside them crashed open.

    Elina burst out onto the yard, barely dodging the patch of mud. The grin on her face said everything. ¡°He¡¯s awake.¡±

    Cole¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He damn near broke into a grin himself. Miles and Ethan looked about the same ¨C faces screaming a mix of ¡®holy shit¡¯ and ¡®no fucking way¡¯. They didn¡¯t need clarification on who ¡®he¡¯ was, and they all trusted Elina. But they needed to see with their own eyes first.

    They sprinted through the castle¡¯s halls, leaving Elina and Verna behind. Cole¡¯s heart pounded, and not just from the running. Didn¡¯t Elina say several weeks to a month? They¡¯ve been here just under two weeks and Mack was already awake.

    What, was Celdorne¡¯s medical practices really just that good? Or maybe Mack was too stubborn to stay down as long as they¡¯d thought. Probably both.

    They rounded the final corner. The door was open. And there he was ¨C Mack, propped up against his pillows. He looked like absolute dogshit, but he was very much conscious and awake. Eyes open, and having a conversation with a nurse.

    Mack caught their entrance. ¡°Ay, y¡¯all not gonna believe what they just told me.¡±

    The words came out rough and raspy as hell, but they were his. Actually his, not just Cole¡¯s memory of them. Fuck, he hadn¡¯t realized how much he¡¯d started to forget what Mack¡¯s voice sounded like.

    ¡°Jesus,¡± Cole broke out into a grin. ¡°Sleeping Beauty¡¯s finally awake.¡±

    ¡°The one and only,¡± Mack said. ¡°Wait, you better not tell me I¡¯ve gotta thank you for the kiss.¡±

 Chapter 14: Reunion

    ¡°Wait, you better not tell me I¡¯ve gotta thank you for the kiss.¡±

    Almost two weeks of silence, and the second thing out of his mouth was giving them shit. Cole grinned. ¡°Hell no, we drew straws and Miles lost ¨C poor bastard.¡±

    ¡°Lost?¡± Miles shook his head with a devious chuckle. ¡°I personally reckon it¡¯s more like won. Full Diddy, no pause.¡± He sat down beside Mack and gave him a good-natured shove on the shoulder. ¡°For real though, it¡¯s damn good to see you up an¡¯ kickin¡¯.¡±

    Ethan stepped forward and sped the man¡¯s hand. For a moment his smile didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes ¨C that same look whenever he thought about his family back home; that facade of a smile that often apanied funerals. But he caught himself and got it right for Mack. ¡°d you¡¯re awake, man.¡±

    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ A, bro.¡± Mack¡¯s voice was rough but the relief was clear. ¡°Been hearing voices for¡­ shit, I don¡¯t even know how long. Good to actually see y¡¯all too.¡±

    He nced around the room, finally recognizing the glowing runes on the walls and the magic AC units strewn throughout. ¡°But uh¡­ you seein¡¯ this shit? Tell me I¡¯m not dreaming right now. One of the docs told me we¡¯re in some Kingdom of Celdorne, and that I¡¯m a¡­ a hero?¡±

    Mack looked between them. He brightened up a bit, despite how much he looked like shit. ¡°This an isekai?¡±

    Cole nodded. ¡°Sure is.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± A grin started to spread on Mack¡¯s face, then caught halfway as heid eyes on Ethan. Hell of a juxtaposition ¨C Ethan forcing a smile to reach his eyes while Mack couldn¡¯t keep his smile from showing in them. ¡°How long has it been?¡±¡°¡®Bout twelve days,¡± Miles said. ¡°Most of that spent waitin¡¯ on your ass to wake up.¡±

    ¡°Well, and learning some new tricks.¡± Ethan raised his hand. A small me sparked to life above his palm.

    Mack stared at it, mouth hanging wide open. ¡°No fucking way.¡± He tried to push himself up for a better look, grimaced. ¡°You can do all that?¡±

    ¡°All that and then some.¡± Cole could hardly help the smug pride leaking through his voice. ¡°Basic elements ¨C the Avatar kind ¨C barriers, strengthening magic. Apparently it¡¯s anything we can picture. Like that hyperphantasia thing you told me about.¡±

    ¡°You mean I could¨C?¡± Mack didn¡¯t even finish the thought. He nced at Ethan before tempering his response. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ kinda insane.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Cole nodded. ¡°Once you¡¯re back on your feet. Apparently we all have the capacity for it ¨C something about the summoning ritual modifying our biology.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°We all got a new organ,¡± Ethan offered with a more genuine smile this time. ¡°Mana nd. Insane shit, gotta admit. Produces and stores mana, supposedly. And let¡¯s us do shit the ¡®magicians¡¯ in Vegas wished they could do.¡±

    ¡°Holy shit. Damn. That¡¯s fuckin¡¯¡­ Uh, surely there¡¯s a catch to that, though, right?¡± Mack was clearly holding back his inner nerd for Ethan¡¯s sake. ¡°One of the docs told me we¡¯re here to y hero. Fill me in, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Well, ya ain¡¯t wrong ¡®bout the catch.¡± Miles shifted forward. ¡°Take a look out that window. Damn purdy sight, ain¡¯t it? Alexandria, capital of Celdorne. ¡®Parently they got themselves a demon problem ¨C like, big bad Demon Lord fixin¡¯ toe through in the next few years. Real Sauron type shit. And that¡¯s where wee in.¡±

    ¡°ssic ¡®defeat the Demon Lord¡¯, huh? Never thought I¡¯d see the day.¡±

    ¡°Almost didn¡¯t,¡± Miles said. ¡°They had their pick: some Jap kid with some time maniption ¡®Talent¡¯, some fancy bookworm from a whole other damn world, few others too. Lucky for us, they picked right. Otherwise? Hell, we¡¯d still be in Khaldat, bleedin¡¯ out in the dirt.¡±

    ¡°Turned out they picked righter than we knew,¡± Ethan chuckled. ¡°Buncha demons tried to take us out in our sleep ¨C day fucking <em>one</em>, mind you. Don¡¯t think that Jap kid would¡¯ve survived that one. Sure as hell bet that schr wouldn¡¯t have.¡±

    ¡°Demons? On day one?¡± Mack asked. Cole had the exact same reaction when they came knocking on his door. ¡°Thought you said it was still a few years before the Demon Lord arrived?¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± Miles barked out augh. ¡°Wish it were the case. Turns out they ain¡¯t waitin¡¯ for their boss. Or their boss came early. Either way, these weren¡¯t even normal demons neither ¨C not ordin¡¯ to the locals. New type. Mimics. Look just like human ¡®til ya kill ¡®em. Hit us up at midnight, yin¡¯ knight. Almost had us too.¡±

    Cole frowned. The memory wasn¡¯t exactly pleasant ¨C most certainly not the part when he got grabbed like he dropped the soap. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯d set up for them, fatal funnel. Not very fatal when you¡¯re fighting, uh, those big guys from Resident Evil.¡±

    ¡°Tyrants?¡± Mack offered.

    ¡°Yeah, Tyrants. Bastards soaked up 5.45 like nothing,¡± Cole continued. ¡°It took damn near everything we had. Had to mag dump for a single kill. Managed to kill half of them before the Kingdom¡¯s guys finally showed up.¡± ???¦­???S

    ¡°So what happened after that?¡±

    ¡°Well, before that ¨C when we first got here, King gave us three options,¡± Cole said. ¡°Return to our moment of impending doom in Jadira, live as normal citizens here, or sign on as their heroes. After that night with the demons? Pretty easy call, all things considered. We went through negotiations a few days ago. Told ¡®em it was pending until you epted it, though.¡±

    Mack inclined his chin, then shrugged. ¡°Probably would¡¯ve anyway. What¡¯d they agree to hook us up with?¡±

    Ethan listed the important items, from their sry to level of autonomy. The deal had been rather generous and satisfactory across the board, but what really caught Mack¡¯s attention was the content about equipment. Of course, he¡¯d also been the prime victim of loot boxes in games.

    Mack kept fighting down the smile, but it was like being back in Sunday school ¨C the more he tried not to, the worse it got. ¡°Not like we got much choice anyway, right?¡± He nced at Ethan before adding, a bit more subdued, ¡°Though I gotta admit, it sure beats bleeding out in Jadira. And¡­ who wouldn¡¯t wanna be a hero?¡±

    His smile faded for real this time, and it didn¡¯t take a genius to understand why.

    Cole could see it in his eyes. The smile earlier confirmed what he¡¯d guessed about that ¡®fantasy geek¡¯ side of Mack, but the sh of regret¡­ Cole didn¡¯t n on prying; Mack had his own reasons, pragmatism aside. But if he <em>had</em> to guess, well, Mack probably saw this as a second chance. Redemption, perhaps. Or atonement ¨C for the kid he failed to save; for whatever else he might¡¯ve done in the past.

    Mack shifted awkwardly in his bed. The motion seemed to trigger something ¨C a realization as his hand found where the entry wound should have been. He almost winced, but shifted to wide, disbelieving eyes as he actually touched his abdomen.

    ¡°Shit.¡± He pulled up his shirt, scanning the area. No blood. Hell, not even a scar. Just clean skin. ¡°I¡¯m guessing this was also magic?¡±

    This tale has been uwfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°That would be my work.¡± Elina appeared in the doorway with Verna, finally catching up to them. ¡°I¡¯m Dr. Elina Gracer; I¡¯ve treated you with healing magic.¡±

    ¡°Huh, wow,¡± Mack said, starry eyed as he continued to examine the unblemished skin. But the honeymoon phase didn¡¯tst long at all. That wonder cracked into something harder ¨C like he¡¯d juste across a civvie¡¯s wack-ass attempt at a tourniquet.

    ¡°Oh!¡± The elf offered an awkward smile. ¡°You needn¡¯t trouble yourself on that ount. The process quite thoroughly removes any foreign matter and mends the insides properly.¡± She looked at Cole.

    He wasn¡¯t exactly sure what she was trying to silentlymunicate to him, but it wasn¡¯t a hard guess either. ¡°Yeah,¡± Cole said. ¡°She did it the right way. Looked gross as shit, admittedly, but it wasn¡¯t like¡­ scuffed, or anything.¡±

    ¡°Watched your veins and skin pull back together,¡± Miles said tly. ¡°in as day.¡±

    Mack nodded slowly. ¡°Well then. Thanks for keeping me from rotting throughout all this. I¡¯m guessing you¡¯ve done everything to keep the muscles working too?¡± He paused, then added, ¡°Any kind of magic that could speed up recovery?¡±

    ¡°Ah, no, I am afraid there are no spells for such a thing, Sergeant MacPherson. Oh, there are spells that might appear the proper remedy, I grant you, but it would be no better than binding a broken carriage wheel with twine. It may seem sound at a nce, yet the moment it bears any strain, it would <em>surely </em>give way.¡±

    Elina stepped closer to his bedside, briefly checking his coordination and responses. ¡°There seems to be no issues. Shall we begin restoring your strength?¡±

    Mack gave a weak nod. ¡°Yeah. Baby steps.¡±

    ¡°Just so, Sergeant.¡± Elina helped him get up. ¡°Gentle movements. We shall address each set of muscles in turn.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± He grunted as she helped him move his legs. ¡°I¡¯m guessing this mana nd counts as one of those muscles?¡±

    Elina shifted gears a bit, probably recognizing Mack as a fellow practitioner of medicine. ¡°Not¡­ precisely. Though it does require care and attention, much as any organ might, the mana nd is of a far more delicate constitution ¨C especially in your case, having suffered such strain.¡±

    Mack didn¡¯t seem to agree. ¡°So we need to build it back up too, right? Physical therapy?¡±

    Elina shook her head. ¡°Let me speak inly, Sergeant MacPherson. To attempt magic now would be akin to drawing water from a well that has scarcely begun to refill. Your mana nd is exceedingly fragile, and any exertion ¨C however slight ¨C could well plunge you back into the same exhaustion from which you have only just awakened. I cannot, in good conscience, sanction such a risk.¡±

    ¡°Doc,¡± Mack said, trying to find afortable position as she helped him stretch. ¡°If I¡¯ve been in aa this whole time, wouldn¡¯t my reserves have started filling up? Like, if the well¡¯s been untouched, there¡¯s gotta be some water in there by now, right?¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Elina¡¯s lips pressed together. But she wasn¡¯t stumped just yet. ¡°A reasonable question, I grant you. Rest, indeed, permits the body to restore its vitality, and I should expect <em>some </em>measure of replenishment in your reserves. However, it is not merely the reserves that concern me, but the mechanism by which the nd draws and channels energy. Should that mechanism remain unstable, slight exertion might cause it to fail entirely. That, Sergeant, is the peril you must avoid.¡±

    ¡°Alright, I get that. But wouldn¡¯t a small test be the best way to figure out if it''s working? Just a flicker, a spark. Right now we¡¯re flying blind. If the nd can¡¯t handle even that much, better to know now thanter, yeah?¡±

    ¡°A ¡®spark¡¯¡­¡± Elina looked almost unsure, but she wasn¡¯t so easily convinced. ¡°You may well be right that testing the nd could offer insight into its recovery. Yet as innocuous as it may appear, I believe you might be ¨C I believe you are overlooking the true nature of the mana nd.¡± She paused, like she was going to say one thing but decided on another. ¡°The risk is stark. You risk¡­ a cascade of failures.¡±

    Cole fought back a wince. Mack looked like he was about to tear into another half-trained terp medic. Maybe he had a case, but this wasn¡¯t standard medicine. Chances were, he knew more about human anatomy than anyone in this castle ¨C or even the whole Kingdom ¨C ever would. A mana nd, though? That sounded like some bullshit even Dr. House himself wouldn¡¯t be able to diagnose. And after nearly losing Mack, well, ¡®cascade of failures¡¯ wasn¡¯t something Cole wanted to risk finding out about firsthand.

    Mack kept moving through his stretches. If anything, he¡¯d be even more adamant. ¡°Fair enough. But I think the risk of <em>not</em> doing it is worse. Muscles atrophy if you don¡¯t use them. Even brain function drops off without activity. If we leave the ndpletely idle during recovery, couldn¡¯t that make things worse in the long run? I mean, especially considering that y¡¯all probably need heroes that can actually¡­ <em>fight</em> the Demon Lord?¡±

    Elina hesitated, looking at Verna this time. All it took was one shrug for the good doctor to realize that she probably wouldn¡¯t be winning this one.

    Mack knew exactly when to capitalize. ¡°Just a test; see if everything¡¯s hooked up right, y¡¯know? If I can manage a spark without strain, we know the nd¡¯s stabilizing. If I can¡¯t, I stop right there. No harm done.¡±

    Elina sighed. ¡°¡®No harm done,¡¯ you say, as though magic were so obliging.¡± She stood up. ¡°Very well, Sergeant. Lady Verna, if you would.¡±

    ¡°Just a single spark. Picture warmth gathering in ¨C¡± Verna started, but a small me blooming above Mack¡¯s palm cut her off.

    ¡°How the hell?¡± Ethan stepped closer. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I did.¡±

    Mack grinned, nodding.

    Talk about getting outdone. Ethan wasn¡¯t alone in the shock. ¡°You just¡­ picked it up from watching?¡± Cole asked.

    The me winked out as Mack sagged back. ¡°Seemed straightforward enough.¡± A nonchnt answer; deliberate ¨C definitely to rub it in, if that smirk on his face was anything to go by.

    Verna looked between them. ¡°You¡¯ve already demonstrated the technique?¡±n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

    ¡°Just a small example earlier,¡± Ethan exined. ¡°Literally just did this,¡± he said, spawning a small me. ¡°Wasn¡¯t even trying to teach.¡±

    ¡°Well then.¡± Verna wore the expression of a chess master watching a toddler call checkmate. Then, just as quickly, it shifted to one of genuine amazement. ¡°To replicate magic perfectly just from seeing it once¡­¡± She paused, then held up her hand.

    A small crystal of ice formed above her palm. ¡°Perhaps¡­ might you try this as well?¡±

    Mack concentrated on the crystal. Barely a secondter, a simr piece of ice formed above his hand.

    He let it dissipate immediately, taking heavy breaths. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s¡­ yeah, I think that¡¯s enough.¡±

    Cole ced a hand on Mack¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Yeah, should probably chill out on the magic, then. We¡¯lle visit, read you a bedtime story.¡±

    ¡°They at least got anything good?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ we¡¯re still on uh¡­ children¡¯s books.¡± Cole let his voice trail off.

    ¡°We? Who¡¯s we?¡± Miles chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m already on the damn editorials. Y¡¯all¡¯re still soundin¡¯ out the letters.¡±

    Cole rolled his eyes. ¡°Can you actually understand what the papers are saying?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    Ethanughed. ¡°On the bright side, thenguage is more like picking up a Europeannguage rather than trying to figure out Farsi. It¡¯s got an alphabet, letters, and it¡¯s got English construction. No weird syntax order, no logographic shit like in Mandarin. Easy to learn.¡±

    ¡°Huh, alright.¡± Mack¡¯s stomach growled.

    ¡°Oh, yeah. By the way,¡± Cole remembered, ¡°they got legit miso here. And a straight up Grand m, like from Denny¡¯s. Shit¡¯s good.¡±

    Mack raised an eyebrow.

    Miles shrugged. ¡°Couldn¡¯t believe it neither. Reckon one of them heroes must¡¯ve been Japanese. Brought it all over ¨C soy sauce, tempura, miso, green tea, the works. Hell of a job, too. Tastes like the real deal.¡±

    But Cole knew it didn¡¯t end there. Whoever brought Japanese food over wasn¡¯t alone. Apparently, dozens of heroes had been summoned before they got dragged over ¨C all from different time periods, including Celdorne¡¯s founder. Though, that wasn¡¯t really much of a surprise given the imperial measurements and penchant for tea.

    ¡°Hell of a legacy,¡± Cole said. ¡°One guy introduces a whole new cuisine. You know they probably learned a bunch of other stuff too.¡± The city outside drew his attention. ¡°Civil nning, engineering, science, medicine¡­¡±

    He then nced at Elina. ¡°Actually, that reminds me. When you¡¯re feeling up to it, Mack, you should write down everything you can remember. Especially about medicine and biology. Between that and what we know about guns, engineering, tactics ¨C could make a real difference here.¡±

    Elina straightened. ¡°I would be most interested inparing your methods with ours, Sergeant.¡±

    Mack¡¯s stomach chose that moment to rumble again.

    ¡°Food first though,¡± Cole grinned. ¡°Wish I could rmend the breakfastbo, but you know how it is. in sandwiches and shit.¡±

    No doubt Mack was well aware of the procedure behinda recovery, but it didn¡¯t stop him from being utterly devastated. ¡°Yeah¡­ fuck.¡±

    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and

    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 15: Warren Graves

    Three weeks into their new life in Celdorne, and it had been nothing but acclimating ¨C the fantasy dream curdled into pure tedium. No adventures, no elf waifus, and definitely no freedom. Hell, they couldn¡¯t even get time to leave the castle and explore!

    All those grand expectations, subverted to hell and back. And here they were, getting steamrolled under the weight of cram sessions, like it was finals week all over again. If this wasn¡¯t disillusionment, what was?

    But finally, they¡¯d been blessed with a glimmer of hope: an intermediate evaluation from a Slayer, dropping by unannounced. Cole hadn¡¯t heard news until now, but apparently OTAC had finished their internal review and cleared them for integration. About damn time.

    Word around the castle was that OTAC had found more mimics than expected during their sweep. Most happened to be in the lower ranks and the relatively unimportant logistics roles ¨C no offense to anyone in that field. Recruits, maintenance crews, haulers ¨C predictable targets: easy to infiltrate and often overlooked.

    But some had wormed their way up the ladder. Some had served as Slayers for a few years now, and one had even managed to secure a Captain¡¯s role. Nothing higher up, thank God, but still¡­ No wonder the review had taken forever.

    Their evaluator was even more proof of just how serious OTAC was taking this. Built like the damn Hulk, there was something about the man that Cole couldn¡¯t put his finger on. Most operators he knew carried a certain weight ¨C the shit they¡¯d seen, the shit they¡¯d done ¨C like a shadow that never left. But not this guy.

    He didn¡¯t seem weighed down by anything. His eyes weren¡¯t hard or haunted, but steady. Like he¡¯d made peace with it all. Like a pastor who¡¯d traded his Bible for a sword and never looked back. No, that wasn¡¯t right. More like¡­ a pastor who carried both Bible and sword ¨C and wielded them with the same conviction.

    ¡°Sir Warren Graves,¡± he introduced himself as he walked into the library, ¡°Slayer Elite of the Office of Threat Assessment and Control. However, you may simply call me Graves. The Crown has chosen to place its faith in you. I am here to see that faith justified.¡±

    Graves¡­ an interesting name, Cole had to admit. They stood up.

    The man looked at each of them in turn. ¡°Lieutenant Mercer. Sergeant MacPherson. Sergeant Garrett. Sergeant Walker. I trust I¡¯ve not erred.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s us,¡± Cole said. Of course, their actual ranks ¨C Sergeant First Class, Sergeant Major, and Master Sergeant respectively ¨C meant something to them even if they¡¯d taken to simplifying it for the locals.

