The Adventurers of Moray: Book Two Chapter Two: Restaraunt

Restaurant

The aftermath of the sniper attack is only slightly more prolonged than the attack itself. Mandrake summons a sheet of glass to replace the broken one and puts it in place with a couple of slaps. The broken glass pieces are shoved into a trash bin and I am the one to carry it into the street.

Mandrake grins. “That damn bastard. The sniper was probably hired by the Darks to give us a scare.” He holds the bullet he caught between two fingers up to the light. “But I must say, using pure gold bullets sure stinks of petty overspending.”

As he says, the bullet is indeed made of gold.

“Well,” says Mandrake. “At least we know that the Darks have a good source of funding. But we could have guessed that, right?”

I nod. “Can I see the bullet?”

“Sure,” says Mandrake, dropping the solid gold nugget into my hand. It is a lot heavier than I thought it would be. Since it was caught perfectly between two fingers, it hasn’t been deformed much by impact.

“Can I keep this?” I ask.

Mandrake chuckles. “Sure. Though I don’t know what a kid who can easily buy as much gold as they desire would do with a tiny nugget like this. For me this is a lot but for you? No.” He pauses. “It would take some serious capital to buy enough of these to win in a sustained firefight. Plus, it’s just wasteful.”

I cup the gold bullet in my hand. It is warm.

Mandrake rummages through a bin and pulls out a sheet of metal.

“This is a prototype I’m working on,” he says. He hands it to me. “Since you’re the metals expert here, I was wondering what you’d think of it.”

I rub my thumb along the metal. “It’s fine,” I say. To tell the truth, I actually do not know as much about metal as Mandrake seems to think I do.

Though I have studied up a lot in my quest to find a way to teach those conjurers Crayton hired for me.

“Good,” says Mandrake. He takes the sheet and tacks it to the window with nails. Now the only light in the room is coming from a desk lamp. Mandrake sits in the recliner properly this time. He takes out a cigar and cuts it. After a thorough examination, he lights it with an antique lighter. After a single puff he lets it hang out of his fingers.

“I trust you have a strong conscience,” says Mandrake. “You were able to avoid causing trouble even with the huge amount of resources at your disposal.”

“Um, I’m not sure they’re so huge,” I say.

Mandrake takes another puff of his cigar. “Nonsense. You are the master of the entire contents of an S-class portal. Including the bosses. With that power you could conquer the world.”

I shake my head. “But I don’t want to.”

“Exactly,” says Mandrake. “However, your power makes you a sought-after figure. Everyone will want you to be on their side, and they will offer very tempting things in return.”

Besides reviving Alice, which I don’t think anyone would be able to do, I really don’t know what I want deep down inside. I just want to relax and enjoy life while I have it.

Mandrake stands up from the chair and walks to the kitchen. He is still holding his cigar.

“I was going to offer you something to eat,” he says, “But this safe house hasn’t been restocked in a while.” He opens the fridge. “All we have is a couple of microwave dinners.”

I shake my head, and then turn to Sebastian. “What’s the fanciest restaurant in London?”

Sebastian seems to think for a moment. Then he smiles. “A restaurant opened not too long ago that serves conjured meals. They recently gained their third Michelin Star.” He puts his finger to his temple. “I think it was called ‘Conjuratus.’”

I grin. “Great,” I say. “Let’s take Mandrake there.”

Mandrake walks out of the kitchen. “So, do you want something to eat or not?” He looks between me and Sebastian. “What?”

“We’re going to take you out to eat,” I say.

“Well then!” says Mandrake. “I hope it’s somewhere not too expensive!”

“We’re heading to Conjuratus,” I say.

Mandrake’s eyes open wide. “I would love to,” he says. “Are you sure you want to be spending that kind of money on me?”

“You’re a silverbones,” I say. “Don’t you have a lot of money anyways?”

Mandrake shakes his head. “No. As a matter of fact, I make just enough money to live on.”

I am confused. With his power, he could be doing anything, making a ton of money.

Mandrake tilts his head. “I see you’re confused. It’s just a personal creed of mine. I’m very against the idea of wealth.” He shrugs. “But I can’t refuse the kindness of others, either.” He smiles. “Let’s go!”

Sebastian leads Mandrake and I through the building until we reach the street. Our limo is already pulled up next to the sidewalk. Sebastian opens the doors for Mandrake and me. I get in first.

Mandrake sits down.

I open the mini fridge. “Do you like alcohol?” I ask.