    Warren gave a simple nod. ¡°Please, be seated.¡±

    As they sat back down, he walked over to a shelf and picked out a book. ¡°Lady Verna has prepared you as best she can,¡± Warren said, returning to them. ¡°I shall witness your progress ere your induction among our number. We shall begin here before proceeding to the training hall.¡±

    He opened to a marked page and set it before Miles. ¡°Sergeant Garrett. If you would read aloud the account of our kingdom¡¯s founding.¡±

    Miles took the book with a grimace. Cole fought back a smirk. All that bragging about editorials was about to bite him in the ass. Time to see if he was simply bullshitting, or if he was actually legit about his progress.

    Miles cleared his throat and started reading. His Texan drawl did interesting things to the stuffy historical language:

    ¡°Thus did Alexander Celdor, in the Year Three Hundred and Three of the¡­ Sundered Era, having driven back the demons at great cost, establish our sovereign realm upon these¡­¡± His eyes narrowed slightly, ¡°...verdant shores. For in his wisdom, gained through bitter contest against the infernal legions, he foresaw that the Istraynian Wastes would ever remain a wellspring of demonic corruption, from whence fresh horrors might emerge to plague mankind anew.¡±

    Cole had to raise an eyebrow, reading over Miles¡¯ shoulder. So it seems he wasn¡¯t just talking shit after all. He did have a couple rough patches here and there, but nothing that simple context clues couldn¡¯t solve.

    Then came his turn. Cole picked up where Miles left off. ¡°Whereupon he gathered his most steadfast soldiers, those who had proven their worth against the Fourth Tide, and there upon the cliffs overlooking what would become Alexandria, he laid the foundation of our kingdom. ¡®Let this land,¡¯ spoke he, ¡®stand as an eternal¡­ vigilance against the darkness. Not by strength of arms alone shall we prevail, but by the steadfast resolve of common men who choose to stand their ground.¡¯¡±

    Warren¡¯s congratulation came in the form of just a nod ¨C passable. Not much, but it¡¯d do. After just a day of Miles¡¯ smug ass waving those newspapers around while the rest of them were still stuck on kids¡¯ fairy tales, Cole had practically lived in the library. It was worth every minute of it now.

    Ethan hadn''t done too bad either. Probably got just as sick of Miles¡¯ newspaper routine as he had.

    ¡°¡®I must here set down a truth most remarkable,¡¯¡± Ethan read, ¡°¡®for I have witnessed what learned men would scarce credit ¨C that our greatest victories were not won by those blessed with heaven¡¯s gift, but by common men, who, when confronted with horrors beyond mortal ken, chose to stand fast though every fiber of their being cried out for flight.¡¯¡±

    Mack had shown them all up though ¨C caught up completely. Guess there wasn¡¯t much else to do stuck in that infirmary bed besides read. He wrapped up the account from Alexander Celdor, even tossing in a bit of regal voice acting. ¡°¡®Though a hero¡¯s might may fell demons, it is the common soldier¡¯s resolve ¨C to stand steadfast before terrors that should shatter any mortal¡¯s spirit ¨C that truly turns the tide. For what demon can fathom such conviction? What force of hell can break the will of men who stand not for glory nor reward, nor even for their own survival, but because they know that if they do not, none shall?¡¯¡±

    If Warren was impressed, he didn¡¯t show it. He simply moved on and pulled out several sheets of paper and placed them on the table. ¡°Simple phrases. Market prices, travel directions, and the like. The essentials.¡±

    Cole couldn¡¯t be more ready. Neither could the others; even if they didn¡¯t know the words, the language was essentially just English but with different letters. They¡¯d gotten the sounds down, so they could pretty much write whatever Warren dictated.

    ¡°A loaf of bread, twenty-five pence,¡± Warren began. ¡°The butcher¡¯s rates for fresh mutton. One hundred fifty pence per pound.¡±

    The quill felt awkward in Cole¡¯s hand ¨C definitely hadn¡¯t gotten used to that yet, but their pens wouldn¡¯t last forever. Hadn¡¯t gotten used to hearing shillings and pence either. Still, at least the currency was as intuitive as the quills. Simple, logical, easy to remember. A hundred pence made a shilling, and a hundred shillings made a crown.

    Cole could¡¯ve sworn the British system used different ratios, but apparently Alexander Celdor had the right idea when he set things up. Would¡¯ve been easier if he¡¯d just called them dollars and pennies, but hey, he¡¯d take what he could get. Made a lot more sense than whatever the hell the Victorians did back then, anyway.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Proceed from the Northern Gate, travel east along the river¡¯s course until arriving at the mill. Cross at the stone bridge¡­¡±

    Easy enough.

    ¡°Incident report,¡± Warren continued. ¡°Time: 3PM. Location: Office of Threat Assessment and Control, Artifact Research. Nature of Report: Suspicious Persons. Details: Two subjects observed. One is male, approximately six feet, wearing dark cloak¡­¡±

    Finally, Cole was done. He glanced at the others, who¡¯d also finished, then back down at his paper. No spelling errors, hopefully.

    Warren scanned their work in about thirty seconds. Sure enough, no issues. ¡°A proper grasp of our written word in mere weeks. Hm. Let us now see what progress Lady Verna¡¯s instruction has wrought.¡±

    Verna was already there when they walked in, and for once she wasn¡¯t radiating sunshine and rainbows. She curtsied. ¡°Good morning, Sir Warren.¡±

    ¡°Lady Verna,¡± he replied with a bow. ¡°Shall we begin?¡±

    They ran through the whole curriculum: basic elements, barriers, strengthening magic, all topped off with simple spell combos. Nothing they hadn¡¯t covered extensively over the past weeks.

    Warren just watched. Didn¡¯t say a word through any of it. When they finished, his attention shifted to Mack, who¡¯d been standing off to the side.

    ¡°Sergeant MacPherson. Have you had the opportunity to study during your recovery?¡±

    Cole frowned. Warren had to know Mack wasn¡¯t completely stable yet. But here he was, prodding for a demonstration anyway.

    ¡°Just theory, Sir Warren. But I wouldn¡¯t mind putting on a show.¡± Mack read him like an open book, and apparently didn¡¯t give a shit about intent. He readily accepted the unspoken challenge. ¡°These basic spells barely use any mana anyways.¡±

    The surprise on Warren¡¯s face lasted maybe half a second before morphing into amusement. ¡°Very well. You may grace us with this ¡®show¡¯ of yours.¡±

    Mack stepped up as Verna raised an earthen dummy. This should be interesting; unlike the rest of them, he¡¯d apparently been experimenting on his own time ¨C decided that their training sessions were just a starting point rather than a script to follow.

    The mud formed exactly where he needed it, right under the target. Took them damn near half a day of drilling to get that kind of precision, and here was Mack pulling it off after what, maybe a cumulative hour of practice? The consistency shifted in real time too. It started liquid enough to move fast, thickening as it wrapped the target.

    Mack must¡¯ve seen a shit ton of Animal Planet, because that mud shot up and struck like a boa constrictor going for the kill. Then, as soon as it wrapped around the target, it hardened. But for it to harden that fast? It couldn¡¯t just be earth and water magic. No, he was channeling every traditional element they¡¯d learned simultaneously ¨C fire, air, topped off with expert temperature control to transform that soft clay into something closer to ceramic in a split second.

    Miles whistled. ¡°Damn. Now that¡¯s some Avatar-level shit.¡±

    Cole couldn¡¯t agree more. Between Mack¡¯s ability to pick up magic instantly and his willingness to actually experiment with it¡­ man. While they¡¯d been following Verna¡¯s curriculum to the letter, Mack had said fuck it and started pushing boundaries. Combining elements, testing interactions, seeing what these basic spells could actually do. Hell, they could¡¯ve done this too, if only they weren¡¯t so stuck in training-wheels mode.

    Having ensnared his target, Mack followed up with a basic fireball. He started just as Verna had taught: fire, air, and wrap it inside a barrier. So far, so standard. But then, he deviated from the script.

    Rock fragments ¨C pulled from the ground and pulverized into shrapnel ¨C began orbiting the contained flame. A second barrier formed around them, larger than the first. The front of both shells curved inward into a cone-shaped depression, while a small hole opened in the back.

    Son of a bitch. Cole could recognize that move anywhere. It was straight out of their late-night yap session about modernizing Verna¡¯s spell! Mack had actually taken their shop talk and turned it into something real while the rest of them were still playing by the book.

    When the spell launched, it didn¡¯t travel like their normal fireballs. It blitzed forward like a rocket, but Mack¡¯s control kept it dead on target. It crossed the distance in an instant, striking center mass.

    Unlike the rapid expansion of Verna¡¯s thermobaric design, this was pure directed violence. The barriers ruptured simultaneously, turning their contained energy into a focused blast. It hit like a canister shot, spraying superheated fragments in a concentrated cone through the target. When the dust settled, the dummy was just¡­ gone. The stone wall behind it didn¡¯t fare much better.

    Even Warren¡¯s stoic persona cracked a bit. His eyes widened just a fraction ¨C the equivalent of another man¡¯s jaw hitting the floor. Verna had both hands over her mouth.

    Ethan summed it up perfectly: ¡°Holy shit.¡±

    ¡°MacPherson, that is¡­ quite a recovery you¡¯ve made,¡± Warren said. ¡°Take care not to overtax yourself.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Mack laughed. He held up his hands, explaining himself in unparalleled humility. ¡°Still healing. All that? Just basic spells; nothing Lady Verna hadn¡¯t already taught us.¡±

    Warren turned to Verna. ¡°You¡¯ve taught them advanced combinations?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Verna shook her head, still staring at the wreckage. ¡°Well, I did teach them the enhanced fireball ¨C how to integrate air for added force and preserve its power within a barrier. However, I shan¡¯t take credit for the fragmentation, nor the curious shaping. I¡¯ve seen but hints of such designs in theoretical trials¡­ It seems that these are Sergeant MacPherson¡¯s own innovations.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Warren studied Mack again. ¡°Tell me, Sergeant, has your mana capacity been assessed yet? There¡¯s no record of it in your dossier.¡±

    ¡°Sir Warren,¡± Verna interjected before Mack could respond. ¡°Though his recovery has been most remarkable, the manameter would invite undue strain. He should avoid such exertion.¡±

    ¡°A modest measurement shall suffice,¡± Warren pushed back. ¡°Only such as the Sergeant¡¯s constitution can safely endure.¡± He glanced at Mack then at Cole.

    Of course, Cole could order Mack to do it. But this wasn¡¯t his decision to make, nor was it his field of expertise. He raised his eyebrows at Mack ¨C this was something for him to handle.

    ¡°Dr. Gracer and I discussed this, actually,¡± Mack said. ¡°We¡¯ve been planning to do a baseline reading anyway, some way to measure recovery progress.¡±

    Verna hesitated, but it seemed she trusted Mack enough. Or at least, trusted Elina¡¯s trust in Mack. ¡°Very well,¡± she said with a sigh.

    Warren led them to the testing chamber looking like some field commander who¡¯d just been told his requisitions were finally coming through. Not quite smiling, but Cole could tell ¨C the man had dropped that pastor-like serenity from earlier. What had him so intrigued?

    As they arrived at the testing room, Verna began instructing Mack. ¡°Stand at this line,¡± she said, gesturing to the 3-foot mark. ¡°Simply form a barrier and direct only such measure of mana as you can safely control.¡±

    The fluid in the manameter began to rise as soon as Mack started. Through the first bulb¡­ second¡­ fourth¡­ fifth. The moment Mack winced, he cut it off clean. Warren almost exposed his disappointment with a sigh, but even this partial measurement was exciting enough.

    Level 15. Hyperphantasia permitting a natural talent with magic was one thing, but that kind of raw power on top of it? No wonder Warren was in heat. The Slayers had just found themselves a gold mine.

    ¡°Most impressive,¡± Warren said. ¡°And with conscious restraint, no? I should imagine Level 17, perhaps higher, at full capacity.¡±

    Ethan chuckled. ¡°Damn, doc. And here we thought we were hot shit hitting level 10.¡±

    ¡°¡®Hot shit,¡¯ Warren repeated. ¡°Vivid. Though raw power, while promising, is but the first step. We shall see what becomes of it, beginning on the morrow.¡± He addressed everyone, ¡°Report to the library at 9 in the morning. We shall proceed to the Office¡¯s grounds from there. Good day, gentlemen.¡±

    Cole watched him go. It was hard not to feel a bit envious of Mack; seemed like everything came naturally to him, even mana capacity. Especially mana capacity. Visualization, he could do just as well, if not better.

    But hell, after three weeks of being cooped up in the castle, Cole would take what he could get. At least tomorrow they¡¯d finally see what Alexandria actually looked like beyond their window view.

 Chapter 16: Uncaged

    Three weeks of staring at the same view of Alexandria¡¯s rooftops, and today, freedom.

    Not that their suite wasn¡¯t comfortable ¨C they¡¯d lived like kings. Well, probably not on the same level as King Armonde, but even then it wouldn¡¯t change the fact that they had been birds in a cage. Outside was a real city, one that gave them exploratory blue balls.

    Cole¡¯s watch read 8:55, give or take. After three weeks around magic, baking in alien fields and being subjected to another planet¡¯s magnetic field, it was anyone¡¯s guess how far off it really was. Probably not that much, though, given the sunlight coming through the library windows. Should be about time for the 9AM bell to ring.

    Of course, Miles couldn¡¯t just wait patiently. He hadn¡¯t stopped pacing by the window, until now. ¡°Hey, there¡¯s that car again.¡±

    Cole leaned back in his plush seat. ¡°Man, you¡¯re tripping. Celdorne ain¡¯t advanced enough to have cars. Besides, I¡¯ve been staring out these windows every day. Nothin¡¯ but carriages and those weird-ass horses.¡±

    ¡°Trippin¡¯? Why don¡¯t ya come see for yourself, then? Look ¨C Warren¡¯s getting out.¡±

    Cole hauled himself up and joined Miles at the window. Mack and Ethan had their faces plastered along the glass as well.

    Cole glanced down at the vehicle. Sure enough, it was a car. Not as pretty as a Model T, but getting there. It looked like someone had started with a horse carriage, stripped away everything unnecessary, and rebuilt it around a combustion engine. But unlike any engine Cole had seen before, it had wiring that snaked from a brassy ¨C aerochalcum ¨C container of mana crystals to runic arrays etched into the metal. Whatever the runes did, it probably replaced components, given the compact nature of the setup.

    ¡°Well, looks like you weren¡¯t bullshitting,¡± Cole said. He turned to glance at the others. ¡°You know what this means, right?¡±

    ¡°That we could make a fortune introducing assembly lines?¡± Mack asked.

    ¡°Among other things.¡± Cole grinned. ¡°Looks like they¡¯ve got the basic concept down, but there¡¯s gotta be a reason we haven¡¯t seen these before. Must cost a fortune to build.¡±

    ¡°Them crystals, for one. Sure ain¡¯t cheap.¡± Miles stepped back from the window. ¡°And all them runes? Hell, no wonder we haven¡¯t seen much of ¡®em.¡±

    Ethan nodded. ¡°Those runes could be doing anything. Not to mention how hard it¡¯d be to even make them ¨C considering we know nothing about making runes in the first place.¡±

    Cole hummed. It was true, but that didn¡¯t deter him. ¡°Exactly my point though. Sure, the magic stuff¡¯s expensive. Enigmatic, yeah. But that could change if we study ¡®em. Mass production would be perfect.¡±

    Mack had already caught his excitement. ¡°Shit, if they¡¯re already mixing magic with machinery, I bet we could optimize the whole system. 50 crowns a month ain¡¯t gonna be shit by the time we¡¯re through with runes.¡±

    ¡°Magic tech startups,¡± Ethan mused, staring out at the street. ¡°Though I¡¯m willing to bet those Istraynian expeditions are where the real money is. Literally, and for technology.¡±

    ¡°If you can get past the demons,¡± Miles snorted. ¡°And whatever else crawled out of those ruins.¡±

    The door opened. Warren stepped in with a slight smile, brighter than the poker face that colored his introduction yesterday.

    ¡°Gentlemen. I trust you¡¯re ready for your tour of OTAC?¡±

    ¡°More than ready,¡± Cole said, moving away from the window. ¡°Three weeks is a long time to stay cooped up.¡±

    ¡°It commands attention, does it not?¡± Warren tilted his head toward the window.

    ¡°First one we¡¯ve seen,¡± Cole said. ¡°Didn¡¯t even know Celdorne had cars.¡±

    ¡°The For?a Series 8.¡± He sounded like a guy flexing his new Porsche. ¡°So you¡¯re familiar with autos? You¡¯ll get a proper look at it shortly. It shall be our transport to OTAC.¡±

    Cole followed Warren down the castle¡¯s grand staircase, the bell ringing once they reached bottom. The morning sun caught the polished marble just right, making the whole entrance gleam like he¡¯d just opened up a legendary loot box.

    ¡°¡®Bout time we got to see the front gate,¡± Miles muttered behind him. Their suite might¡¯ve been cushy, but nothing could ever be more cushy than freedom.

    The Series 8 waited outside. Up close, the engine setup made a lot more sense. The engine compartment was exposed, but clean. Instead of a radiator, it must¡¯ve used ice and wind magic, based on the blue and green etchings. Core was still just an internal combustion engine though ¨C not much difference on the outside aside from the runes, but he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if it did something like replacing spark plugs with fire magic, or used wind magic for pseudo-turbochargers.

    ¡°I assure you, it rides with a grace surpassing any coach I have thus encountered,¡± Warren said.

    ¡°That¡¯s a high bar,¡± Mack said dryly.

    Warren scoffed, ¡°Indeed, it might have seemed unlikely in the past decade, but we have made great strides in both our roads and the undercarriage design since.¡±

    Cole hopped in the car. The soft leather on his ass and a single look at the road was all he needed to know Warren wasn¡¯t kidding. He hadn¡¯t paid much attention from the suite windows, just assumed it was cobblestone like any other Victorian city.

    Instead, it looked like crushed stone ¨C had to be at least three different grades getting progressively finer toward the surface. The whole thing was sealed under something that gave it a uniform, pale finish, though the granite aggregate was still visible beneath. Maybe the design and color wasn¡¯t intentional. But if it was, the Celdornians were a whole lot smarter than he¡¯d initially given credit for, even on top of the shit he¡¯d seen in their relatively advanced infirmary.

    The road past the exit opened up into wide, tree-lined boulevards, almost like a copy of DC¡¯s federal district. The late Alexander must¡¯ve been one hell of a globetrotter ¨C a smart one at that, seeing he¡¯d basically cherry-picked the best parts of major cities back then to design Alexandria.

    Granite facades and classical colonnades breezed past ¨C classical revival. A lot of marble, a lot of columns, but with a not-so-subtle hint of gilded grandeur.

    ¡°You¡¯re familiar with OTAC¡¯s duties?¡± Warren turned his head toward Cole.

    ¡°Yeah, somewhat. You guys hunt demons, but I take it that¡¯s only the tip of the iceberg.¡±

    Warren nodded. ¡°Indeed. We do not serve under the strictures of His Majesty¡¯s Armed Forces. Our work is carried out by small teams, sent to act where precision is required. Of late, we have been tasked to retrieve artifacts from Istrayn ¨C items of little known purpose, yet of incredible import. At other times, our charge is to eliminate greater threats or secure what must not be lost.¡±

    ¡°What kinda threats we talking about?¡± Mack asked.

    ¡°Demon commanders. Cultist cells. Yet I dare say you¡¯ll find our expeditions no less demanding; the ruins are deep within the enemy¡¯s territory.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Cole exchanged with the others. Different package, but the core mission still sounded awful familiar. ¡°Sounds like our kinda work. Small teams, surgical strike.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Warren¡¯s tone held an inflection at the end. ¡°Then you understand. What service have you rendered in this ¡®United States Army¡¯? Assassinating enemy commanders? Securing artifacts?¡±

    Cole tilted his head. Close enough. ¡°Yeah, something like that. But we weren¡¯t fighting demons, that¡¯s for sure. Mostly desert and urban ops.¡±

    ¡°Perfect,¡± Warren said. ¡°The Istraynian Wastes are much the same. Desert ruins. City remnants scattered throughout.¡±

    Cole sighed. ¡°More desert, huh? Wonderful.¡±

    ¡°Consider it¡­¡± Warren paused, ¡°¡­playing to your strengths. Though unlike human adversaries, demons have little nuance ¨C perhaps none at all. They are driven by pure malevolence. They have no morale to speak of; their retreats governed only by the tactical reasoning of whatever commander controls them.¡±

    ¡°Death machines that don¡¯t give a damn when they¡¯re shot at. Well ain¡¯t that lovely,¡± Miles muttered.

    ¡°Just means we can¡¯t predict them like people,¡± Mack said.

    ¡°Eh, I don¡¯t know about that.¡± Cole shook his head. ¡°They¡¯re smart enough to pass as humans. Presumably, they can also look the part without uncanny valley type shit. They can think like people, I bet. More like¡­ uh, Ted Bundy though ¨C like a psychopath, rather than any normal person. Creative and crafty as they need to be, with no limits on morality.¡±

    The car turned onto the main road through the city: four lanes in each direction, separated by a tree-lined median. Painted lines separated carriages from cars. One of the intersections had lights that cycled between a simple green and red, with the hues fading like timers.

    ¡°A psychopath, yes. Aptly put,¡± Warren agreed. ¡°Though they may ape the habits of men ¨C perhaps speaking as though reason guides them, or pleading for their lives when exposed ¨C they remain what they have always been: creatures of malice. Soulless demons. Beneath the facade lies neither conscience nor compassion. Against such malice, neither can we entertain such ideals.¡±

    Then, the Series 8 entered downtown proper. The wide streets turned into something almost paradisiacal ¨C perhaps even to the point that it could¡¯ve convinced Bob Ross to paint his first city.