Mandrake raises an eyebrow. “What’s a minor like you doing with vintage whiskeys?”

“There’s also brandies and gin,” says Sebastian, from the front seat.

“I’ll take the gin,” says Mandrake. He grabs a bottle of gin and pours himself a glass. Glancing at me, he smiles. “Well, I suppose you need something to drink as well.”

I open the hidden fridge and pull out a diet root beer, popping it open with a snap.

Mandrake chuckles. “Diet root beer. Good choice, lad.”

Sebastian sighs from the front seat. Yeah, yeah. Diet root beer isn’t exactly suited for a rich young prince like me. Appearances and all that. I take a guilty sip of the beverage and set it down on the table with high edges.

Mandrake watches the cars beside us, not saying a word. I am left wondering what he is thinking.

“You haven’t told me directly,” I say, “But what’s the purpose of the Silverbones?”

“Immortality,” says Mandrake. “Or, at least, the search for it.” He sighs. “Plus a lot of other things. Look, lad. Don’t worry about what we do before you’ve made a decision.”

“But it’s obvious what I want to do,” I say. “I’m no bad guy.”

“So they all say,” says Mandrake. “I’m not counting on your presence until after the Darks contact you. We’ll see how moral you are after you’re presented with their offer.”

We pull into the parking lot of Conjuratus. It’s a fancy building in the London suburbs that is decorated as one would expect a high-class restaurant to look.

Sebastian opens the door for me, and I step out. Mandrake follows.

Sebastian bows. “I will not be accompanying you this time,” he says. He hands me a card. “Here is the method of payment.”

It looks like a simple debit card. I shrug and put it in my pocket.

“That’s a British Express Platinum, my boy,” says Mandrake. He seems genuinely impressed.

I take the card back out of my pocket and examine it. It doesn’t look that special to me. Sure, it’s shiny and has good build, but I would expect that of any payment plastic. I place it back in my pocket.

Mandrake chuckles, and then turns to the entrance of the restaurant. “This will be the first time I’ve eaten high-class conjured food,” he says.

We both step in. I am dressed sharply—it’s been a habit of mine ever since I realized I could—and, of course, Mandrake is wearing a black suit and fedora. We are dressed for the establishment.

A waiter approaches us.

“Reservation for Mr. Red, correct?” he says.

I nod.

“Right this way, gentlemen,” says the waiter. He leads us to a rather private table near the back of the establishment. I can catch a glimpse of the kitchen from here.

We both sit down. The waiter hands us our menus.

I read through it and decide to try the Duck Flambe.

“So, what are you going to have?” I say, to Mandrake.

“Just a steak,” says Mandrake. “I’m not very used to establishments like this.”

“Neither am I,” I say. “But I suppose at chances like this I have to try something brave.”

“That’s a good way to think about it,” says Mandrake, as he puts his menu down. He folds his hands and rests his elbows on the table.

“I have to ask,” he says. “Do you know where your money is coming from?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” I say. “I just accept the fact that the portal beings working for me aren’t causing too much trouble.”

“Hrm,” says Mandrake. “You also have your Rearden Metal, right?” he says.

I nod.

Mandrake crosses his arms. “It’s normal for any human who has absorbed a multi-thousand-year ring to manifest many special powers. Entrance to the Silverbones requires absorption of at least a five-thousand-year spirit,” he says. He taps his finger on the table. “I myself have acquired a twelve-thousand-year spirit. I was originally the owner of an organic compound manifestation. A certain polymer that doesn’t have an official name. I was assigned to be an adventurer because I could use the polymer to create shields.”

“So you’re a tank-class,” I say.

“Correct,” says Mandrake. “And I manifested a wide range of powers having to do with plastics and organic compounds. That metal sheet I showed you is actually an organometal.”

I whistle. “I should try making something like that.”

Mandrake chuckles. “I don’t doubt you could. Rearden Metal and my creation are in different classes, but both are strong.”

The waiter comes to the table and we order. After the waiter leaves, Mandrake folds his hands.

“So, you’re here in London for just another month, right?” Mandrake says.

I nod. “Just long enough to teach the conjurers Esmex hired to produce Rearden Metal.”

Mandrake sighs. “I don’t know if that will come to good or not, but it’s part of my personal creed to neve profit from what I can produce.”

I shake my head. “I don’t really want to profit,” I say. “I just want to be useful to the world.”

“Well, that’s noble of you,” says Mandrake, with a small smile.

The waiter arrives with our dinners.

“That was quick!” says Mandrake, as the food is placed on the table.

The waiter gives a professional smile. “All our food is conjured in its final form by our head chef.”

I look at the beautiful duck roast in front of me. As the waiter leaves, I take a bite, making sure to adhere to the English etiquette I was taught not long ago.

There is a loud screech and a crash. A car comes barreling through the front of the restaurant and smashes the wall, sending tables and dishes flying.

A couple seconds of silence pass. The car doors open and a gigantic, beefy man with Schwarzenegger-class muscles steps out. He is holding a chaingun.

“Get down!” yells Mandrake, as he tips the table in the direction of the attacker. He forms a semi-clear barrier of organic material between us and the gunman.

The gun opens fire, sounding less like individual bullets and more like the tearing of a cosmic sheet of paper. Screams are everywhere. Broken dishes and tracer rounds fly all over the place. One of the restaurant goers seems to be an adventurer and tries to fight back. Before he can take out his weapon, he is turned into a fine red mist.

“Damn Ronald,” says Mandrake, as he crouches behind the table and his shield.

“Is that his name?” I say, as I watch the restaurant explode.

Hundreds of bullets are pinging against Mandrake’s shield.

Mandrake’s face is deadly serious. “Yes. He’s not someone you want to mess with.” He pauses. “Not that anyone in the Darks is to begin with.”

The chain gun is still firing. I’m pretty sure that, by now, everyone in the room is dead. And yet the gun keeps firing.

Finally, the chain gun stops. All that is left is the sound of it spinning, and then that stops.

Ronald takes a couple of steps towards us, shells clinking beneath his feet. He stops in the middle of the room.

“Come out, come out!” he says, with a thick German accent. His eyes lock on us. He grins. “We need to borrow little Markus for a moment,” he says. “If you don’t turn him over,” Ronald holds up a bomb detonator, “I will put a hole in this street. Many people will die!”

“You’ve already killed enough,” says Mandrake. “Why do you want to kill more?”

“Kill?” says Ronald. “I do not kill. I stomp. I crush. I flatten.” He turns the chain gun towards us. It begins to spin again.

Mandrake whispers to me. “If he directs the gun against my shield, I won’t be able to hold long.” He cringes. “I’m going to have to let you go. They won’t kill you or torture you. You’re too valuable.”

I shake my head. “I have an idea.” I reach into my personal dimension and find the stone golem boss from the S-class portal. It’s still there. When I see it in my mind’s eye, it stands up from a sitting position and kneels before me.

“Master,” it says.

I snap my fingers.

A white portal appears on the restaurant floor, covering several broken tables and dead bodies. The golem begins to rise from the ground. First its head, then its shoulders. When it is at its waist, it tears a hole in the ceiling. With two gigantic steps, it walks out of the portal and tramps towards Ronald.

“You bastard!” yells Ronald, as the golem picks him up in both hands.

“Guns don’t work against portal beings,” I say, grinning slightly.

Of course, my grin falls when I see the dead bodies.

It returns for a split second when the golem throws Ronald like a professional baseball pitcher and sends the killer flying over the city skyline. Then the golem bows to me, returns to the portal, and sinks back into the floor.

“That won’t kill him,” says Mandrake. “It will barely scratch him.” He sighs. “Now they’re probably going to punish you at some point. And they won’t be attacking you alone anymore. If you try the golem trick on Blastoid, you’ll end up with a cloud of steam and a pile of broken rocks.” Mandrake wipes his forehead with a handkerchief.

Police sirens wail in the distance.

“Well,” says Mandrake, “After the theft at the National Gallery, the news will have a lot of things to report today.” He turns to the dozens of dead bodies covering the restaurant floor. “Namaste,” he says, holding his hands together.

“Rest in peace,” I say, holding my own hands together.

It looks like the war has just begun.

The Adventurers of Moray: Book Two Chapter One: Dark and Bright

Dark and Bright

A month after my arrival in London for the CCC, I am about to bury my face in the sand and scream. The conjurers Crayton hired to produce Rearden Metal are nowhere near adhering to the schedule set before me. At this rate, two months will be nowhere near enough time to teach them how to create a single-crystal superalloy.

I am sitting on a couch in the lobby of the Esmex building. The people passing by me, wearing well-fitted business suits, give me a sense of peace that I like to enjoy. Soon my eyes close and I am asleep.

I stand in the middle of a labyrinth. The echoes of a girl crying reverberate through the empty halls. Strange, oscillating art pieces climb around on the walls. The walls themselves are made of wood, concrete, fence, steel wire, leaves, paper. There does not seem to be any coordination.