    Warren gestured at the crowds. ¡°For their sakes.¡±

    The first thing Cole noticed was a father teaching his kid how to count change at a stand selling some pretty tantalizing skewers. Next was a couple by a fountain, sharing the happiest smiles he¡¯d ever seen. It was the quintessential apocalyptic movie preface: normal people living normal lives, completely oblivious to what lurked beyond ¨C hell, even inside their walls.

    Cole could only nod along. ¡°Yeah, for their sakes.¡±

    ¡°They look happy,¡± Mack said quietly. ¡°Probably don¡¯t even think about what¡¯s out there.¡±

    Warren¡¯s reply was confident. ¡°As it should be.¡±

    It was a simple trade; a logical trade. He got his hands dirty so the world could stay clean. But fighting against demons? Difficulty aside, it was almost refreshing. No moral gymnastics needed when fighting against pure evil.

    The cultists, on the other hand ¨C that was the real tragedy, wasn¡¯t it? Demons merely followed their nature, like rabid dogs. These specimens, au contraire, had tasted of knowledge and life but had chosen damnation regardless. That was the thing about free will. It allowed the perversion that was absolute betrayal.

    To look upon your fellow man and willingly sacrifice them to entities of pure malevolence¡­ shit, Judas¡¯ silver seemed almost quaint in comparison. Cole didn¡¯t know which was harder to stomach: that they were once human, or that they¡¯d willingly abandoned that humanity.

    ¡°Check that out,¡± Miles said, nodding toward the docks coming into view as they exited the downtown area.

    Cole glanced that way. Huh. The sight was so alien it brought him back to reality. A team of minotaur dockworkers moved heavy crates ¨C not quite shipping containers, but the kind that would¡¯ve needed a forklift otherwise. Come to think of it, he hadn¡¯t yet seen any goblins, orcs, or trolls yet. Either they didn¡¯t exist here, or, rather classically, they were under the Demon Lord¡¯s forces.

    But as intriguing as the minotaurs were, they weren¡¯t what fully caught his attention. ¡°Those cranes,¡± he muttered as the Series 8 turned onto the elevated thoroughfare that ran parallel to the port complex. The road gave them a clear view of the docks below, separated from the actual port by a good hundred yards of clear zone and a short earthen wall.

    The layout was fairly standard ¨C lattice booms, winches, counterweights. But the booms should¡¯ve buckled under those kinds of loads. Apparently the cranes just said fuck it. Probably had something to do with the shiny silvery metal they were made of, plus those purple-colored runes. Whatever they did, he couldn¡¯t guess as easily as the blue and red elemental runes he¡¯d often seen.

    ¡°Notice anything interesting?¡± Ethan asked.

    ¡°Yeah. Their stress tables must be crazy as hell.¡± Cole watched another load go up ¨C this one the size of a full shipping container. Then, his eyes shifted towards the pulleys. ¡°Eight-part line though. They ain¡¯t tryna brute force everything with magic.¡±

    ¡°Alexandria¡¯s port authority maintains exacting standards,¡± Warren explained, bringing them around a bend.

    The operational areas below were clearly marked, with dedicated lanes for the minotaur teams and strict zones around each crane¡¯s radius. Even from up here, the organization was obvious ¨C not OSHA standard, perhaps, but nothing to balk at given the insane circumstances this civilization had to work with.

    A sharp whistle cut through the air. One of the minotaur teams cleared a zone as a crane began repositioning.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Cole agreed. ¡°Pretty exacting, alright.¡±

    ¡°Celdorne¡¯s craft stands above all others on Tenria,¡± Warren continued. ¡°This is the work of the Office of Thaumaturgy, built on relics recovered during our expeditions. Yet all of it, every device and invention, rests upon the foundation King Alexander laid when this kingdom was born. That you hail from the same Earth as he¡­ There is more to show you, though I suspect even our finest works may seem humble to your eyes.¡±

    The port¡¯s cranes faded behind them as the city bounds gave way to open farmland. Neat rows of crops stretched out on both sides of the road, dotted with barns and the occasional manor house. Kinda seemed like the old South, or maybe the English countryside, though neither comparison quite captured it. Either way, Cole had to snap a picture. For all of Celdorne¡¯s marvels, the machines they¡¯d left behind were no more impressive than this.

    After a few miles of traveling at a moderate pace, Warren gestured to their first stop ¨C a sprawling residential district that mirrored any suburban town back home. The houses were a healthy mix of everything from Colonial to Victorian. More importantly ¨C at least to Cole, the neighborhood gave Hollywood Hills vibes. Celdorne definitely didn¡¯t cut corners when it came to its Slayers.

    ¡°These are the personnel quarters,¡± Warren said. ¡°Housing will be assigned to you once processing is complete. We¡¯ve numerous vacancies; you will have the opportunity to select what suits you best.¡±

    Cole frowned. ¡°¡®Numerous vacancies¡¯, huh?¡±

    ¡°His Majesty believes in preparation.¡±

    Cole relaxed his shoulders. For a second there he¡¯d thought it meant the usual mission attrition ¨C not bad under modern standards, but typically high for fantasy settings. But nah, apparently it was just the king making sure his premier demon hunters lived comfortably. Though¡­ it did make him wonder about the other vacancies Warren wasn¡¯t talking about. Slayers allegedly had a very high survival rate, but who knew if that was just government propaganda?

    The road leading out of town brought them to more farmland. Past that and the occasional settlement stood... the fuck? The Great Wall of Flak Towers? Cole glanced at the back seat. Everyone else seemed just as dumbfounded.

    The common image of a guard tower typically evoked some skinny structure with a ladder attached to it, accommodating a few men. These couldn¡¯t be further from that image. These were brutalist monstrosities ¨C massive constructs at least a hundred feet tall, with enough room for a dreadnought¡¯s artillery.

    Warren caught their reaction. ¡°The Final Line. These walls endured for generations, unyielding, until we learned to master Istraynian concrete. By His Majesty¡¯s will, they were strengthened. Yet by His grace, their strength has never been tested. I pray it remains so.¡±

    A fine prayer, but a damn harrowing one in its unspoken implications. Even from a distance, the towers were massive as shit ¨C and he¡¯d seen the old G-towers in Vienna. The pale concrete had a sheen to it, kinda like the coating on the roads, though who knew if that was where their similarities ended ¨C or began. The towers formed a line stretching beyond sight, stopping at the beach and extending to the horizon in the other direction.

    As they crested a short hill, an expansive complex finally came into view ¨C easily several square miles of military and bureaucratic infrastructure. The main headquarters stood at its heart, a tall E-shaped building that reminded Cole of the original War Department design, before the Pentagon. Various other facilities spread out around it, with the kind of setback distances and security measures that suggested some serious work went on here.

    ¡°Sheesh,¡± Mack grinned, sitting up in his seat for a better view. ¡°Hell of an operation.¡±

    ¡°One befitting its purpose,¡± Warren replied. ¡°Welcome to OTAC.¡±

 Chapter 17: OTAC (1)

    The guard posts and firing positions looked more Pentagon than palace. Not the best against demons, but then again, that¡¯s what the wall in the distance was for. The only threat worth worrying about here was simply unwanted visitors.

    The singular path in was blocked by a simple checkpoint consisting of guards, a bar gate, and an arch off to the side. Kinda looked like one of those walk-through metal detectors at airports, large enough to accommodate even the Minotaurs he''d seen earlier. This had to be the nullification field Fotham mentioned.

    Warren stepped out of the vehicle, producing his ID as he spoke with the guards. He beckoned for the rest of them to disembark, then approached the arch.

    ¡°Follow as I do.¡± He walked through it. ¡°You shall feel naught but momentary discomfort, provided one is as they appear to be.¡±

    ¡°And if not?¡± Cole asked.

    ¡°Then one is exposed for what they truly are and eliminated accordingly.¡±

    Cole kept his pace even as he hit the invisible wall. Something shoved his mana back toward his spine, like Magneto was trying to compress his insides. Not painful exactly, but weird as fuck. At least this procedure didn¡¯t involve digging in his ass like with TSA. Not that anyone had ever dug into his ass, of course. Hopefully, with the nullifier as purportedly effective as it was, this realm would never have to face such an assault.

    Miles grunted behind him. ¡°Suppose it ain¡¯t as bad as standin¡¯ under one of them Guardians.¡±

    ¡°Microwaves roasting you from the inside out¡­ Shit, imagine if all metal detectors were like that?¡± Cole shook his head, the pressure easing completely as he walked several feet past the arch. ¡°At least it''s quick.¡±

    The gate opened once Mack got through, and the guards stepped aside with nods.

    The drive to the main building took another few minutes, passing training grounds and some unadorned, blocky structures before pulling up to the entrance.

    The main building itself had quite the first impression, though. Three stories of granite facade topped with decorative brass work, because apparently even demon hunters needed curb appeal. But to be fair, it was probably more to impress visitors. After all, what better way to say that the demon situation is under control than to wave it away with grandeur?

    Warren led them up the front steps. He held up a hand, stopping them just inside the doorway.

    A familiar figure stood ahead ¨C the head of OTAC, Cullen Fernal, still rocking that brigandine. Though after the infiltration, the paranoid fashion choice made a lot more sense. More than the fancy dress uniforms the castle provided, anyway. That thousand-yard stare hadn¡¯t changed either, though the bags under his eyes looked even heavier. Running internal security sweeps probably didn¡¯t help with the sleep schedule.

    And neither did business. He was speaking with a lupine nobleman by the main desk ¨C your typical ¡®distinguished gentleman¡¯ with perfect posture and an equally polished manner, except of course, for the fact that he was a wolf-man. The guy wore enough rings to catch every glint of light ¨C utility? Or some sort of flex, maybe, but one that fell beneath the Director-General¡¯s notice.

    Cole had seen enough high-level procurement meetings to read the room: the noble chose each word carefully, like he knew damn well the real power wasn¡¯t in his rings or his title. There was something about Cullen¡¯s intensity that made it clear who held the cards ¨C clear even for upstuck nobles who could buy half the city.

    ¡°... contributions of House Kaldven to the expedition certainly warrant recognition, Duke Alvak,¡± Cullen was saying, ¡°though not as far as to warrant deviation from protocol. The artifacts shall remain with us. However, in deference to your unwavering support, I shall extend to your scholars the courtesy of a cursory study ¨C though only under the condition that our examinations proceed without hindrance or delay.¡±

    ¡°A cursory study, Director-General?¡± Alvak¡¯s rings caught the light as he gestured. ¡°A generous gesture, to be sure, though surely it would not profit your endeavors as well as extended collaboration. Indeed, I hear your teams recovered Istraynian rifles. Were these studied and adapted for broader deployment, the forces tied to colonial defense could be redistributed¡ªperhaps to aid OTAC¡¯s expeditions. With such arms, we might even spare a hero, if the exchange proves agreeable.¡±

    ¡°Our ranks are already quite sufficient. Though I am curious how your colonial forces came to be so expendable. One might think Aurelian expansion would require every soldier at your disposal.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, but a single hero can only stand guard over one frontier,¡± Alvak pressed. ¡°We¡¯ve surveyed three new deposits in Gulhan as well. A hero may be sufficient for one mine alone, but your rifles would see a dozen outposts raised before next summer.¡±

    ¡°Gulhan, hm? Gulhan does lie rather close to Aurelian territory, does it not? You¡¯ll forgive my reluctance to deliver such weapons to their¡­ potential benefit.¡± Cullen glanced at the doorway past Cole.

    Alvak turned, following Cullen¡¯s gaze. He laid eyes on Cole and his team, probably taking their arrival as a cue to back off. ¡°Then perhaps we might revisit this discussion, Director-General, once you¡¯ve had the time to examine my proposal in full. I shall have my secretary deliver the details of our current operations.¡±

    Cullen nodded. ¡°Very well. Good day, Duke Alvak.¡±

    ¡°Good day, Lord Cullen.¡±

    The noble walked past them, offering a small nod. Cullen¡¯s eyes followed until the doors closed, then shifted to their group. His tired expression warmed slightly. ¡°Gentlemen. Welcome to the Office of Threat Assessment and Control.¡±

    He gestured for an aide, who brought forward a leather-bound case. ¡°Contained herein are your credentials. You will, for now, bear the title of Slayer Recruits. A concession to propriety, nothing more. Your privileges, as agreed upon, are those of Slayer Captains.¡±

    The brass badges had some fancy engravings worked into them, with runes Cole recognized ¨C simple barriers. Pretty neat.

    ¡°Sir Warren shall acquaint you with our operations. We will speak again ¨C when there is something worth discussing.¡± Cullen briefly analyzed their reactions, then headed off down one of the side corridors, probably to whatever kept those bags under his eyes so dark.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Warren took them upstairs, winding through the building until they hit a set of heavy wooden doors. Cole pushed through and almost felt his jaw hang open as he took in the three-story space. Shit, it looked like a good ¡®ol Tactical Operations Center, built entirely from Celdorne¡¯s magitech and minus the computers.

    ¡°Our Operations Center,¡± Warren said. ¡°The heart of OTAC''s response network.¡±

    The setup was pure JSOC, or maybe even more like SOE, Scrying Panes all around in lieu of plasma screens. Personnel were spread across both floors, coordinating with people on their Panes while runners darted between stations with physical messages. The planning table dominated the center, with unit markers dotting the large regional map of the Kingdom and the neighboring Istraynian Wastes.

    ¡°So this is what we¡¯re up against, huh?¡± Mack approached the map, pointing at a large black square deep in the Wastes. ¡°Guessin¡¯ that¡¯s the Demon Lord¡¯s castle?¡±

    ¡°Not quite so,¡± Warren said, gently shaking his head. ¡°That ruin is but the remnant of a most formidable citadel, once the stronghold of the previous Demon Lord. Whether the new one has taken residence therein¡­ Well, the matter remains uncertain. These sable markings denote territories where we have witnessed the fiends¡¯ depredations. Our own positions,¡± he indicated the blue markers beyond an outer wall labeled the ¡®First Line¡¯, ¡°comprise outposts of inquiry, provision, and vigilance.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯re all them demons doin¡¯?¡± Miles asked, nodding at clusters of black pieces near several outposts.

    ¡°Goblin raids. Small bands striking swiftly, then withdrawing before reprisal. Though they have wrought little harm, this¡­ aberration in their conduct is most concerning. These creatures, you see, have ever been known for their savage charges ¨C possessed of wit enough to wield arms, yet naught beyond. Now, they display a measure of organization. Of tact. Purpose.¡±

    Goblins, huh? Cole raised an eyebrow. Of course they¡¯d be with the demons ¨C no offense intended to the settings with good goblins, of course. Still, it did prove that quaint little adage true: a good goblin is a dead goblin. And here, they had the opportunity to make them good.

    Though after seeing those minotaurs at the docks, he had to wonder what determined who ended up where.

    ¡°So they¡¯re really evolving, then,¡± Ethan commented. ¡°First time, like with their infiltration attempts?¡±

    ¡°Indeed¡­ Novel too is the presence of Orcs at the helm of each raid. One might deduce their purpose ¨C to season fresh commanders in the art of war. See how they probe each manner of outpost in turn. They, I suppose, mean to test the mettle of their leadership against varying prey.¡± He paused briefly. ¡°Or perhaps, to discern which targets warrant the risk of greater force.¡±

    Cole nodded. They were using low-risk operations to train up leadership, evidently. Not exactly a new concept, but frightening enough considering formerly mindless demons had finally started to catch up. ¡°How¡¯re they performing?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I must grant them this measure of competence. Naturally, their raids remain inconsequential, yet one cannot help but observe their discipline under fire. Specifically, the nature of their retreats.¡±

    Miles leaned in to study one of the marked outposts. ¡°They gettin¡¯ close to anywhere important?¡±

    ¡°Not as of yet. In fact, we have found these incidents rather instructive for our own purposes. Where once they would hurl themselves at our walls with savage abandon, now they strike under cover of darkness, or foul weather. They divide their forces, withdrawing the moment our positions present serious resistance.¡±

    A hit and fade, then. This definitely didn¡¯t line up with the relative brutishness of monsters from the various shows Cole had been exposed to.

    ¡°As witnessed at Forward Post Nolaren but a week past, if I might add, sir,¡± a nearby duty officer said. With a nod from Warren, he continued, ¡°The fiends made cunning use of the dead ground for concealment ¨C breached to within fifty yards of the eastern wall. Cunning, truly, the way they used arrows. Crude suppression, to be certain. Yet while our men were occupied with the archers, their spearmen used the distraction to probe elsewhere.¡±

    Warren brought their attention back to the map. ¡°Indeed, we see fit to school our forces in these varied encounters.¡± He pointed first to a triangle, denoting a research outpost. ¡°Our researchers must preserve their charge above all else ¨C their foremost duty lies in swift and orderly withdrawal. Our supply lines face different trials, should the demons prove cunning enough to recognize their worth. If they mean to learn the nature of each target¡­ Well, let them waste their efforts. They shall find precious little for their troubles.¡±

    Mack spoke as a duty officer updated patrol markers near Gulhan. ¡°Looks like this is gonna be our first stop after evaluations, then.¡±

    ¡°Yes, though this is but the first step. From there we shall consider escort duties.¡± He gestured at the marked routes. ¡°Our expeditions oft traverse these benighted wastes for days upon end. A matter you might be familiar with?¡±

    ¡°Somewhat,¡± Cole answered. ¡°Can¡¯t say we¡¯ve pushed through apocalyptic ruins before, but we have had experience with embedded operations ¨C days, weeks without support inside enemy territory. Should point out, though, that this was against our fellow man. Demons ¨C real ones, anyway ¨C are new to us.¡±

    ¡°Then you shall find this¡­ rather different. The protocols differ markedly from human conflict ¨C formation, response, the very manner of engagement. You shall master these matters in due course. When you have proven ready, I shall see you placed with an expedition ¨C much like these squads here, shadowing House Kaldven¡¯s present venture.¡±

    Warren turned to face them. ¡°And once you have proven yourselves in such ventures, greater opportunities shall present themselves. Our monthly expeditions, for instance. We¡¯ve two of our finest minds occupied by an expedition. They are now conducting their studies within the ruins of an Istraynian city.¡±

    ¡®Greater opportunities,¡¯ or so Warren claimed. Classic isekai adventure, right? They must¡¯ve had two wildly different definitions of that term. To Cole, this would be hitting up some cozy taverns, gallivanting through pristine forests, maybe slay a dragon in the process. This? Hell, their ¡®epic quest¡¯ would be picking through dead cities in the middle of a demon-infested wasteland, probably dodging eldritch monstrosities and whatever nasty surprises these Istraynians had left behind. And of course, it¡¯d all happen in another fucking desert.

    ¡°Yeeahhh¡­¡± Cole tried tempering his thoughts. ¡°Suppose we¡¯ll get there when we get there.¡±

    ¡°Then, we shall proceed.¡± Warren gestured toward the door.

    He led them from beneath vaulted ceilings toward the sea-facing wing. ¡°The upper floors are reserved for matters of management. What we leave now is the domain of the Director-General himself. His trusted advisors command the adjacent wings. Ahead, Intelligence ¨C the domain of Lady Syndra Thallen, our Deputy Director. Behind us, in the opposite direction, Sir Lorran Vonsel, who presides over Logistics.¡±

    They continued down the corridor, passing through the administrative sections that connected the major wings. Warren¡¯s pace suggested familiarity with the route, if not the occupants. ¡°My own dealings with the other divisions remain largely confined to matters of simple protocol and requisition. We need not tarry here.¡±

    No surprise there; operators didn¡¯t exactly spend much time with admin unless something needed fixing. Each doorway they passed presented the usual office setup: staff buried in paperwork, officers reviewing reports. Important work, just not the kind worth touring.

    They never actually got to meet Lady Syndra or Sir Lorran. Apparently, something about demon evolution had the leadership locked up in meetings. Eh, perfectly fine by Cole. Besides, he and the others had seen enough offices stateside to know the interesting stuff happened elsewhere: wherever they actually trained their demon hunters, and wherever they cracked open the Istraynian artifacts those expeditions brought back.

    Finally, they completed the circuit around the main building and emerged through the rear doors. Damn, this place was bigger than it looked from the front. The compound was laid out like any base, with decent spacing between the various campuses, plus quite the stretch of empty land isolating what had to be the research campus.

    ¡°Come,¡± Warren said. ¡°We have much ground yet to cover, and the selection of your residence to attend ere the day¡¯s end.¡±

    Seeing the more interesting parts of OTAC was already enticing enough, even for Ethan¡¯s doom and gloom, but being able to finally choose their houses? Shit¡­ say less.

 Chapter 18: OTAC (2)

    The training grounds sprawled out ahead of them as Warren led them past the admin building. Rows of packed earth targets dotted the firing lanes ¨C much like the setup at the castle.

    An instructor at one of the lanes casually waved his hand, and the earthen targets started bobbing and weaving like they were on strings. Two recruits tried to track the movement, rifles shouldered, but kept missing as their target dipped and rolled. The one on the right even looked ready to blame his weapon. He¡¯d get there eventually.

    The far end opened up into a live-fire course. The earthen terrain was shaped into an urban combat setup ¨C buildings, walls, alleys ¨C but in an architectural style unlike the rest of Alexandria. It sported an almost contemporary look. The Istraynians, it seemed, were closer to the modern era than Cole initially thought. A few shots rang out as they walked past.

    Warren gestured toward a three-story building overlooking the range: two blocks connected via several open-air passageways. ¡°Our primary training facility.¡±

    The first floor was dedicated to indoor ranges. The doors were buttoned up tight ¨C familiar setup with the colored lights and warning signs. A few Slayers huddled around a planning table near the entrance, probably sorting out their schedule.

    The second floor, visible through the stairwell, looked more like admin or educational space with offices, briefing rooms, and classrooms. According to Warren, they¡¯d be seeing a lot more of this area in the coming weeks, learning everything from demon physiology to advanced magic theory.

    They exited, cutting across the passageways. The open air revealed more structures to the side, including a fitness center. It had newer construction than the stone facades they¡¯d been seeing ¨C lots of windows and open space. Shit, it honestly wouldn¡¯t look too out of place on a college campus if one ignored the Victorian touches. Cole spotted guys coming in and out of the gym with a mix of uniforms and PT gear, towels slung over shoulders.

    Warren led them through a set of double doors into Celdorne¡¯s fanciest gunsmith shop ¨C the castle being exempt from any comparison, of course. Wall racks and workbenches mixed with shit that would have DARPA foaming at the mouth. Cole could barely identify a third of the stuff here, starting with the simple manameters. Too bad the folks at Picatinny would never get their hands on this.

    Warren brought them to an older smith breaking down a rifle at one of the benches. Some of the runes glowed faintly under a jeweler¡¯s loupe. Had to wonder what would happen if one of those runes got chipped or started wearing down. Given how these things could bisect a demon, probably nothing good. But then again, given Celdorne¡¯s propensity for procedure, maybe the gun would just be¡­ not as powerful.

    The next bench over contained rows of blue crystals slotted into aerochalcum fixtures. Basic charging station ¨C probably cycled through a few hundred of these a day keeping all their gear topped off. Rifles, packs, even those fancy cars like Warren¡¯s.

    ¡°Mister Marlyle, I¡¯d like to introduce you to our heroes,¡± Warren said.

    The smith glanced up. The man was shredded ¨C so much so that Cole had to do a double take at his subdued, fatherly manner of speech. ¡°Warren, lad! These the new recruits, are they?¡± ¡°A fine sight, indeed. Well then, step in! There¡¯s always room for those who¡¯ll put fine tools to better use.¡±

    ¡°Indeed so.¡± Warren turned to them, motioning toward the man with the loupe. ¡°Master Armorer Trent Marlyle shall oversee your section. Inspections are held monthly, unless heavier use demands more frequent care. Keep watch on your runes ¨C wear or damage leaves you no better than a common rifle. Remember: a flaw caught here can be mended; a flaw left unchecked will betray you in the field.¡±

    Cole nodded. Their group didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Hell, he¡¯d had sand fuck him up one too many times to know just how important maintenance was. Middle of nowhere, random ass desert, cleaning his rifle for the third time that day because even looking at the dust wrong could jam him up.

    ¡°How far along are they?¡± Trent asked, shaking their hands.

    Warren folded his arms, nodding toward Cole and the others. ¡°They shall require full kits on the morrow.¡±

    ¡°Right, then.¡± Trent slid his loupe into a pocket. ¡°Have you any experience with arms before?¡±

    ¡°Only the basics,¡± Cole replied. ¡°Three weeks with the enchanted ones. Before that, nine years with all sorts of firearms.¡±

    The others had similar responses, with Miles doing the Southerner stereotype no favors.

    ¡°Well, lads, suppose that¡¯d explain the way you carry yourselves. A steady hand and a practiced eye¡¯ll save you half the trouble. You¡¯ve only to learn the quirks, and that¡¯ll come easy enough. Your gear¡¯ll be ready by nine ¨C bright and early. Come find me then.¡±

    Warren brought them out of the armory and guided them past the maintenance bays, toward another set of doors. ¡°Through here lies Development.¡±

    Inside was a real spectacle, one that reminded Cole of DARPA contractors tinkering with new toys. Except¡­ without the electronics. Looking through these labs, Cole had to wonder what they were cooking up next. Something about crystal drain rates, based on the cursing from the test range. Maybe it was for the guns on those massive towers?

    Development was spread out through several connected workshops. The main floor was assembly, basic testing, and officework. The side rooms and outdoor range were apparently where most of the action happened.

    One such room housed a testing rig with clamps. Nothing special about it, either. Just a simple device with pulleys and winches applying measured loads until something gave. Glass panels lined the test area ¨C fragile as hell normally, but those glowing runes probably had that covered.

    It was no Instron; that much was sure. Friction losses, among other things, had to be playing hell with their actual numbers. They wouldn¡¯t be getting any accurate yield strength numbers, but the device probably told them all they needed to know ¨C which material was shittier than the others.

    Right on cue, the test piece snapped with a crack. The thing went flying straight into the barrier, which lit up with hexagons. Guy running the test barely looked up from his notebook and opened the panel, hooking up the next sample.

    An elf greeted them as they approached the main workspace ¨C dark lipstick, silver jewelry, and a formal dress that had definitely seen some creative modifications. Seemed like even elven nobility had their rebels.

    ¡°Sir Warren.¡± Her tone was silk-smooth aristocrat ¨C as polished as any other noble they¡¯d met thus far, but she wielded it like a private joke. ¡°Come to see our torture of perfectly good metal today?¡±

    ¡°Lady Kathyra Valise takes charge of our materials research,¡± Warren said. ¡°Lieutenant Mercer and his team.¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°A pleasure, truly.¡± She picked up a leather folio, tossing a wink their way ¨C hopefully not towards happily married Ethan. ¡°Though I must away to the research campus. The Biology division has grown terribly excited over their Nevskor specimens. Most resilient creatures, or so they insist.¡±

    ¡°Indeed? We¡¯re bound there as well.¡±

    They joined Kathyra as she boarded a shuttle outside ¨C nothing fancy like Warren¡¯s Series 8, just a simple transport closer to an old tram than any modern bus. She settled into a seat, balancing her folio on her lap. ¡°I imagine you¡¯ve yet to encounter a Nevskor in the field?¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ve yet to encounter the field itself,¡± Cole said, grabbing a seat directly across from her. ¡°This is the first time we¡¯ve left the castle.¡±

    ¡°We did run into those Mimics, though,¡± Ethan mentioned.

    ¡°Mimics¡­. Ah, the infiltrators?¡± Kathyra leaned forward. ¡°Did you¡­ Well, see them change their form, by any chance? Or had they already assumed their disguise when you came upon them?¡±

    Cole shook his head. ¡°Just the end result. Watched one lose its disguise after death, though. Kinda like watching clay melt, maybe?¡±

    She pulled out a notebook, probably jotting down the clay description. ¡°The specimens Sir Charles dissected exhibited peculiar qualities ¨C flowing as though it were water, yet never losing their cohesion. No separation nor decay. I imagine your observation was much the same?¡±

    Miles snorted. ¡°Cohesion? Hell, I dunno ¡®bout that. Looked more like a candle left burnin¡¯ too long ¨C slumped over but didn¡¯t fall apart.¡± He scratched at the back of his neck, frowning as he dug up that unsavory image of the Mimics. ¡°If this Sir Charles says it flows like water, reckon that tracks. Didn¡¯t see it rot or nothin¡¯, but it sure wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d call solid. Dunno what else to say ¡®bout it aside from the fact it was damn fugly.¡±

    ¡°¡®Damn fugly?¡¯ Indeed, Sir¡­ Miles, was it? A hideous marvel if there ever was one.¡± Kathyra chuckled. ¡°Nothing of their like exists in nature, not among the living, at any rate. We¡¯ve endeavored to glimpse the transformation itself, yet¡­ Well, our specimens, alas, lack the basic courtesy of being alive. Still, what we¡¯ve gleaned is remarkable ¨C quite unlike the Nevskor carapaces.¡±

    ¡°Nevskor¡­ you keep mentioning these. What are they?¡± Cole asked.

    Warren answered without hesitation. ¡°Armored beasts ¨C impervious to sword and rifle alike, though vulnerable to field guns.¡±

    ¡°The vile Mimics rely on that grotesque mutability ¨C hardly noble,¡± Kathyra remarked. ¡°The Nevskors, at least, seem designed on the merit of structure. Unyielding. Enduring. Dominance over deception.¡±

    Kathyra pulled out several detailed sketches from her folio. The first showed the creature itself ¨C a nightmarish cross between a giant insect and a predatory reptile with a hunched carapace and six armored legs. And if that wasn¡¯t enough, the damn thing was clad in segmented plates, bristling with spikes.

    More illustrations showed scientific diagrams of the creature¡¯s components, from the structure of the carapace to its basic physiology.

    ¡°Their armor is, I must admit, a marvel,¡± she continued. ¡°A composite of chitin and mineral and fiber, layered and bound together in a way that is ¨C well, difficult to describe without study.¡±

    Cole analyzed one of the diagrams. The overall setup was similar to old Japanese armor, boasting overlapping plates connected by some sort of fibrous material ¨C a combination of defense and mobility. ¡°A lamellar layout,¡± he realized.

    ¡°How do you capture specimens for study?¡± Mack asked. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine they volunteer.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Why, that would be rather optimistic, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± She collected her documents as they neared the research campus. ¡°To isolate one from its pack is, shall we say, an exercise in futility. We do not, as a rule, concern ourselves with capturing any live specimens; their remains, pulverized by artillery or scorched in flame, are far more amenable to study.¡±

    Outside the window, a power plant squatted near the waterline. Multiple stacks belched oddly clean white puffs into the air while intake pipes stretched out into the water. No electrical lines overhead, so the various substations were probably connected via underground conduits.

    Kathyra paused, glancing at the plant in the distance, ¡°Were we inclined to take one alive, the methods, I suppose, would be elementary. Earth magic and wind magic, to ensnare and suffocate. Crude, perhaps, but perfectly serviceable. Alas, such efforts seldom justify the risk.¡±

    The shuttle slowed as they finally arrived at their stop. Another nullification arch spanned the road, this one adorned with more runes compared to the base entrance. The familiar mana compression hit Cole as they passed through.

    The second checkpoint seemed almost redundant this deep in OTAC territory. Then again, they still didn''t know half of what demons could do. Those infiltrators had been one nasty surprise ¨C for all they knew, some demon subspecies could sprout wings or burrow underground.

    Past the walls lay something like a Victorian university quadrangle, though the similarities ended there. The perimeter wall wasn''t meant to keep threats out; the guard towers faced inward, arranged to cover every possible escape route from the buildings and courtyard. The space between buildings was open, but each building had a chokepoint of an entrance ¨C or exit.

    The north building dominated the complex proper ¨C three stories of granite and steel built like a supermax prison. Definitely for securing and containing. Protecting? Well, who knew how many breaches had occurred so far. Not many drastic breaches, if the relative cleanliness of the campus was anything to go by.

    According to Kathyra, the east and west wings housed less dangerous research but maintained similar containment principles. The southern wing, like the north building, was completely isolated from the other facilities.

    She cast an elegant gesture toward it with her folio. ¡°Artifact Research. Here lie the finest relics of a civilization far beyond our own ¨C elegant, precise, and utterly harmless. Provided, certainly, that one approaches them with the requisite wit. Unfortunately, such wit is not always in abundance.¡±

    Miles snorted. ¡°Ain¡¯t no way you¡¯re puttin¡¯ folks on this who can¡¯t tie their own boots, are you?¡±

    ¡°You would think not,¡± Kathyra replied with a smirk that lasted a good half-second before vanishing. ¡°And yet, when the pay is substantial, there is no shortage of individuals eager to feign competence. The lengths some will go to for coin ¨C it would almost be admirable, were it not so thoroughly pathetic.¡± She frowned, not bothering to hide the look of pure disgust on her face. ¡°They clutch at wages as though they¡¯ll live to spend them, yet it is their own ineptitude that ensures otherwise. Ugh.¡±

    Cole caught Miles actually smiling throughout the little rant ¨C a hell of a rarity, but one much welcomed. Wasn¡¯t his usual smirk either; it seemed the goth aristocrat had a way of making disdain sound downright entertaining. Then again, anyone who could make ¡®thoroughly pathetic¡¯ sound that refined probably had stories worth hearing.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± she sighed, collecting herself once more, ¡°this is the domain of Sir Raylan Strinrik and Sir Johnathan Allesoire ¨C our resident dwarf and elf research partnership, if such an absurdity can be believed. Their incessant bickering over methodology is nearly as entertaining as their discoveries. That they have not yet come to blows is truly a marvel, though I supposed their shared thirst for acclaim binds them together. At present, they are in the Wastes ¨C a monthly expedition.¡±

    They stopped as they reached the western building. ¡°Sir Charles, naturally, will argue that his biological specimens are the greater marvel. One need only mention mechanical superiority to see the old lion¡¯s mane standing quite on end. As though a few mangled carcasses could rival the elegance of machines that might bend reality to their will. Such tiresome debates, but one must endure them, I suppose.¡±

    Kathyra adjusted her collar. ¡°Well then, I must away to my meeting. The findings shan¡¯t present themselves, though I suspect they may prove more intelligible than half the minds set to review them.¡± She turned, pausing briefly to offer Miles a smirk. ¡°Do make an effort to avoid being devoured by anything¡­ unusual, won¡¯t you?¡±

    Miles grinned. ¡°No promises, ma¡¯am. If somethin¡¯ does take a bite outta me, though, I¡¯ll be sure to leave it worse off.¡±

    Warren watched her go, then turned back to the team. ¡°Well, it seems Sir Charles Sektarr¡¯s engagements leave him little respite. An introduction shall be arranged when circumstances allow.¡±

    He gestured toward the entrance checkpoint. ¡°For now, there remains but one matter to attend: the selection of your quarters. The estates reserved for you lie in an adjacent area, close to the mansions of the Director-General and my peers. No doubt you noted them as we passed ¨C grand homes befitting heroes. I daresay mighty heroes such as yourselves shall find them to your liking.¡±

 Chapter 19: Living Like Royalty

    ¡°We¡¯ve raised three properties this past summer, appointed for those newly ennobled ¨C knights, barons, lords ¨C and for the champion we¡¯d resolved to summon,¡± Warren said. ¡°You shall have the first choice among these three, for such privilege is due your station.¡±

    Cole glanced outside as they passed by a federalist-style home. ¡°Still a bit surprised we¡¯re getting this done during training. But hey, ain¡¯t arguing with that.¡±

    ¡°Yes, the arrangement was amended. Proximity to the district should spare you needless travel.¡±

    Warren¡¯s car rolled to a stop before 23 Ashard Street. Cole had seen places like this in the movies ¨C the kind of mansion some British lord would probably live in; the average noble aristocrat¡¯s home in most isekai anime. Everything still had that fresh-cut look to it, the stone barely weathered. The granite seemed to flow right up from the ground itself, no seams or mortar lines where the foundation met earth. The builders must¡¯ve used magic to shape the whole property from the bedrock up.

    Miles whistled as they walked past wrought-iron gates, through a simple but well-kept courtyard. ¡°Well, hot damn. Reckon they¡¯re serious ¡®bout keepin¡¯ their heroes comfortable. Didn¡¯t figure we¡¯d be livin¡¯ like royalty just for signin¡¯ up.¡±

    ¡°Privileges due your station,¡± Warren repeated, opening the front door. ¡°Shall we?¡±

    The entrance hall was¡­ well, elegant as fuck. Marble floors, wooden panels climbing thirty feet up the walls, and enough space to park a truck ¨C and not one of the smaller Japanese ones, either. A full 18-wheeler.

    ¡°Little much,¡± Ethan said, failing to hide his smile. Even he had to appreciate the absurdity.

    ¡°This? But a glimpse,¡± Warren said, gesturing to their right. ¡°Come ¨C let us see the drawing room.¡±

    The drawing room was nearly the size of a small hotel ballroom. Plush chairs and divans were arranged in conversational groupings, all in deep reds and golds. Tall windows filled the space with natural light.

    ¡°Through here¡¯s the music room.¡± Warren led them through a side access.

    ¡°Music room?¡± Mack asked.

    ¡°A common indulgence. We deem it a mark of cultivation.¡±

    The music room was smaller, but no less grand. A grand piano sat near tall windows, light spilling across its surface. Damn, they spared no expense here. And if that was the case, then how much would his phone be worth in comparison?

    Past that was a hallway that led to another large space ¨C a formal dining room that could seat twenty easily. ¡°Bit big for four people,¡± Ethan noticed.

    ¡°You¡¯ve expectations to entertain,¡± Warren replied. ¡°Though your status affords you privileges, it comes with obligations as well.¡±

    But what the hell could that even mean? That they had expectations to consider, as heroes? That these expectations included entertaining people? Probably both, knowing how these noble things usually went.

    Cole stared at the massive table. He could already guess who he was referring to, but still¡­ he had to ask. ¡°Entertain uh¡­ who, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Fellow Slayers. Local nobility. Visiting dignitaries. His Highness, the Crown Prince Valerius. Her Majesty, Queen Adelise. His Majesty, King Armonde.¡± Warren shrugged like this was perfectly normal.

    ¡°Social responsibilities,¡± Miles sighed. ¡°We¡¯re soldiers, not¨C¡±

    ¡°Nobles,¡± Mack finished, not sounding particularly thrilled about it. ¡°But that¡¯s exactly what we are now, technically. Most isekai heroes end up with titles and estates. High-ranking Slayers get knighted, and I imagine being heroes puts us at¡­ what, lords? Barons?¡±

    ¡°Baronets,¡± Warren said.

    Ethan crossed his arms, leaning against the table. ¡°So¡­ what, we¡¯re expected to throw dinner parties?¡±

    ¡°Shoot, if they want good eatin¡¯, I¡¯ll smoke ¡®em a proper brisket,¡± Miles grinned. ¡°Eighteen hours, post oak, just like my daddy taught me. Ain¡¯t never had complaints yet.¡±

    Ethan snorted. ¡°Because nothing says ¡®Victorian nobility¡¯ like Texas barbecue.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± Mack added, ¡°if isekai¡¯s taught me anything, it¡¯s that the people always go crazy for whatever food the hero brings over. I mean, y¡¯all saw the miso and Japanese food from that Aurelia place. Burgers, pizza, Texas barbecue, hot dogs, a good taco ¨C could start up a restaurant chain, honestly.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Warren paused, considering. ¡°Indeed, summoned heroes have introduced new cuisine to Tenria. Perhaps they may well enjoy yours. Though, you¡¯ll still be expected to maintain certain formalities, particularly in the upkeep of this property and of your image.¡±

    Cole frowned. ¡°So, hiring staff¡¯s a must, then?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, and they are no random sort, should that be your concern. OTAC maintains a registry of thoroughly vetted personnel. Most Slayers employ no fewer than basic staff for the maintenance of their homes.¡±

    ¡°A chef, some maids, probably a butler to manage it all,¡± Mack said. ¡°Usually how these things work.¡±

    Ethan seemed reluctant. ¡°Yeah, some help? Guess that makes sense. Dinner parties? Not so much.¡±

    ¡°The social obligations may be¡­ deferred,¡± Warren admitted. ¡°There are many justifications for a Slayer¡¯s absence, particularly when such men bear the title of hero. But excuses will not last forever.¡±

    Cole exchanged looks with his team. If they couldn¡¯t fight it, at least they could take solace in what benefits the job offered.

    They moved onto the kitchen. Copper pipes snaked across the ceiling, feeding into the stoves and that familiar rune-etched icebox in the corner. Smaller than the castle¡¯s setup, but just as functional. The adjacent pantry was equally impressive, boasting climate controlled storage, and even had something like a dumbwaiter system connecting to the dining room above.

    Upstairs revealed eight bedrooms, each with its own sitting room and private bath, plus quarters for servants. The master suite was practically an apartment unto itself. The library and study were down another hallway, partially stocked with simple books on the history of Celdorne and magic.

    Overall, the property was objectively impressive. Hard not to be, considering their previous accommodations ran the gamut from FOB tents to that safehouse in Khaldat. Still, no reason to rush the decision when they had options. Better to see them all, even if this one was already a significant upgrade from anything they''d known before.

    ¡°What¡¯s the next one like?¡± Cole asked.

    The second property,  8 Brunswick Square, was a short carriage ride up the district''s main road. The design was boldly neoclassical ¨C Corinthian columns framed the entrance, and the facade looked like something straight out of ancient Rome. The entrance hall doubled down on the impression, complete with a coffered dome that would¡¯ve made Hadrian proud and gilded excess that would¡¯ve made Gatsby cry.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Warren led them through the same sort of rooms they''d just seen. Different furniture, different wallpaper, but the same haughty aristocratic formality. Miles barely glanced at the formal dining room this time. Ethan looked like he¡¯d already made up his mind to veto this property if anyone showed even the slightest bit of interest. Even Mack, who usually had something to say about everything, stayed quiet as they climbed another sweeping staircase.

    The only feature that even got much reaction was the conservatory ¨C  massive glass-enclosed garden space that reminded Cole of pictures he¡¯d seen of the Kew Gardens. Probably exactly what they were going for, complete with tropical specimens that had no business surviving this far north. Not that he could ever imagine actually using this space, but at least it looked pretty.

    By the time they reached the library, with its two-story classical portico and fancy ass frescos, Cole was ready to move on. The amenities were there; same Celdornian conveniences as the first house, but buried under layers of aristocratic dick-measuring. Maybe there were people out there who¡¯d be willing to don the toga, but not him. And certainly not Ethan.

    ¡°Last one, then,¡± Warren announced as they pulled up to 15 Kerling Road. ¡°Our latest construction.¡±

    The last one was really something. The mansion at Kerling Road made an interesting first impression. Though unmistakably a noble''s residence, it had none of that architectural peacocking they''d seen at the last two properties. Hell, they even had a garage out front, with enough space for several For?as.

    ¡°Well shit,¡± Miles said, turning a slow circle in the entrance hall. His grin said everything ¨C after two properties of stuffy excess, this place actually felt comfortable. The looks on the others¡¯ faces suggested they¡¯d already locked this place in as their pick, and honestly? Cole had to agree. But they at least owed themselves a complete tour before finalizing it.

    ¡°The architect took inspiration from the ruins of Istrayn. A touch too foreign for my tastes, I confess. But the modern conveniences it affords, such as the electrical wiring, cannot be dismissed.¡±

    Cole felt his heart jump a little bit. Celdornian ¡®modern¡¯ was nowhere near their understanding of modern, but it was as close as they were ever gonna get. ¡°Electrical wiring?¡±

    ¡°Yes, outfitted throughout.¡± Warren gestured to an aerochalcum plate mounted in the wall. ¡°All derived from Istraynian ingenuity.¡±

    Cole noticed more of the brass fixtures as they moved deeper into the house. They looked like some kind of early power outlets, more robust than what he¡¯d expect from Victorian technology. Though, if the Istraynians were somewhere between the World Wars in terms of tech, it did seem plausible. From what he understood, they probably weren¡¯t too far ahead of Edison¡¯s time, but that was still impressive for this world.

    ¡°Alas, they see scarce utility. For now, their purpose is confined to the artifacts we recover ¨C those we¡¯ve not found much sense in hoarding. That our researchers strive to adapt them is no small ambition. Perhaps in due time these outlets will grow more useful.¡±

    Warren brought them to the kitchen next. ¡°Here, if you would, one such artifact.¡± He lifted a sleek metal box resting by a stove. ¡°An authentic contraption of Istraynian make ¨C prized, assuredly.¡±

    ¡°Is that¡­¡± Miles squinted. ¡°A toaster?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Warren said with a small smile. ¡°Merely a device for toasting bread, but an artifact of rare pedigree nonetheless. Perhaps not as grand as its reputation suggests, but¡­ serviceable, I trust.¡±

    Cole had to suppress a grin. Here they were, standing in one of the pinnacles of aristocracy, and Warren was proudly showing off a toaster like he¡¯d spent all his caps just to get it. Though considering it was probably hundreds of years old and still working perfectly, maybe that pride wasn¡¯t entirely misplaced.

    They continued through the rest of the house, finding more pleasant surprises with each room. The living spaces were open and bright, with tall windows and that contemporary almost-modern feel. Even the formal areas managed to feel comfortable rather than stuffy. The bedrooms were generous without being excessive, each with its own ¡®modern¡¯ amenities like magic temperature control. The workshop space attached to the garage was neat as well ¨C probably meant for hired craftsmen, but Cole could already see how well it would serve their needs.

    The team had grown quieter as the tour went on ¨C not from disappointment, but because they¡¯d stopped looking for reasons to say no. This place managed to thread the needle perfectly: impressive enough for their new station without drowning in aristocratic excess. This was it.

    ¡°Well,¡± Cole said, ¡°Unless anyone objects¡­¡±

    The unanimous grins were more than sufficient.

    ¡°A sound choice,¡± Warren said. ¡°I shall see to it that your belongings are conveyed from the castle, and that someone is sent to pick up Sergeant MacPherson.¡± He reached into his coat and withdrew a folded document. ¡°Your itinerary for the weeks ahead. Now, if you¡¯ll pardon me.¡±

    Cole accepted the document. ¡°Appreciate the tour.¡±

    After the front door closed, Miles plopped onto a nearby couch with a long exhale. ¡°Home sweet home. For real this time, huh?¡±

    Cole looked around the entrance hall, still taking in the space. After everything that had happened in the past month¡­ ¡°Yeah. Guess it is.¡±

    ¡°Should make it a bit more like home then,¡± Mack said, walking over to the grand staircase. He jabbed a finger at the large empty wall space above it. ¡°You know what this is missing? A big fat picture of Mercer, in that goofy ass getup ¨C the one with the top hat, and the uh, the fancy neck ruffle things¡­¡±

    ¡°Cravats,¡± Ethan supplied from near the front door.

    ¡°Wait, why me specifically?¡± Cole asked.

    Mack smirked, as if there couldn¡¯t possibly be any other answer. ¡°Cause you¡¯re the team lead? Every noble mansion¡¯s got it ¨C giant portrait of the head of household looking all important and shit. Usually with some fancy props to show off their status.¡±

    ¡°Like what, my busted AK?¡± Cole snorted. ¡°Or maybe that toaster from the kitchen?¡±

    ¡°Nah man,¡± Mack shook his head. ¡°Gotta be more¡­ dramatic. You standing there all noble-like, demon head mounted on the wall. Or¡­ hey, maybe they¡¯ve got more artifacts laying around. We should check ¡®em out.¡±

    They spent the next hour wandering their new home. The kitchen especially got Miles¡¯ attention; that walk-in cold storage was currently empty, but he was already talking about how much he could fit in there, all the exotic foods he could test out. Eventually they made their way upstairs to check out the bedrooms again, this time with more scrutiny ¨C and to select their personal rooms.

    ¡°Damn,¡± Ethan said as they walked into the master bedroom. He approached the private balcony, checking out the view of the courtyard out front. ¡°This is nice.¡±

    Cole could already see everyone thinking the same thing. Best room in the house, hands down.

    ¡°Dibs,¡± Miles said.

    Cole turned around, eyebrow arched. ¡°What, so you want your picture hanging downstairs instead?¡±

    ¡°Oh, nah. Room¡¯s all yours, chief. See, I¡¯m talking about none other than Lady Kathyra Valise.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t peg you for a goth girl type,¡± Ethan said.

    ¡°Think it¡¯s the other way around with goth girls,¡± Mack snickered.

    ¡°Fuck it. Totally worth it.¡± Cole couldn¡¯t tell if Miles was dead serious, or just fucking around. ¡°Y¡¯all saw her. That voice? That¡­ That charm? Ooowee! Now that¡¯s the kinda woman who knows what she wants.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, to peg you,¡± Ethan snorted. ¡°Next we hear from you, it¡¯s gonna be from the darkest dungeon in her basement.¡±

    Miles rolled his eyes. ¡°Y¡¯all don¡¯t see the vision. Not like I do.¡±

    Cole smirked. He could somewhat see the vision. Despite Mack¡¯s comment, she¡¯d probably earned his approval already. But for Cole? Probably too much for him. Elina, though¡­

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll take this room, then,¡± Cole said.

    They eventually sorted out the rest of the rooms. All of the rooms were plenty big, each with its own character, so there wasn¡¯t much to fight over. Miles took the corner suite since no one seriously objected ¨C probably because it was the furthest from the others. The walls seemed soundproofed so it wasn¡¯t really necessary, but at least the man was considerate.

    It wasn¡¯t until they were back downstairs that Cole remembered the papers Warren had given to him. He pulled out the folded itinerary. Basic integration stuff for the next couple weeks ¨C briefings, policy reviews, equipment maintenance, and so on. But¡­ something near the bottom of the first page caught his eye.

    ¡°Training mission to Nolaren in two weeks,¡± he said.

    ¡°The forward post with the goblin problems?¡± Mack asked, looking over his shoulder. ¡°Could be interesting.¡±

    ¡°Got time to settle, at least,¡± Ethan said. ¡°Get the place running before we head out. Maybe figure out the whole ¡®staff¡¯ situation Warren was talking about.¡±

    ¡°And commission that portrait,¡± Mack added with a grin.

    Cole shook his head. ¡°Yeah, fuck no.¡±

 Chapter 20: Altered Purpose

    Two weeks passed like a breeze in the trance of newfound freedom. Their magical studies deepened under Lady Verna, who made regular trips from the castle to OTAC. Individual talents began to show ¨C and so did the hard limits of projection magic. A spell that could melt steel at point-blank range diffused to barely singe wood at fifty meters. No wonder people resorted to throwing fireballs instead of spawning them next to their targets.

    Their work with barriers proved more promising. Simple shields evolved into persistent constructs that held without constant attention, though the initial mana cost made them think twice about duration. The possibilities were obvious: temporary platforms, personal shields, instant fortifications. Not ideal for sustained operations, of course. Earth magic could accomplish the same feats at a fraction of the mana cost. But when the situation called for subtlety over efficiency, barriers had their place.

    Their enhancement magic had moved past brute-force applications as they learned to target muscle groups rather than relying on wholesale reinforcement. They all moved like anime characters now, but Miles had taken to it with particular enthusiasm. Honestly, he probably just wanted to throw hands with demons. Not the optimal approach, but after that ambush on day one¡­ Cole could see the appeal.

    As for Mack, he¡¯d made a full recovery. Better than full, actually. His mana rating had stabilized at Level 18 after last week¡¯s test ¨C a solid six levels above Cole''s capacity. Moving into the house seemed to have done him good as well. No lingering effects from the coma, no complications from his physical rehab, which turned out just as he¡¯d expected.

    Just the same old Mack, now with an apparently permanent boost to his magical potential. Whether the gap represented his natural ceiling or if it was just some quirk of recovery... well. Cole was happy for him nonetheless.

    It seemed like Mack would be one-upping them on everything for the foreseeable future, until Ethan found his niche in glyph design. Most students could pick up the individual runes easily, but not the architecture. For Cole, arranging runes inside a glyph was like writing code. But Ethan?

    He must¡¯ve seen them differently, given how naturally he took to chaining the runes together. Within days he was laying out sequences that made Lady Verna question his sanity. Then again, most sane people wouldn¡¯t choose to deal with bombs for a living.

    Then came the classroom content. OTAC''s classification system divided demons into two broad categories: humanoids and monsters. Humanoids posed the greatest strategic threat ¨C from the lowly imps all the way up to the dreaded Archfiends. Each type had its own Level rating, though Cole had noticed the instructors seemed hesitant to discuss the upper bounds. Goblins averaged around Level 5, while standard orcs operated at Level 10. The Mimic that had infiltrated OTAC as a Slayer Captain had tested at Level 13 before being discovered.

    Monster-types like the Nevskors followed similar conventions, though their Level 10 rating meant something different than an orc¡¯s. They traded versatility for raw physical power ¨C a Nevskor could shrug off hits that would flatten an orc, but they were predictable, bound by instinct. A higher level humanoid typically meant more adaptability. A higher level monster, on the other hand, would just be a stronger version of its base nature.

    Like any classification system, this one showed its cracks. Levels were rough approximations at best, measuring everything from raw power to tactical ability. Their instructors hammered this point home: a well-prepared Level 3 Army artilleryman with the right tools could absolutely take down a Level 12 threat. But the real danger came at the higher tiers, where no amount of preparation could bridge the gap. Historical records painted a clear picture: only summoned heroes had ever stood against Demon Lords.

    The more mundane ¨C yet equally important ¨C lessons filled the gaps between theory and practice. Weapon maintenance, equipment checks, proper crystal cycling procedures, operating a revolver, wielding a cutlass, horse riding. All drilled into them until finally, they¡¯d gathered for their first training mission ¨C and an introduction to their newest member.

    When OTAC had requested Elina Gracer for their unit, Cole figured they just wanted their best healer watching over their new heroes. Then he¡¯d seen the look Warren gave her ¨C not the polite deference he¡¯d probably use with a family doctor, but the subtle nod shared between veterans. Their sweet elven doctor turned out to be a Slayer Elite with a Level 16 mana rating ¨C one of the youngest in Celdorne¡¯s history.

    Not that Cole would have ever guessed that. The signs did eventually show themselves, though ¨C namely how she held a rifle like it was normal.

    Still, Ethan had doubts about a new member. Fresh dynamics, unknown variable. Fair enough, but Mack¡¯s talents didn¡¯t include healing magic yet, and Cole had seen enough to know that magic changed the old rules. Besides, Cole had seen enough anime to know the score ¨C not as much as Mack, of course, but enough nonetheless. Every solid party needed a good healer.

    Standing at a train station now, watching the cargo being loaded, Cole realized having Elina would be good for another reason: they didn''t know shit about Celdorne beyond Alexandria¡¯s walls.

    The train horn billowed.

    ¡°Two day trip just to get there, huh?¡± Miles asked, following Warren past the line of passengers waiting by the platform¡¯s nullification checkpoints.

    Cole shouldered his pack and grabbed his luggage. Their electronics still worked fine thanks to their solar chargers and spare batteries, but their options were limited. Having radios for themselves wouldn¡¯t be very useful if they needed to call in artillery support or request reinforcements.

    The goth elf researcher had picked up on that gap right away. Lady Kathyra had been diplomatic about it, floating the idea of studying their gear after this first mission. No pressure, just an open invitation to share what they thought might help.

    Hell, Celdorne wasn''t far off from figuring out radio tech on their own, though the Scrying Panes probably pushed back any real need for it. Their electrical theory was solid. Within a year they could probably be fielding radios for all of OTAC and Army support units. Tantalizing, but there were also other insights they could give Kathyra.

    Better bullets and new bullet types, for one. FMJ, hollow point, tracers, maybe even armor piercing and frangible sometime down the line. Their metallurgy and industrial capacity was already there, based on what he¡¯d seen in Alexandria and in OTAC¡¯s arsenal. They just needed the right designs.

    Grenades were trickier. Enhanced fireballs already packed more punch than any conventional frag, and his and Mack¡¯s modernized version had only widened that gap. But there was potential there; he¡¯d seen how they worked runes into equipment. Just how far could they upgrade frags and flashbangs and other types of gear with runes?

    Of course, some advances would take longer than others, but they weren¡¯t starting from scratch here. Between the four of them, they knew their gear inside and out ¨C maintenance, manufacturing tolerances, material specs, everything down to the fundamental scientific principles. That¡¯d cut years off their research time. No stabbing in the dark when they¡¯ve got the finished product and the expertise to explain why each design choice matters. Hell, they could hand Kathyra¡¯s team decades of ballistics research and metallurgy on a silver platter, complete with the physics behind why it all works.

    Two days on a train. A full week for their mission in total. Plenty of time to figure out where to start.

    ¡°We¡¯re not riding coach?¡± Cole asked.

    ¡°Hardly. Our station affords us better than that.¡± Warren led them toward a set of cars at the far end of the train.

    A second set of nullification arches waited there. Cole stepped through, that uncomfortable compression washing over him. No matter how many times he went through these things, he¡¯d never get used to it. But after that ambush at the castle, he wasn¡¯t complaining.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    The steward checked their tickets and directed them to their assigned compartment. The private car was exactly what Cole would expect for nobility ¨C plush armchairs, some window-facing seats, a small couch near the sleeping berth entrance, and a central table with booth seating for dining. Warren stowed his bag and excused himself to check on something with the conductor, leaving them to settle in.

    Miles immediately sprawled into one of the plush armchairs. ¡°Damn. Straight outta Orient Express.¡±

    ¡°Minus the murder mystery, hopefully,¡± Mack said, settling by the window.

    ¡°That¡¯s what the nullification fields are for,¡± Cole said. He chose a spot on the small couch near the sleeping berth entrance. After stowing her equipment, Elina joined him.

    ¡°Comfort suits you well. It is a pity our destination cannot promise such ease,¡± she remarked, tucking a strand of silver-blonde hair behind her ear.

    ¡°All the more reason to appreciate it now,¡± he said, offering her a smile. ¡°No light without darkness, right?¡±

    Elina chuckled softly. ¡°True enough ¨C if we¡¯re to treasure the light, we might as well wring every ounce of comfort from it while we may.¡± She glanced toward the miniature bedrooms, then back at Cole. ¡°Perhaps this train was meant as a farewell gift from civility itself.¡±

    Cole recognized the sentiment all too well. It was steak and lobster all over again.¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve done this before. Saying goodbye to civility, I mean.¡±

    ¡°Once.¡± The way her voice shifted into pure melodrama almost made him grin. ¡°And let me tell you, it is no small cruelty to be pampered so thoroughly, only to have it all snatched away. Betrayal, truly. Had they any mercy at all, they might have sent us straight into the dust and heat. But no, let us first be spoiled and then cast to the wolves. Why, I¡¯ve not seen even the demons stoop this low.¡±

    He couldn''t help but enjoy her commitment to the bit. ¡°So, betrayal by upholstery, is it? I¡¯d hate to see how you describe the real enemy out there.¡±

    ¡°Oh, the demons will have to work very hard to surpass this treachery.¡±

    Cole chuckled. ¡°C¡¯mon, the adjustment¡¯s not that bad.¡±

    ¡°Oh my, to say such a thing before a lady.¡± Elina met him with a raised brow and the faintest smirk. ¡°I might think you¡¯ve forgotten yourself entirely.¡±

    Shit ¨C a faux pas. He may as well have asked her to pay on the first date. Cole raised his hands, feigning innocence. ¡°My apologies, Doctor. But to be fair, you are a Slayer Elite.¡±

    ¡°Which is to say, I possessed the wit to avoid such assignments hitherto.¡± She sighed, ¡°Though, as you see, fortune has conspired otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, some conspiracy of fortune indeed,¡± Cole smirked. ¡°Truly crazy how they¡¯re putting their best healer exactly where they need her.¡±

    She gave a light laugh. ¡°Oh, very good. Yes, I suppose they wouldn¡¯t dare let their precious heroes stumble so soon. One must ensure the tales match the¡­ substance. And¡­ you¡¯ve certainly provided that.¡±

    Elina hesitated at the end there, holding his gaze a moment longer before looking away. For someone who¡¯d been assigned to babysit them, she seemed awfully eager about the whole thing. Then again, everyone had their reasons for fighting ¨C doubly so when demons were involved. Could be revenge, could be glory, could be duty. Hell, maybe she just thought it was cool to work with a party of heroes; Tenria had tons of those stored away in various libraries and children¡¯s books. Or maybe her interest was more specific than that, given how she¡¯d emphasized ¡®substance.¡¯ But until he could get to know her better, there was simply no way of knowing yet.

    The train lurched forward, and Alexandria began to fade behind them. It rolled through familiar territory at first: past their neighborhood, past OTAC, past the military installations they¡¯d gotten used to seeing on their daily commute. As they approached the Final Line, those massive towers finally came into proper perspective. Cole had seen them plenty of times from OTAC, but up close? The gun emplacements were enormous; each one looked like it belonged on an Iowa-class battleship.

    Warren came back with their timeline mapped out as they emerged on the other side of the Final Line. Apparently, they¡¯d arrive at Nolaren by sunset the day after tomorrow, weather permitting. The route followed the coast for most of the run, which meant predictable conditions unless a storm rolled in off the sea.

    They passed by more farmland before a steward arrived to take lunch orders, and Cole let the others go first while he studied the menu. Elina had gone off about their pheasant ¨C a dish seldom served without descending into something resembling a tanner¡¯s craft, as she put it. Yet somehow, the chefs here always pulled through, as expected for a railroad company that was apparently famous among the nobility. Naturally, they had to give it a try.

    The food arrived around an hour later, and just like with the Michelin Star-quality dishes from the castle, the stuff here would probably be enough to make Gordon Ramsay cry tears of joy.

    The meal passed with idle chatter focusing on Mack¡¯s recovery, and Cole found himself drawn to the window more and more as they rolled deeper into Celdorne proper. The landscape wasn¡¯t all that different from what he¡¯d expect back home ¨C clusters of cities surrounded by sprawling villages and towns, connected by highways and rail lines. Just trade the fast food restaurants and Walmarts for that Victorian architecture they seemed to love so much.

    Most of the journey was dedicated to studying, and he ended up sharing a booth with Elina during their reading sessions.

    The historical records were the real eye-opener. Comparing texts from the 4th and 6th incursions showed the first documented cases of demon evolution ¨C Nevskors trading their simple scales for that compound lamellar armor they used now. And that was just the physical adaptation. Their tactics evolved exponentially faster. Most incursions featured straight-up charges until the 6th incursion just a century ago. Now, apparently, they were infiltrating humanity¡¯s civilizations.

    Warren mostly kept to himself during these sessions, occasionally offering context but generally absorbed in his own documents. Elina proved more engaging company, especially when the conversation turned to experimental magic. She¡¯d graduated top of her class at Celdor University with a thesis on regeneration magic.

    Apparently, aggressive regeneration ¨C particularly from amateur healers ¨C often led to tumors. The best healers could regenerate entire limbs without complications, but nobody really understood why less skilled attempts went wrong. Until Elina started experimenting on captured lesser fiends, deliberately manipulating healing magic in different ways to see what caused the mutations.

    Her story sounded about as fucked up as Cole could imagine. It was pure Unit 731 type shit; research gained only through abominable trial and error, pushing magic in ways it was never meant to go. It was hard to feel bad about it when demons were involved, but still ¨C there was something unsettling about how cheerfully she discussed weaponizing cancer research. Then again, he couldn¡¯t really argue with the results. And neither could Mack, who¡¯d been patched up with that same expertise when they first arrived. Good thing she¡¯d worked out the kinks on demons first.

    Between Elina¡¯s casual discussion of demon vivisection and Mack¡¯s disturbingly practical questions about using regeneration for growing new limbs, Cole was starting to wonder if this world was getting to all of them. At least they¡¯d get to test these theories soon enough; the train was already slowing for their approach to Veloren, the last major city before the First Line.

    They¡¯d figured Veloren would be more military-focused than Alexandria, but damn. The whole city was basically one giant supply depot with a town attached. It was just warehouses, factories, and enough railway infrastructure to make Norfolk Southern jealous.

    The OTAC shuttle waiting for them at the station looked exactly like the ones back home ¨C well, back in Alexandria, anyway. The route to the First Line painted a clearer picture of what they were up against. Demon corpses littered the plain grassy fields: mostly low-level imps and goblins nobody bothered to clear or harvest, rotting where they fell. Celdornian cavalry ran regular patrols between a network of trenches and earthwork fortifications. He¡¯d have thought this would be more like the Korean DMZ, but no ¨C this was more like No Man¡¯s Land.

    Nolaren turned out to be just another cog in the machine, one of dozens of forward posts maintaining the perimeter. It adopted a star-shaped design, with outer walls at least 50 feet high and a water-filled moat sourced from a nearby river. It seemed like overkill, until Cole remembered the possibility of tunneling demons. The whole structure was carved with glyphs, some of them blaring red.

    The gate guard snapped to attention as they pulled up and exited the shuttle. ¡°Sir! Your arrival is most welcome. Your presence is required urgently.¡±

    Warren glanced at the stamped metal badge on the man¡¯s chest. ¡°What¡¯s the situation, corporal?¡±

    ¡°One of our patrols is overdue, sir. No flare,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°Captain Lorresh requests you at operations immediately.¡±

    Warren frowned, but gave a nod. ¡°Lead us to him.¡± He turned to Cole and the others. ¡°It seems our purpose here has changed. This is no longer a mere training mission. Prepare yourselves.¡±

 Chapter 21: Rescue

    They drove through Nolaren¡¯s gates, coming upon an operation that was clearly running lean. The fort looked sized for about two companies, but from the activity level and the scattered patrols, they were operating with maybe one. Celdorne might¡¯ve had the GDP per capita, but trying to hold a defensive line this long with pure Celdornian manpower was like the British Empire trying to hold India without local auxiliaries. The Kingdom couldn¡¯t afford to leave any gaps against the demons, so they¡¯d chosen to spread themselves paper-thin instead.

    The layout showed competence, at least. Clear fields of fire from the walls, buildings spaced to mitigate collateral damage, and towers manned just enough to maintain the illusion of adequate security. Two-story barracks, mess hall, infirmary, ammo storage ¨C all the essential pieces were there as well. Pity about the manpower shortage rendering it all mostly unused.

    Their vehicle pulled up to the command center, a squat stone building dominating the fort¡¯s center. Naturally, it was the only fully-staffed facility in sight. Heaven forbid they cut corners on the one thing that might keep this house of cards from collapsing.

    The Corporal led them to the command post. A towering minotaur stood at the map table, shoulders squared in a way that seemed out of place for a border fort that usually just counted goblin raids. His brigandine armor was spotless, every rivet catching the light as if he¡¯d just marched out of a parade ground in Alexandria.

    ¡°Sir!¡± The Corporal stepped ahead to announce them. ¡°Sir Warren and the Heroes have arrived.¡±

    ¡°Sir Warren.¡± He offered a slight bow. ¡°Thank you, Corporal. That will be all.¡±

    Warren introduced them. ¡°Captain, may I present our Heroes, Sir Cole and his team of Slayers.¡±

    ¡°Most fortunate timing, gentlemen. I am Captain Lorresh, commanding officer of this post.¡± Lorresh¡¯s cultured tone didn¡¯t quite mask the urgency as he indicated the map. ¡°We¡¯ve a patrol overdue ¨C six men under Sergeant Vanner. Their last green flare originated here, thirty minutes ago.¡± He gestured to where a forest met a river, about 10 miles deeper into demon territory. ¡°They were due to report a quarter hour ago.¡±

    ¡°Demon forces?¡± Warren asked.

    ¡°Merely the usual weekly unpleasantness. A goblin company of perhaps sixty, led by an orc.¡± Lorresh¡¯s composure slipped slightly as he gave a sigh. ¡°Nothing our patrols have not handled previously. And certainly nothing that would prevent the raising of a flare were they to encounter difficulty.¡±

    Cole frowned. A dead man could trigger a flare if he was propped up right. That they couldn¡¯t even manage to do that? Well, hopefully they were just fucking around ¨C untrained recruits who¡¯d just forgotten the time. If not? Then there was something far worse than goblins and orcs out there.

    ¡°I understand that you are here for a training exercise,¡± Lorresh continued. ¡°This is by no means the sort of exercise we had envisioned¡­ but it may, perhaps, prove of greater practical value than any planned drill. Sir Warren, your thoughts on the matter?¡±

    More useful than any planned drill? Pfft. Lorresh was clearly just trying to pawn this off on them. Cole couldn¡¯t really blame him, though. Tactical reasoning aside, he wasn¡¯t wrong; and they¡¯d been itching to test their new skills and equipment anyway.

    Warren didn¡¯t even need time to think. ¡°A sound plan. If it is to be a trial by fire, then I shall lead the effort,¡± he said. ¡°We shall require our shuttle refueled at once, and¡­ hm¡­ six of your men¨C mounted and ready.¡±

    ¡°Consider it done, Sir Warren.¡± Lorresh nodded toward some aides, who left to carry out the orders. He then turned to address them. ¡°I trust you¡¯ll find our armory sufficient should you require additional supplies.¡±

    ¡°Appreciate it,¡± Cole said.

    ¡°Let us see to our own preparations.¡± Warren gave Lorresh a nod before heading out.

    The shuttle waited by the supply depot, their little base of operations for this search and rescue mission. Cole popped the rear compartment, taking stock of their load-out. Standard deployment package ¨C armor, weapons, enough ammo to make things interesting if they needed to, plus the usual food and water. Not exactly what they¡¯d packed for when ¡®training exercise¡¯ was still on the menu, but hell, ten miles out wasn¡¯t the end of the world. There was still the off chance they¡¯d find these guys on their way back to Nolaren.

    Cole found a clear spot near the shuttle and channeled a bit of mana downward. The earth responded easily, rising to form a simple waist-high platform to lay his kit out on.

    First was the standard issue brigandine for Slayer Elites ¨C a nice step up from normal OTAC gear, though not quite the premium stuff the Royal Guard packed. When he first wore these, he¡¯d expected them to be bulky as shit, but magic materials and enchantments rendered that a relatively moot concern. His Adaptive Vest System from back home fit well over his armor. Even without the bulky ass level 4 ESAPI plates, the familiar setup of pouches was exactly what he needed.

    It didn¡¯t have all the familiar equipment, but he¡¯d made efficient enough use of the remaining space. Small green vials ¨C health potions ¨C complemented what was left of his IFAK and added to Mack¡¯s advanced kit. The lack of grenades and tactical gear made space for something equally important: mana potions. Cole had seen enough anime and played enough Dungeons and Dragons to prepare accordingly.

    He moved to his weapons next. The Vicer 95E was familiar territory by now ¨C same enchanted rifle they¡¯d tested back at the castle, complete with all the elemental bells and whistles. He ran through his usual checks. Selectors were working fine and the mana crystal had a full charge. All normal and familiar.

    The sidearm was another story. Some long-ass name he couldn¡¯t be bothered to remember, but the design of the revolver? Shit, it was a beautiful recreation of Colt¡¯s work with the Peacemaker. The late Alexander must¡¯ve been a gun enthusiast, saving up his blueprints and ideas for his descendants to mess around with when the tech became available.

    They hadn¡¯t just copied it, though. It had simple runes carved into both the barrel and cylinder, designed to smoothen operation and extend lifespan. The action was butter-smooth too, cycling faster and smoother than any historical Peacemaker he¡¯d handled back home. Nothing fancy like the Vicer¡¯s elemental modes, but these things packed a hell of a punch ¨C enough to break anyone¡¯s wrist if it weren¡¯t for the existence of physical enhancement magic.

    The only thing Cole wasn¡¯t really used to was the Pattern 692E cutlass. Felt a bit like LARPing sometimes, but definitely better than trying to take down demons with a KABAR. The mithril-alloy blade was almost weightless, and the enhancement runes meant it could cut through a thousand goblins without dulling. And¡­ he wouldn¡¯t outwardly admit this to anyone, but swinging it was fun as hell. A nice little bonus on top of essential swordsmanship training.

    Last piece was his Ops Core helmet, complete with the AMP headset.

    ¡°It seems your helm spares no thought for your face,¡± Elina said, studying Cole¡¯s gear. ¡°Do you mean to frighten the fiends with your glare alone, or do you simply trust they¡¯ll aim elsewhere?¡±

    ¡°Hah, they¡¯ll be dead before they get in range,¡± Cole said. ¡°But no, these-¡± he tapped the headset, ¡°-outweigh protection, in my opinion. Radios. Er, uh... Scrying Panes with the audio only. It can talk to another one of these across a few miles.¡±

    ¡°Hm.¡± Warren finished packing his equipment and walked over to join the fuss. ¡°We have sought for some time a means to supplant the glaring flares and the rare Panes ¡ª burdensome as they are. Such a device, if replicable, may prove a boon to the Kingdom.¡±

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    ¡°Actually,¡± Cole said, adjusting his helmet, ¡°we talked with Lady Kathyra about that. We¡¯re thinking we can share some insights when we get back. Not just the comms; we could help with firearms, starting with better bullets. Decent metallurgy; just need the designs. Maybe even work some runes into grenades, see how that plays out. Could write up a whole list, but she wanted one thing to focus on; help get whatever we pick on the field as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°Wise. And no doubt Lady Kathyra has already seen to making her will plain,¡± Warren said.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Yeah, well, she did seem the most interested in our guns.¡± Cole looked up at the sound of hooves on earth as six riders approached them.

    ¡°A fine enough choice,¡± Warren shrugged, shoulders sagging slightly at that. ¡°I would have preferred these ¡®radios¡¯ myself, but I suppose it shall suffice.¡± He turned as the patrol¡¯s leader drew his horse to a halt.

    ¡°Sergeant Dalen reporting with the requested escort, sir,¡± the man said, offering a crisp salute.

    Warren boarded the shuttle, taking the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Then let us make haste.¡±

    Dalen took up their rear. ¡°Private Nash, you shall take the lead. The rest, disperse and maintain your stations.¡±

    Cole and the rest of his team followed after Warren as the mounted escort formed up. Once everyone was strapped in, they drove past the gate, turning onto the dirt road that paralleled the river.

    Even from the road, the demon corpses showed just how much firepower Celdorne was packing. If Vicers could tear through those armored Mimics back at the castle, these goblins didn¡¯t stand a chance. Whatever remained of them spread out as chunks of meat scattered across the grass. The real fights were marked by craters and scorched earth, but those battlefields were picked clean. No bodies meant something worth collecting had died there ¨C the kind of demons that earned a trip to Sektarr¡¯s lab or one of the many smiths in the Kingdom.

    Once they reached the edge of the forest, Private Nash raised his fist ahead of them. Warren brought them to a stop as the rest of the mounted escort secured the perimeter.

    ¡°Fresh tracks, sir,¡± Nash called out, gesturing toward a spot near the water. ¡°They stopped here. Leads to the treeline.¡±

    Cole disembarked, studying the ground alongside Miles and Warren. They decided to follow it, leaving half of Dalen¡¯s men behind to watch over the shuttle. The trail was easy enough to follow, bringing them to a clearing populated with a set of benches made by earth magic. They had stopped to rest here, but it seemed their break was short lived.

    Some of the benches lay shattered, the earth violently displaced like something massive had erupted from below. The ground around these points was unnaturally disturbed, the soil looking almost melted in places. Long furrows stretched out from the eruption points, and Cole could see where sections of earth had partially collapsed into whatever tunnels lay beneath.

    ¡°The hell?¡± Cole kept his rifle at the ready, kneeling down for a closer look. The disturbed ground formed a rough semicircle around where the patrol¡¯s tracks suddenly scattered. Dark stains marked the grass near one of the larger eruption points ¨C their first casualty, caught in the initial surge.

    ¡°Got brass over here,¡± Mack called out, moving near the stain. Equipment was scattered around a singular ejected casing. He picked up one of several discarded mana crystals that were still glowing bright blue. ¡°Barely used. Poor guy didn¡¯t even get a chance to put up a fight.¡±

    ¡°Surely not the work of a goblin company,¡± Elina muttered, pausing to utter a small prayer and make the sign of the cross over the stain.

    The group followed her gesture before Warren redirected his attention to a set of claw marks on a nearby tree. The foliage nearby was charred, probably from the guy who managed to avoid that swipe. ¡°It is the work of a Nevskor.¡±

    Nash paused further away from them, studying the other signs of battle. ¡°The casings trail into the forest. A fighting retreat.¡±

    ¡°Only four sets of prints though¡­¡± Miles noticed.

    Cole raised an eyebrow. ¡°Maybe one of them got lucky, took a leak during their break?¡± It was possible, though he knew it seemed more hopeful than realistic.

    They followed the retreat path deeper into the woods, weapons combat ready. They came across a small clearing that had basically been incinerated. No evidence of any losses here, though. The bootprints kept going.

    ¡°More blood,¡± Ethan reported as they found another eruption point.

    Miles pointed out a detail somehow grimmer than the gore: the ground here was littered with scattered, melting ice. ¡°Well, shit. Ain¡¯t Nevskors s¡¯posed to fold to fire?¡±

    Cole frowned. ¡°Should be.¡±

    ¡°This specimen may have evolved,¡± Warren grumbled. ¡°It may prove a challenge, should we encounter it.¡±

    Vanner¡¯s group must¡¯ve reached the same conclusion. The spacing of the bootprints suggested a complete breakdown of formation ¨C panic. They¡¯d sprinted as fast as possible, at least sparing what effort they could to fire back. But past that semblance of teamwork, it was every man for himself.

    The third site painted an even clearer picture. The surviving patrol had tried fortifying the ground with small pillars ¨C bollards. Smart thinking, if the Nevskor were a Fiat instead of a hulking truck. They¡¯d managed to land some good hits though, based on the shards of chitin and the darker, purplish blood. But it had been too late for the third victim. The Nevskor must¡¯ve retreated, leaving a mixed trail of blood disappearing into the soil.

    ¡°Three down¡­¡± Cole muttered as Elina offered another prayer.

    The forest began to thin as they continued following the trail. The area was now dotted with weathered rock outcroppings, and directly ahead of them, a cave. More importantly, this was hard ground. Props to whoever came up with that plan.

    Another hole sat in front, this time with only chitin and purple blood surrounding it. Another set of bootprints came from the side, but spaced out for a walk ¨C the sixth man? That should mean three survivors inside. Every loss was always a crushing defeat, but Cole could at least rejoice that there were any survivors at all.

    Warren approached the cave entrance, summoning small orbs of light and sending them inside.

    As soon as they entered, a voice called out from somewhere within:

    ¡°We shall fear no evil!¡±

    Warren answered the challenge confidently, ¡°For the Lord is with us!¡±

    Three figures emerged into the light. Two of them were battered and bruised, but the third was in mint condition ¨C probably the lucky straggler who¡¯d taken that hypothetical piss break.

    ¡°Sergeant Vanner, Third Patrol, Nolaren.¡± The man in the middle approached them, clutching his side. ¡°Thank God you found us!¡±

    Warren kept his weapon steady as he approached. ¡°Hold, Sergeant. Report.¡±

    Vanner stopped, keeping his distance. ¡°Got ambushed by a Nevskor variant. Damned thing wouldn¡¯t burn. Kellam¡¯s gone, first hit. Flares gone with him. Davies after, then¡­¡± Vanner¡¯s voice cracked. ¡°Bremen. Couldn¡¯t do a thing. Private Tellis and I, we took a few knocks, but we¡¯ll mend. And Gadron?¡± He tilted his head toward the corporal on his right. ¡°Why, he was fortunate enough to heed his bladder¡¯s urges ¨C left then, right afore that blasted Nevskor struck. Seems he came upon our trail some time after; met us in one piece, thank God.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Sergeant Dalen, if you would?¡± Warren gave him a nod then kept his rifle low ready, aiming in Vanner¡¯s general direction.

    Sergeant Dalen approached, stopping about five meters from Vanner. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped through the pages. ¡°Sergeant Vanner, your basic training cohort?¡±

    ¡°Third Company, Winter Intake, 651.¡±

    Dalen squinted at his notebook before confirming the answer. ¡°Your mother¡¯s place of birth?¡±

    ¡°Elnoir Republic.¡±

    Dalen had him approach, then poked his fingertip with a clean blade. Red, human blood oozed out. Confirming that Vanner was indeed who he claimed to be, Dalen sent him toward Elina.

    He moved onto Tellis next ¨C same results. Then he worked through Gadron¡¯s security questions. Everything checked out; the guy answered his questions right and bled just as red as anyone else. It should¡¯ve been enough to put this to bed, but Elina didn¡¯t look convinced.

    After clearing Gadron, she made her way over. ¡°Something¡¯s¡­ amiss about him,¡± she whispered. ¡°His mana, perhaps. I can¡¯t rightly say what it is.¡±

    Cole didn¡¯t know enough about mana to confirm anything, but he¡¯d learned to trust his teammates¡¯ instincts. He waved his team over. ¡°We¡¯ll keep an eye on him. For now, let¡¯s just get outta here before we run into that Nevskor.

    ¡°We shall return to Nolaren and deliver our report,¡± Warren said. ¡°Let the recovery teams see to the fallen once the area is secured.¡±

    They walked back to the river without incident, boarding the shuttle.

    Gadron sat unnaturally still, staring off into the void. Could be shell shock, could be survivor¡¯s guilt ¨C Cole had seen both often enough. There was definitely something off with him. His gut might not have any clues, but Elina did, and that was enough.

 Chapter 22: No Man Left Behind

    The gates groaned open at their approach. Throughout the whole trip, Cole had kept an eye on Gadron¡¯s reflection in the mirror. And hell, watching him breathe was like seeing a robot following a field manual on human respiration. Inhale, hold, exhale, all timed like a metronome ¨C like he was forcing himself to do it. Even his blinking had that same mechanical bullshit going on.

    He¡¯d seen a lot of different reactions to combat stress, but none of them came close to this.

    A medical team stood waiting by the gate as they pulled up to a stop. One of them stepped forward to meet Dalen.

    ¡°Sergeant Dalen,¡± the lead medic called out, ¡°any injuries?¡±

    Dalen shook his head, nodding toward Elina. ¡°The Slayer healer rendered her aid. Best to have them seen again, though.¡±

    The medics moved to help Vanner and Tellis down from the shuttle, offering them potions to recover their energy and stamina. Both men were steady enough on their feet, but looked ready to sleep for a day.

    One of the medics approached Gadron as he dismounted, but the man just waved him away. ¡°I¡¯m quite alright,¡± he said.

    Cole watched the Corporal¡¯s mechanical breathing. What a brilliant conversation that would be ¨C pulling aside a medic to report suspicious breathing while the guy was literally counting breaths right there.

    Better to approach this with subtlety. ¡°Hey.¡± Cole flagged one of the medics. ¡°Corporal¡¯s probably got some sort of uh¡­ survivor¡¯s guilt. Might wanna have someone evaluate him.¡±

    The medic nodded, making a note. Good enough.

    As the medic led Gadron away, a runner came up from the direction of the command center. ¡°Sir Warren? Captain Lorresh requests your report on the missing patrol.¡±

    The team followed Warren through the fort¡¯s central pathway to the command center.

    Lorresh stood at his map table. ¡°Sir Warren. What happened to my men?¡±

    ¡°Three dead ¨C Kellam, Davies, Bremen. Struck down in an ambush by a Nevskor variant. Their flames were of little use. The others survived with little injury; it seemed their rifles and wit availed them in the end.¡±

    Lorresh frowned. ¡°A Nevskor variant¡­¡±

    ¡°Level 12, I suspect.¡± Warren proceeded to explain the details they¡¯d pieced together.

    He got to his speculation about the Nevskor¡¯s burrowing ability against hard, rocky ground when a communications officer shot up from his scrying pane station. ¡°My lords! Research Post Kidry is under assault! They¡¯re on the pane.¡±

    Warren and Lorresh turned toward the officer. A harried-looking lieutenant appeared on the glowing Scrying Pane behind him, a hole in the wall of their command structure.

    ¡°Captain Lorresh ¨C¡± The lieutenant¡¯s eyes locked onto Warren¡¯s face. ¡°And Sir Warren! Thank God.¡± The naked relief in his voice was painful to hear.

    Composing himself, he continued. ¡°We¡¯ve just contained a mutiny among our troops. Ten of our own¡­ They sabotaged our cannons and turned ¨C¡±

    A soldier burst into view behind the lieutenant. ¡°They¡¯re upon us! A company of goblins and three Nevskors! By God, one of them is massive! They¡¯re charging the bridge!¡±

    ¡°Sir!¡± Another soldier appeared. ¡°We can¡¯t hold without the field guns. What are our orders?¡±

    Someone else shouted from offscreen: ¡°Flames don¡¯t work! The Nevskors ¨C our fire magic does nothing!¡±

    The lieutenant turned back to the Pane as chaos reigned in the background. ¡°Captain, we require reinforcements at once ¨C the field guns from your armory. Just two will suffice. We¡¯ve three Istraynian relics in storage, along with a month¡¯s yield of research from the wastes. Should we fall ¨C¡±

    ¡°Your current forces?¡± Lorresh cut in.

    ¡°Forty-three combat-ready after the mutiny. Five combat mages.¡± The lieutenant hesitated, then apparently decided on his argument. ¡°Sir, we cannot lose these artifacts to the demons.¡±

    Lorresh hesitated. But for what? The math wasn¡¯t anything crazy like differential equations ¨C Kidry sat 12 miles away, 30 minutes at most. That kind of call should¡¯ve taken a second to make.

    But no, here they were, watching an inexperienced commander agonize over whether to send help to those who might be dying right now. Thirty minutes. That¡¯s all it would take. Fucking leadership paralysis.

    After a good twenty seconds of thought, Lorresh¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Dispatch a small party to evacuate the research staff and artifacts. The rest must delay, grant them time to withdraw.¡±

    ¡°Wha- Captain, I can¡¯t! That would be¡­ utter folly. I cannot, in good conscience, consign my men to such a fate, not when an alternative solution is readily accomplished,¡± the lieutenant rebutted, glancing at Cole¡¯s team. ¡°The Slayers, along with two field guns. This is all I request of you. Please, sir.¡±

    ¡°Lieutenant, I¡­¡± Lorresh¡¯s voice faltered. ¡°I understand, truly, but¡­ we cannot ¨C I cannot hazard such a loss¡­¡± He hesitated, struggling for words. Then, he straightened and drew closer to the Pane, standing directly in front of it.

    ¡°We shall endure through that which we preserve.¡± The words lent him steadiness, as if they somehow justified his decision. Real Thermopylae shit there, except Leonidas actually had the balls to die with his men instead of playing armchair commander from a fortress. ¡°Save whom you may, along with the artifacts. May God be with you.¡±

    He tapped a button on the side and the Scrying Pane went dark.

    ¡°The hell?¡± Miles snapped, rightfully so. ¡°You¡¯re just gonna let those boys die? You must be outta your Goddamn mind.¡±

    Lorresh flinched about Miles¡¯ tone. He almost scowled before he composed himself. ¡°I¨C my lords, with respect, command decisions are never¡­¡±

    He straightened, steadying himself with formality, even as his eyes suggested a flash of offense at having his authority questioned. ¡°Every erstwhile rescue attempt has met with failure. The demons, they ¨C our numbers are scarcely sufficient to hold Nolaren.¡±

    Even the asinine higher-ups back home at least had the excuse of geopolitics ¨C a game larger than just the pawns out on the field. As fucked up as it was, denying reinforcements to preserve stability was, frankly, somewhat legitimate. But this? This wasn¡¯t even tragedy anymore, nor some legendary last stand. It was just¡­ farce. Sacrificing good men over shit math. Or worse, over cowardly incompetence ¨C which was the last thing Cole might¡¯ve expected from a minotaur.

    ¡°Explain your math,¡± Cole said.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Lorresh hesitated, caught off guard. Then, his face hardened. ¡°Yes, the math. Forty men hold Kidry against two Nevskors and a company of goblins. Deprived of artillery, they¡­ may yet hold for a time ¨C but I fear not long enough for us to reach them.¡±

    Cole didn¡¯t buy it. Sure, Celdorne couldn¡¯t match the U.S. throwing a battalion at every rescue like back home, but this wasn¡¯t some massive demon invasion either. Just a border raid that happened to work. Nolaren could spare the manpower for this.

    Ethan didn¡¯t seem to buy it either. ¡°How many men do you need to operate those field guns?¡±

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    Lorresh rebounded as if the question had just given him some ammo. ¡°Eight men to a gun, sir. That, however, is not the matter of greatest concern ¨C for not even so few may we spare, lest our defenses falter.¡±

    The guy¡¯s stubbornness was already starting to get under Cole¡¯s skin. ¡°So, just 16 guys. Plus ourselves and a small escort, you¡¯ll still retain well over 70 men here. Your defenses ain¡¯t gonna falter.¡±

    Lorresh shifted uncomfortably. He knew damn well his numbers were fucked. ¡°That¡­ Yes, that may be accurate, but to risk weakening our position¡­¡±

    Cole fought back a scowl, forcing his voice to remain level. ¡°Against what? A goblin raid you just told us your regular patrols handle weekly? C¡¯mon, your kingdom summoned heroes from another world. You¡¯ve got two Slayer Elites standing right here ¨C Sir Warren, Lady Elina.¡±

    The reminder seemed to knock something loose in the Captain¡¯s facade. He kept silent, hesitating. He knew he didn¡¯t have shit to say; no more excuses to fall back on.

    ¡°Fuck it,¡± Mack said, shaking his head. ¡°We got Slayer Elites, don¡¯t we? We got our modernized fireballs, don¡¯t we? Should be enough to handle some Nevskors. We can just go ourselves.¡±

    Miles nodded. ¡°Mhmm. And if something happens to us out there ¨C Lord forbid ¨C ¡®cause you couldn¡¯t spare the damn manpower? Hell, I reckon His Highness ain¡¯t gonna take too kindly to that.¡±

    Lorresh looked to Warren like some fucking bureaucrat hoping his boss would bail him out of a hard call. Warren just stood there, arms crossed, deliberately silent. Good; let him squirm.

    Cole cleared his throat. Time to drive this home. ¡°¡®No man left behind.¡¯ It¡¯s a principle we live by, where I¡¯m from. It means we risk everything to bring our people home, no matter what. But even then, we¡¯ve only ever fought against our fellow man. Here?¡± He raised his hands, addressing the entire room. ¡°Here you¡¯ve taken up an even heavier burden ¨C standing against the dark so no one else has to. It¡¯s a noble cause, don¡¯t get me wrong. A higher calling; a hard duty. But you know what I can¡¯t figure out?¡±

    It was a perfect hypocrisy, the fundamental disconnect between their words and actions. They probably knew it already, but maybe they just needed someone to say the quiet part out loud.

    ¡°The men at Kidry ¨C they stood against that same darkness just as long as you have. They¡¯re out there right now, holding the line. Shielding others from horrors they themselves must bear. Don¡¯t they deserve the same salvation that everyone else gets? What makes their lives worth less than the ones you¡¯re trying to protect?¡±

    Lorresh lowered his head. Shame? Regret? Guilt, that he¡¯d ever thought otherwise? Whatever it was, he finally cracked. ¡°¡®No man left behind.¡¯ Very well. I shall dispatch 30 men with you. Save the men of Kidry.¡±

    He nodded to one of his men. ¡°Have the Second Platoon ready for deployment under Sir Warren¡¯s command. I shall inform Kidry of our decision.¡±

    Lord knew how much time they wasted just trying to convince the man while his fellow Celdornians were out there dying. But at least they¡¯d succeeded, and that alone was a victory worth celebrating.

    Cole walked out, leading his team to their shuttle.

    ¡°You¡¯ve admirable conviction, Lieutenant,¡± Warren said as they walked. ¡°I¡¯d have done the same, though I must caution you ¨C this single, thus far isolated incident affords us the luxury of choice. This is a grace not granted under the fury of full incursion.¡±

    Cole nodded. Celdorne was nowhere near the U.S. in terms of firepower and logistical capabilities. They couldn¡¯t be everywhere at once, nor could they have a crazy advantage in every single engagement they found themselves in. ¡°Yeah, I get it. We¡¯ll have to make the hard call eventually.¡±

    ¡°Were it not for our presence, Captain Lorresh¡¯s decision would have been the correct one to make; he¡¯d have no alternative but to let it fall.¡±

    Ethan walked beside them. ¡°Unless Nolaren were fully staffed. Why¡¯s it running at half capacity, anyway? Something to do with the ¡®colonial defense¡¯ that one wolf guy mentioned, I¡¯m guessing?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Our trading companies, Duke Alvak¡¯s foremost among them, have turned their designs toward distant lands ¨C not for lucre alone, but that we might secure what shall be needful when the demons are upon us. By swelling our coffers now, we may gather strength in due course, that when the true war comes, we shall not be found wanting.¡±

    The logic was simple enough ¨C hell, Cole¡¯s sister used to stomp him with it in strategy games. Snatch up a bunch of bases early, get the economy rolling, and steamroll later. Only worked if the other guy just sat there twiddling his thumbs, though, and he¡¯d learned that real fast.

    Miles took a swig of water as they reached their shuttle. ¡°A fine plan, ain¡¯t gonna lie ¨C ¡®cept this ¡®true war¡¯ of yours ain¡¯t waitin¡¯ on y¡¯all¡¯s schedule.¡±

    ¡°No, it seems not.¡± Warren glanced ahead, where the Second Platoon had organized. ¡°This incursion makes that plain. Two Nevskors, evolved beyond what we¡¯ve heretofore witnessed¡­ Indeed, this is no common raid. Something higher moves them. No mere orc set this in motion.¡±

    Warren turned toward the command center. ¡°I shall return anon. Thank you for your insight, Sergeant Garrett; I must put this before the Director-General.¡±

    Cole watched him go, taking a sip from his own canteen. That was when he saw it ¨C one of the soldiers in the Second Platoon, helmet on, breaking formation and walking toward Warren. Maybe he had business with Warren? A fan, maybe?

    But it didn¡¯t seem right; there was a time and place for getting autographs, and this sure as hell wasn¡¯t one. Shit, he didn¡¯t even wave a hand like an enthusiastic fan might. If Warren had caught on, he couldn¡¯t tell.

    Warren adjusted his path, angling himself so there was no one behind the soldier ¨C no collateral damage. Oh, he knew.

    And it paid off.

    The helmeted soldier moved fast, his rifle snapping up with unnatural speed ¨C enhancement magic. Warren reacted just as fast, bringing his revolver up.

    At the same time, multiple barriers flared to life. The first layer was pulled straight from the surrounding atmosphere ¨C ambient moisture condensed into a dense curtain of water. Behind it, a slab of earth and rock, compacted with magic, meant to absorb whatever got through. The final layer, a standard barrier, stood as a failsafe against anything that still had force behind it.

    Both sides fired.

    Warren¡¯s setup might¡¯ve worked against 9mm ¨C hell, it might¡¯ve worked against .50. But this was the same sort of round that pulverized that mimic on the first night. It moved hard, cleaving through the water as if it weren¡¯t even there. It ripped through the stone next, punching a clean hole through like sabot against drywall. Then it hit the barrier, which probably did more than the water, but may as well have been nonexistent in the grand scheme of things.

    The round slammed into Warren¡¯s armor with the force of a truck, launching him backward.

    The other guy? He wouldn¡¯t be getting up at all.

    Warren¡¯s revolver had obliterated his chest, leaving a grotesque bloom of red where his torso used to be.

    Cole was already en route, but it seemed that was the end of it. No immediate targets. The nearby soldiers didn¡¯t even have time to react. The fight had lasted all of two seconds ¨C most of them probably hadn¡¯t even registered what just happened.

    ¡°MEDIC!¡± Cole yelled, rushing to Warren¡¯s side to cover him.

    Warren groaned. It was a rough, ragged sound ¨C not one of those death groans Cole had witnessed occasionally, thank God. His breathing seemed painful, but at least it was still an option. Warren might be hurting, but at least he still had a chest. Couldn¡¯t say the same for that helmeted guy.

    Elina and Mack dropped down beside him while Miles and Ethan covered, directing the nearby soldiers to check on the rest of Sergeant Dalen¡¯s group.

    Cole glanced down at the impact site, stepping back to give the two medical experts room. The bullet had left a deep crater, warping the metal and caving it inward, but it had held, somehow. Probably because it was made of some absurdly high-tier legendary bullshit, the kind that could stop what should have been a kill shot.

    ¡°We gotta get this off,¡± Mack said.

    Elina nodded, helping him loosen the brigandine¡¯s side buckles until they could push it above the damaged section.

    Warren grunted as it dragged over his skin, exposing the undersuit beneath ¨C Arachne Silk, courtesy of OTAC¡¯s lavish spending on its Slayers. Right now, it had demonstrated that it was worth every coin.

    No penetration, no stain, no blood. A good sign, but they weren¡¯t out of the woods just yet. Mack pulled up the undersuit, checking the skin. The bruising was already setting in. A deep, angry purple-black splotch spread across his side, centered on the worst of the impact. The edges bled out into mottled red and dark blue, swelling slightly where blood had pooled under the skin.

    ¡°No crepitus,¡± Mack said, feeling the region. He caught Warren¡¯s confusion. ¡°I mean, no broken bones.¡±

    Mack smiled, patting Warren on the shoulder. ¡°Good news: your organs aren¡¯t leaking. Just cracked ribs and a lot of bruising.¡± He turned to Elina as Warren gave a grunt of acknowledgment. ¡°How long will it take?¡±

    ¡°An hour to fully ¨C¡±

    Warren raised his hand. ¡°Leave me. The medics here ¨C you must go. Kidry.¡±

    ¡°Yo,¡± Ethan called out from behind them. He stood over the fallen soldier, the helmet already removed. ¡°It¡¯s Gadron.¡±

    ¡°He ain¡¯t shiftin¡¯ though,¡± Miles said. ¡°Ain¡¯t a mimic?¡±

    ¡°A mystery for¨C¡± Warren groaned, shifting to get a glance. ¡° ¨Clater. Stronger demon, no doubt. No time to tarry. Kidry. Go.¡±

    Cole nodded. They¡¯d have enough time to speculate en route. Mind control, possession ¨C whatever it was, that must''ve been what caused the mutiny. They¡¯d find out soon enough.

    ¡°Alright.¡± He turned to his team as a pair of Nolaren¡¯s medics tended to Warren. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

 Chapter 23: Possession

    Cole tracked the sun¡¯s descent through the shuttle windows. The increasing cloud cover meant maybe half an hour of useful daylight left. Perfect time for those things.

    ¡°And to think I¡¯d believed myself prepared for further absurdity.¡± Elina gave an awkward laugh, pointing at Cole¡¯s helmet. ¡°I had thought your helm an oddity in itself, but¡­ what am I to make of that?¡±

    Cole smirked. ¡°We call ¡®em NODs. Lets us uh¡­¡± he paused. The ENVG-B sitting on top of his head could do a hell of a lot more than night vision, but explaining thermal overlays to someone who¡¯d probably just learned of electricity seemed counterproductive. ¡°Lets us see in the dark. We may need them if the fighting spills into the forest.¡±

    ¡°Reckon so ¨C Kidry¡¯s sittin¡¯ right next to the forest, after all,¡± Miles said from the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Should be comin¡¯ up on it right now, just past this rise.¡±

    Miles slowed down their shuttle. Behind them, hooves crunched to a halt as the relief force reined in their mounts. Cole grabbed his rifle and stepped down from the shuttle, checking that his gear was properly secured.

    The lieutenant commanding the riders dismounted and crossed to their position.

    ¡°Sir Cole,¡± the man saluted. ¡°Lieutenant Malcord, at your service.¡±

    ¡°Lieutenant.¡± Cole returned the salute. ¡°Keep your men here until we know what we¡¯re dealing with.¡±

    ¡°Understood, sir.¡±

    Cole turned toward Miles and jerked his head toward the slight hill. Miles nodded, shouldering his Vicer.

    Cole flicked his fingers, and the ground obeyed ¨C dirt and stone shifting into simple flat steps.

    Magic, as he had learned, turned out to be a lot more useful than he¡¯d initially thought. Even something as small as making a staircase with earth magic made enough of a difference. Of course, they weren¡¯t necessary ¨C they could scramble up if they had to ¨C but they had an obvious quality of life adjustment available. With magic discipline a negligible concern, why not take it?

    They climbed up in silence, ankles saved from loose shale. Five meters from the top, Cole halted and reached out, fingers curling in the dirt. The earth swelled upward, forming a low ridge ¨C a natural blind with a narrow slit.

    Only then did they crawl the last stretch, keeping low, close enough to see over but not enough to silhouette themselves against the sky.

    Cole exhaled, rolling his shoulders before pulling the spyglass from his vest and extending it. Next to him, Miles settled in, rifle braced.

    Kidry perched on its low mound, the afternoon light catching glints on its stone walls. The moat was narrower than he¡¯d expected ¨C ten feet at most, basically a glorified creek. A ragged breach gaped in the section facing the forest where something big had come through. No defenders visible on the walls, unfortunately. Just empty ramparts and towers.

    Goblin corpses littered the ground outside the walls, maybe two dozen of them. But no sign of the Nevskors they¡¯d reportedly engaged, nor any of the larger demon troops like orcs. He glanced at the walls again. Still not a single silhouette against the sky. Maybe it meant they were holed up somewhere inside, but that was admittedly wishful thinking. Shit definitely didn¡¯t sit right.

    ¡°I¡¯m counting at least 20 corpses ¨C all goblins,¡± Cole reported, scanning the field. ¡°No Nevskors. No defenders on the ramparts.¡±

    ¡°Well, that don¡¯t track. Ain¡¯t no way Kidry went down that fast.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m prayin¡¯ they¡¯re just holed up, barricaded in one of those buildings.¡± Cole zoomed in on the breach. ¡°Shit.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Gate¡¯s blown. From the inside.¡± Cole lowered his spyglass.

    Miles exhaled. ¡°Hell¡­ Gotta be tied to that mutiny they mentioned. If it weren¡¯t mimics¡­ possession?¡±

    ¡°Fuck¡­¡± Cole crawled back, stowing his spyglass. ¡°Let¡¯s regroup, see if Elina knows anything.¡±

    Malcord approached as they hit the base of the hill. ¡°Sir Cole?¡±

    Cole shook his head. ¡°No signs of activity from Kidry. Gate¡¯s breached from the inside ¨C an extension of the mutiny, most likely. Either the survivors are holed up, or there are none remaining.¡±

    That landed like a punch to the gut. Malcord lowered his head. ¡°That bodes¡­ ill.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no kidding.¡± Cole turned to Elina. ¡°That thing with Gadron ¨C you mentioned something about his mana being off. What exactly did you notice?¡±

    ¡°His mana gathered within his head, yet no spell was cast, nor any working made plain to me. Still, the mana was drawn forth and spent. And having witnessed the Corporal¡¯s hand guided to treachery, I hold no doubt ¨C it was possession.¡±

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake. Mind control?¡± Mack sighed. ¡°Any way to check if they¡¯re still in there? Or do we have to, well¡­¡± he lowered his voice, ¡°Put down our own guys?¡±

    Elina took a moment to think. ¡°Should I come within ¨C hmm, perhaps a hundred meters, I may cast a spell to divine whether the men of Kidry are taken by possession.¡±

    Cole frowned. A spell to confirm it, huh? A hundred meters would put them well within rifle range ¨C way too fucking close. But what choice did they have? If these men weren¡¯t acting on their own, there were strings. Find out who was pulling them¡­ kill the puppeteer and the strings go slack. No guarantees, but it sure as hell beat killing their own people.

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    ¡°Can you tell where the uh, possessor might be?¡± Ethan had caught on.

    ¡°Yes, I believe so.¡± Elina¡¯s eyes widened. She got it as well. ¡°But¡­ we know so little of possession. Even should we find this possessor, striking it down may unbind the men, but it may not¨C¡± She glanced down for a split second. ¡°It may not truly free them.¡±

    PTSD, probably. Or whatever fucked up variation getting possessed would no doubt result in. ¡°Agreed. But it¡¯s still our best shot.¡± Cole turned to Malcord. ¡°Lieutenant, my team¡¯s moving up. We¡¯ll get close enough for Elina to run her detection spell. Hopefully we won¡¯t run into trouble.¡±

    ¡°Very well, Sir Cole. I shall have my guns at the ready, should mischance befall you.¡± Malcord offered a smile, clasping his shoulder. ¡°Rest assured, we shall rain iron upon Kidry should the need arise. Godspeed, Heroes.¡±

    Cole gave a slight nod. Malcord seemed to enjoy speaking like war was still something noble ¨C a remnant from an era of swords and honor, not guns and artillery. Being immortalized by a glorious last stand against demons? Sure. Getting turned to paste by high explosives? Much less inspiring.

    Same old business, then. He turned, leading his team around the hill.

    The terrain between their position and Kidry was uncomfortably barren. No real cover to speak of except scattered brush ¨C certainly nothing that would stop a bullet. It was a real pain in the ass. Not insurmountable, but not something they could ignore, either.

    Their options sucked; no real choices, just lesser evils. The direct approach at least had a boulder cluster ¨C not great, but enough to keep them from standing in the open while Elina worked. Decent cover for now, but a death trap if they had to retreat.

    ¡°Walls are clear,¡± Ethan said.

    Cole signaled his team to move up on the boulder cluster. They reached the rocks without incident. From here, they had direct sight on both the gate and the ramparts. But that also meant the opposite was true.

    He flicked a glance at Mack. ¡°Mist?¡±

    Mack nodded. A haze began to bleed into the dying light, curling around the boulder outcropping and spreading into the surrounding field. It¡¯d break line of sight, screw with their shots ¨C but at least it worked both ways.

    Cole nodded, flipping his NODs down like a pair of sunglasses. He switched to fusion mode before peeking around the boulder. The haze blurred under the image intensification ¨C just grayscale goop. He looked to his right. Mack¡¯s orange outline was clear, as expected, but the previously sun-baked ramparts were already losing their faint glow.

    Either way, they had to work with it. Cole turned to Elina. ¡°Start casting. We¡¯ll cover.¡±

    Elina stood behind Cole, consolidating the ambient mana around her. The first pulse went out, passing through him with a subtle tug. A returning wave came back with the same light force ¨C invisible, but definitely present. Cole couldn¡¯t interpret them like Elina could, but he kept his NODs trained on the ramparts anyway. If there was anything up there, it would¡¯ve noticed Elina¡¯s magic radar.

    ¡°Thirty-seven signatures. All¡­ possessed.¡± Elina gave a heavy sigh. ¡°I sense a trail as well ¨C faint, into the forest. Whatever commands them ought to be¨C¡±

    Cole¡¯s hand snapped up. Through the enhanced night vis, an orange silhouette had appeared against the cooling stone of the ramparts. More emerged ¨C possessed soldiers. ¡°We¡¯re falling back. Elina, with me.¡±

    The first shots cracked out wild ¨C bright thermal blooms through the grayscale backdrop as the possessed opened fire from the walls. The haze did its job; rounds snapped harmlessly overhead or kicked up dirt far from their position. But all it¡¯d take was one lucky hit.

    Cole channeled enhancement through his legs, prepping a barrier for the sprint across open ground. The first fifty meters vanished beneath them, enhancement magic turning their sprint into something just shy of superhuman.

    Beside him, Mack prepared a spell. The adjustments to spell design were obvious enough ¨C the formation layered in air barriers instead of the usual concentrated core. Whatever Mack was going for, it wasn¡¯t his usual fireball; there was too much air just to be used for fueling combustion and too little fire and stone to be used for outright destruction.

    He launched it. The concussive blast struck the base of the wall, showing up as a brief thermal flash when it hit ¨C an upsized stun grenade. The defenders perched along the battlements faltered, some of them firing in a panic while the others probably lay sprawled on the ground, considering the lack of cracking gunshots.

    A fireball at that power level would¡¯ve struck with the force of a Hellfire missile. Mack could¡¯ve ripped apart the wall if he wanted to, but pulled his punches instead. The men of Kidry weren¡¯t a lost cause yet.

    They continued their sprint, eating up another couple hundred meters before the gunfire started to pick up again, followed by a pair of thunderous booms from ahead. They whistled above, striking Kidry¡¯s walls ¨C Malcord must¡¯ve acted upon seeing Mack¡¯s spell.

    Cole flipped up his NODs. Between the distance, the haze, and the disorientation from several sources of explosive power, there was no way the possessed were gonna be landing shots any time soon.

    Their enhancement magic carried them through the last stretch. They rounded the hill just as the second volley slammed into Kidry, the outpost¡¯s silhouette now hidden behind the rise. Almost immediately as they arrived, Malcord yelled out: ¡°Cease fire!¡±

    Cole stumbled to a stop, hands on his knees while his body rebelled like a machine pushed past its design limits. Fuck, he probably should¡¯ve practiced those laps a bit more ¨C or at least did some stretching before juicing up with enhancement magic. His lungs felt like they¡¯d been hooked up to a faulty compressor, and his legs were one wrong step away from straight-up collapse. He croaked, fighting the sandpaper in his throat, ¡°Sound off.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Miles said, his voice hitching ¨C just slightly ¨C as the enhancement wore off.

    ¡°Same here.¡± Mack seemed even better off, despite having been bedridden for weeks. Either he had insane metabolism, or he¡¯d taken full advantage of his mana capacity. Impressive, honestly.

    Ethan though¡­ He didn¡¯t even say a word. He just raised a shaky thumbs-up, keeling over like he¡¯d downed half a bottle of vodka. For a moment, Cole thought he might actually go down, but the man swallowed hard and managed a weak nod. Good enough.

    A moment passed before Cole turned his gaze toward Elina, who¡¯d been standing there like she was waiting for someone to hand her a script. She blinked, suddenly realizing the spotlight was on her. ¡°Oh ¨C yes, I am unharmed.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Cole looked up the hill.

    The field guns had been positioned with quite the surprise. Someone ¨C Malcord, probably ¨C had copied Cole¡¯s earth magic trick from earlier, carving depressions near the crest. It was the same principle scaled up: guns could fire over the hill while keeping their profile low, just like Cole had done to observe Kidry.

    This was probably a first for Celdorne ¨C fighting something that could shoot back. Still, they¡¯d adapted impressively fast.

    It made Cole even more eager to get this over with. If Malcord¡¯s men could pick up on things this quickly, what did that mean for Kathyra and her researchers? Honestly, he should probably temper expectations, but damn if that¡¯d stop him from daydreaming about what they could whip up.

    Cole turned to his team and gestured up. ¡°Let¡¯s see the Lieutenant.¡±

 Chapter 24:

    ¡°I assume Kidry is lost?¡± Malcord asked as they approached.

    ¡°For now,¡± Cole sighed. ¡°Thirty-seven guys inside, all possessed. Lady Elina traced some residual mana back into the forest. Whatever¡¯s controlling them is out there.¡±

    He crouched down, sketching a quick map in the dirt. Shit was barren, almost depressing. From satellite imagery to this ¨C primitive scratches and a blob that might generously be called a forest. But what else could he do without proper cartography?

    Admiring his masterpiece one last time, he got up and turned to his audience. ¡°Alright, here¡¯s what we¡¯ve got. Kidry here; forest starts about three hundred meters out, perpendicular to the wall. Lieutenant, we need your men containing the outpost while we track this thing down.¡±

    ¡°As you command. I can position additional men here and here.¡± Malcord pointed to two spots on the crude diagram, effectively blocking off Kidry from the forest in case they tried to pursue.

    ¡°Good. That gives us covered approach to the treeline.¡± Cole lifted his gaze from the map, studying his team. The formation had to protect Mack and Elina ¨C losing their heaviest hitter or their medic wasn¡¯t an option. And with Elina tracking the target¡¯s magic, he didn¡¯t need a second person up front.

    Ethan¡¯s expertise with runes and defensive magic made him more valuable pulling rear security than up front. Might as well have Miles tag along with him.

    Cole drew another line in the dirt. ¡°We¡¯ll go with a wedge ¨C ten meter spread. I¡¯ll take point, run my NODs continuously up front. Garrett, Walker ¨C split left and right, stagger to conserve battery.¡± He tapped the ENVG-B on his head. ¡°Mack and Lady Elina will stay in the center of our triangle.¡±

    ¡°Once we find the target, we¡¯ll defer to Lady Elina¡¯s expertise if it¡¯s something she¡¯s got input on. Otherwise, we resort to overkill.¡± Cole gave a nod to Mack before glancing at Ethan. ¡°Walker, can you set runes behind us, maybe every 50 meters or so? Viet Cong type shit?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Could cost me a mana potion depending on how deep we go, but yeah.¡±

    Cole nodded. ¡°We go back through our entry point if things go bad. Our runes¡¯ll slow anything trying to follow.¡± He turned to Malcord. ¡°Lieutenant, if you hear sustained fire, assume we¡¯ve found our target. Don¡¯t send reinforcements unless we specifically call for them; we¡¯ll mark with flares instead. Red means we need men. Blue means we¡¯re coming out hot ¨C have your guns ready.¡±

    ¡°Understood, Sir Cole,¡± Malcord said.

    Not exactly doctrinal planning, but it wasn¡¯t too shabby given what little they had. Years of experience had hammered Murphy¡¯s Law right into his soul ¨C no plan was infallible, especially when unpredictable bullshit got involved. But as long as they could adapt, they¡¯d survive.

    ¡°Alright, then. Mack?¡±

    Mack was already on it. The first wisps of mist coalesced, rolling out onto the field. It was slow at first, but visibility had already begun to plummet. Within minutes, it¡¯d blanket the open ground.

    The first shots came when the mist reached about halfway to Kidry; the possessed soldiers probably couldn¡¯t make out their position clearly anymore. Sporadic at first, then building into sustained fire as the fog continued to thicken. Whoever was in control had naturally opted for self-preservation over conserving its puppets¡¯ resources.

    Cole channeled mana throughout his body. ¡°Let¡¯s hope they don¡¯t get suicidal and try to chase us. Go.¡±

    They bolted. Cole felt the mana surge through his muscles as enhancement took hold. The possessed soldiers¡¯ fire continued, rounds cracking through the mist. He kept checking behind them ¨C all the thermal signatures stayed locked to Kidry¡¯s walls. Thank God.

    The forest¡¯s edge materialized after a couple minutes of sprinting. Cole¡¯s muscles burned once more through the strain of sustained enhancement, but then they arrived, slipping into the cover of the trees.

    Only then did he allow himself a slow exhale ¨C but nothing more; one was all he could afford. No hoping they¡¯d gone unnoticed. It knew they were coming.

    From here on out, they¡¯d be relying on the surrounding foliage for concealment. The mist receded as Mack gave up the spell and popped a mana potion.

    Meanwhile, Ethan dropped to a knee behind them. He held his hand over the dirt, carving out a jumble of lines designed to trigger a simple pitfall trap. Of course, he didn¡¯t stop there. The spikes were the missing piece of the puzzle ¨C the pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance of any fucked-up guerrilla death trap.

    Ethan stood and gave them a thumbs-up.

    They dispersed into their planned wedge, maintaining a 10-meter spread. Elina whispered directions from behind him ¨C not ideal for stealth, but permissible. Cole preferred keeping his eyes ahead; better than clumping up or turning around every time she wanted to throw up a hand signal.

    Every 50 meters or so, they stopped for Ethan to lay down runes and to practice simple SLLS ¨C stop, look, listen, and smell. Should honestly incorporate mana detection as well, but Elina remained their sole expert in that field. Thankfully, it didn¡¯t matter much ¨C at least for now.

    They continued their advance, stopping every fifty meters for Ethan¡¯s runes and a quick scan of their surroundings. Nothing again. They repeated the same shit for the next few hops until they finally reached the 400-meter point.

    Cole raised his fist, then gestured for them to come closer. ¡°Movement, my one o¡¯clock.¡± He kept his voice low, scanning through his ENVG-B. Dozens of faint orange signatures popped up, faint against the forest¡¯s backdrop. Distance was tricky, but he could guesstimate. ¡°Multiple thermal signatures¡­ dozens. At least forty, somewhere between a hundred and a hundred fifty meters out.¡±

    ¡°ID?¡± Mack whispered.

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Cole squinted. He¡¯d need to get closer to confirm, but he had a general idea of what they might be, assuming party crashers hadn¡¯t fucked up their previous intel. ¡°Goblins, most likely. Unless Malcord¡¯s containment failed, there shouldn¡¯t be any humans out here. Given the raids, it¡¯s gotta be goblins.¡±

    ¡°Could be cultists,¡± Mack said.

    Miles posted up beside Cole, flicking on his laser. ¡°Hell, hostiles either way. Goblins, cultists, it don¡¯t really matter ¨C we¡¯re puttin¡¯ ¡®em down regardless.¡±

    Cole reached for the crude mount on his rifle, activating his laser as well. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing his team. ¡°Let¡¯s get a closer look.¡±

    They crept forward another thirty meters before Cole tossed up another fist. The signatures were much clearer now, and there was also¡­ something new. ¡°Got a larger signature mixed in with the rest. About twice their size. Gotta be their orc.¡±

    He panned across the forest. ¡°Looks like most of their unit is here, minus the ones they lost at Kidry. 60 plus goblins total. No Nevskors that I can see though.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mean shit,¡± Miles whispered. ¡°Bastards could be underneath us right now.¡±

    ¡°A tremor will precede their emergence. It should offer enough time to prepare.¡± She paused, glancing around the group before clarifying further, ¡°A few seconds ¨C surely that should suffice, yes?¡±

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    Some clarity that was. Cole frowned, already glancing down at the unperturbed soil at his feet. Enhancement magic might buy them those seconds ¨C assuming it¡¯d work fast enough. Not exactly the kind of assumption he wanted to test in the field. ¡°Uh, sure. Well¡­ we¡¯ll operate like they¡¯re here anyway.¡± He continued his sweep, then paused. ¡°Hold up¡­ got something strange. Cold spot, maybe ten degrees below ambient? Could be natural, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I see it too.¡± Ethan said. ¡°Stands out, for sure.¡±

    Cole flipped between fusion mode and pure thermal mode. ¡°Can¡¯t gauge distance, but if it¡¯s near the demons, then it¡¯d be about human-size. Probably a bit taller than that.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Just how much is ¡®a bit¡¯?¡± Mack asked.

    Cole probably had to retract that. ¡°Uh¡­ It¡¯d make Shaq look like a normal dude. Fuckin¡¯ uh, nine? Ten feet, maybe?¡±

    ¡°Ten foot tall cold spot? Aw, hell, Mercer.¡± Miles shook his head. ¡°And here I was thinkin¡¯ I shoulda packed some garlic. Silver bullets woulda been nice too.¡±

    ¡°These ain¡¯t vampires as we know ¡®em,¡± Mack whispered. ¡°Don¡¯t think they¡¯d even be vulnerable to any of that. We¡¯re just gonna have to fuck it up the old fashioned way.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm.¡± Ethan eased himself to the ground, raising up the earth to mimic a sandbag rest for his rifle. ¡°If it can bleed, it can die.¡±

    ¡°Ha! That all demons bleed is certain; whether a Vampire Lord should suffer to lend us its blood is another matter entirely.¡± Elina sighed, replicating Ethan¡¯s trick. ¡°Sir Cole, I might seek to discern its mana signature, but the pulse¡­ it shall make our presence known. Have you any preference?¡±

    Active radar in hostile airspace was damn near what it sounded like. They might as well fire off a flare and start shooting while they were at it. Though with all the magic they¡¯d been throwing around ¨C earth magic, runes ¨C plus the fact that the possessed literally saw their entrance into the forest, the enemy wasn¡¯t exactly short on evidence of their presence.

    ¡°You think it¡¯s already picked up on our other stuff?¡± Cole asked.

    Elina inclined her head. ¡°To raise a ridge or set runes is much the same as the thrust of a blade. A detection pulse, however, is cannon fire. They ought not yet know of our presence.¡±

    Cole scratched his neck. Where would that leave them? If it does turn out to be a Vampire Lord like they¡¯d guessed, then the detection would do nothing but reveal their location. In that case¡­

    ¡°ID don¡¯t really matter, does it?¡± Miles interjected, already on Cole¡¯s page. ¡°Hell, we can just cap the sumbitch right now. Ain¡¯t no orc ¨C that big one¡¯s over there with the goblins. Ain¡¯t no Nevskor neither. Only leaves the bastard we came to drop.¡±

    Maybe it was just confirmation bias, but the point couldn¡¯t be more valid. They were here to stop the manipulator, and the looks on the others¡¯ faces suggested full agreement. ¡°All right,¡± he conceded. ¡°Rifles only. Mack, hold the magic for now ¨C with any luck, you won¡¯t need it.¡±

    He glanced at Elina. No laser, no thermals or night vision. ¡°Lady Elina, watch our backs.¡±

    Cole lowered himself, stomach touching the grass below as he coaxed the earth to form a perfect rest. Having to use irons in this situation represented one of the greatest challenges he¡¯d seen since coming here. No scopes meant he had to rely on just his natural instinct. He brought his targeting laser to center mass. ¡°Everyone on target. Three. Two¡­¡±

    The figure remained motionless, either oblivious or unconcerned. Either way, that was about to change.

    ¡°One. Engage.¡±

    Rounds cracked out, their muzzles flashing like lightning through his ENVG-B. The cold spot darted toward the goblins¡¯ heat signatures. It moved fast enough that it reached the crowd, disappearing into a mass of orange before Cole could rack the bolt and get the next round in place. They¡¯d hit it, that much was sure. But there was no way to confirm if it was fatal. And naturally, confirmation wasn¡¯t about to get any easier.

    A tremor shook the ground almost immediately after the cold spot made it to relative safety. Fuck. Cole pushed himself off the ground, working the bolt. ¡°Nevskors!¡±

    Everyone scrambled to their feet, backing away from the cracked earth and bringing rifles to bear. Elina¡¯s rifle swung up ¨C Cole registered something mounted under the barrel that his brain first processed as a bayonet. Not quite. Bayonets didn¡¯t spawn glowing circles, and they definitely didn¡¯t turn solid ground into mud. It was a tactical wand ¨C not that he had time to even dwell on that.

    The cracked ground liquefied, thickening as a slush, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Two insect-like creatures burst through, one the size of a van and the other the size of a truck. They exploded up like artillery in reverse, spraying mud and slurry. The third hadn¡¯t showed up ¨C relieving and terrifying at the same time.

    Their joints glowed hot through the NODs, segments moving around in ways that would make an engineer cry. The first one to pop up dripped bright blood, presumably injured from its encounter with the party that went missing. It went after Miles and Ethan. The second one ¨C larger and with no injuries to concern itself with ¨C went straight for Cole.

    Pure instinct sent him left as the larger Nevskor scythed the ground where he¡¯d been prone moments before. He dodged the massive claw, aimed his weapon right at the soft underbelly, and pulled the trigger.

    The round struck true, blood spraying in a bright bloom. Rounds from Elina and Mack struck just as hard. The beast let out a sharp, metallic shriek and convulsed, spraying sludge and blood everywhere.

    Cole worked the bolt one-handed while he used his other hand to cast a spell. Amplifying Elina¡¯s mud would be perfect ¨C pin the bastard down while its belly was exposed. He pulled at the softened earth beneath the Nevskor, willing it to surge up and consolidate around its joints. Mud thickened like a vise, momentarily trapping it.

    But right as Cole squeezed the trigger again, the beast wrenched itself sideways. Its colossal claws carved through the sopping clay, fracturing the mud prison. The round slammed into the beast¡¯s carapace instead, lodging itself without visibly slowing it down.

    Cole chambered another round, but jumped back as the Nevskor¡¯s tail whipped across the ground. Within seconds it vanished beneath the liquified soil.

    He spared a glance at the others. Mack stood behind him, already preparing one of those fireballs of his to lob at the approaching goblins. Elina? She¡¯d busied herself with carving out a safe island, hardening and compacting the earth into a hard, dense material ¨C much like the roads back in Alexandria. His gaze landed on Miles and Ethan just in time to see them drive their Nevskor back into the ground.

    ¡°Shift fire!¡± Cole called out. ¡°Engage goblins! Mack, focus on the orc!¡±

    Cole set his laser on the incoming goblins. It was too bad they were smart enough not to clump up, but there was little they could do regardless. He and the others picked them off one by one with a combination of rifle fire and smaller-scale fireballs.

    Meanwhile, Mack prepared his spell. He steadied himself, channeling mana with none of the restraint he¡¯d shown back when he debuted this spell. If the prototype had been a basic shaped-charge fireball, then this iteration was the first true upgrade ¨C enough to outclass the best fireball Slayer Elites had to offer.

    He started with a condensed sphere of flame sealed behind two barrier layers, the frontal one molded into a cone-like depression. Then came the rock fragments: pulverized into fine shrapnel and compacted for durability. A small aperture at the rear channeled expanding gases, shaping them into a focused jet that propelled the projectile forward like a short-range rocket.

    When he released it, the fiery missile blitzed forward with a concussive crack, vapor trails curling as it shattered the sound barrier. This was no ordinary fantasy fireball; it was a straight-up Hellfire, hot and screaming.

    The orc didn¡¯t stand a chance. Honestly, it may have even been overkill. The blast hit like a JDAM going off in close air support ¨C a raw, concussive punch to the chest. The goblins in the radius couldn¡¯t even react; they faced an instant, merciful death at the hands of a wall of pressure, fire, and shrapnel.

    Those not in the immediate radius still got eviscerated by molten shrapnel, unfortunate enough to die slower deaths than their comrades who got to experience this planet¡¯s first true demonstration of modern shock and awe.

    But they didn¡¯t seem to care. What would¡¯ve demoralized any other fighting force had no visible impact on the surviving thirty or so goblins. They just kept on charging straight to their deaths ¨C blind, obedient, like units in a game following a move command, straight into the grinder.

    Mack stumbled back, letting out a ragged exhale as he pulled another blue vial from his vest. He muttered a half-laugh. ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t expecting a standing ovation or anything but damn. Figured that woulda broken ¡®em.¡±

    The earth rumbled once more ¨C lighter this time, closer to a passing quake than a full-blown San Andreas catastrophe.

    Cole spun right, catching both Nevskors as they popped up right by Miles and Ethan, effectively cutting them off from his group. His laser was nearly on the smaller beast when Elina¡¯s voice called out behind him:

    ¡°Evade!¡±

    Cole moved on instinct, flinging himself sideways as something massive dropped from the canopy. Not as big as a Nevskor, but faster. And more importantly, humanoid. A shadow swallowed his vision for half a second, and then a blade slammed down where Mack had just been, tearing into ground with enough force to crater the packed earth and send chunks ripping free.

    Towering at nearly ten feet tall, the newcomer rose with unnerving grace. Cole took aim, almost grimacing at what he saw: pale, stretched-out limbs draped in dark robes. A face framed by curved fangs ¨C long, curling inward, like something meant to hold on. The cold spot that had eluded them earlier now stood in horrifying detail.

    A Vampire Lord.

    They¡¯d found the manipulator. Or rather, it had found them.