The crying sound grows louder.

Mother.

The name ricochets off the floor and dimly-lit ceiling. I do not know who is speaking, but the cries are full of a longing for that which is lost and can never be recovered.

I wake with a start. Someone is shaking me. It’s one of the bellboys who work in the building’s front.

“Mr. Blanche wants to see you,” he says.

I sit up. This is the first time in two weeks that he’s wanted to speak to me personally. Though he appeared fine at the party after the defeat of the S-class portal, since then he has slipped into a deep depression. Alice still hasn’t woken up from her coma. I know now that Crayton’s wife died, and Alice opened the portal because she was trying to resurrect her. Losing the only memory he has of his wife has really shaken Crayton up. Plus, you know, Alice is his daughter.

I take the elevator to the building’s penthouse. It’s been a while since I was up here.

When I open the door I am hit with a wave of putrid stench. Trash bags, TV dinner boxes, and dirty dishes are stacked in piles all around the living room. I make my way through the maze, trying to find the door to the bedroom.

“Mr. Blanche?” I say, as I pick through the mountains of filth.

There is a sound from the bedroom. I knock on the closed door.

“Come in,” says Crayton. His voice is almost too soft for me to hear.

I open the door. The bedroom is worse than the living room. At least two dozen takeout boxes are stacked on the bed. The floor is covered in spilled—what, soda? Drink? Some sort of dark liquid.

Crayton himself is sitting in a lounge chair, watching home videos of Alice and, I assume, her mother. He doesn’t turn to look at me.

“Mr. Blanche?” I say. “You wanted to see me?”

“You heard it, didn’t you?” says Crayton.

“What, sir?” I ask.

“Her voice,” says Crayton. “Alice’s voice.”

I think back to the dream that I had sitting on the couch. “I think so, sir,” I say.

“She was crying,” says Crayton. “She was calling for help.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” I say.

“Get your network to figure that out,” says Crayton. “I’ve hired the best doctors. The best healers. The best of anything. Nothing works. She’s still … Sleeping.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I say. “I care about your daughter as well.”

Crayton says nothing. Instead, he reaches towards the half-full twelve-pack of beer by his chair and pops it open. He takes a long draught.

“I’ll do what I can, sir,” I say.

Crayton wipes the foam from his mouth. “I wanted to ask you,” he says. “How is the work with Rearden Metal going?”

I cringe. “I’m sorry, sir,” I say. “I haven’t been able to produce good results.”

Crayton turns towards me, looking at me for the first time. “Well, we can’t help that, can we?” he says. Then he turns his face back towards the TV.

The TV is showing a birthday party. Alice looks to be about ten. Her mother is stunningly beautiful. The kind of beauty that Alice will probably become when she’s twenty-five. Her mother is smiling, laughing, and I can tell why Crayton isn’t over her.

It looks like it’s Alice’s birthday. She blows out the candles, and then is presented with a veritable mountain of presents. Expensive dresses, collectors’ dolls, and lots of chocolate.

I turn my gaze away from the TV.

“Sir,” I say to Crayton. “You need to clean up your penthouse.”

Crayton waves his hand dismissively. “Just call the maid.”

“Why hasn’t she been coming?” I ask.

Crayton says nothing, only takes another draught of beer.

After a long pause, the home video ends. Crayton looks at me. “Save her,” he says, “And I’ll reward you with whatever you want. I have money. I have artwork. I have anything you could ever desire. Just save her!”

I nod. “I’ll work on something,” I say. Of course I’ve been racking my brains too to see if I can come up with something to save her. I’ve asked my devils and the new workers I gained from the S-class portal and no one has any clue why Alice is still asleep. Nothing we can do can help her.

“Is it okay if I visit her today?” I ask.

“Go ahead,” says Crayton.

I bow, and then back out of the room. I leave the penthouse and ride the elevator to the ground floor. When I get there, I head to the receptionist’s desk.

“Mr. Blanche has requested a maid to clean his penthouse,” I say.

The receptionist looks visibly relieved. “How did you get him to agree to that? He’s been rejecting all entry to his penthouse for the past three weeks, besides the takeout boy.”

“Well, I convinced him somehow,” I say. Then I pause. “Do you have the address where Mr. Blanche’s daughter is being held?”

The receptionist nods. “We just received word a minute ago to give it to you. Hold on.”

I hold on. After thirty seconds of rummaging the receptionist hands me a piece of paper with the hospital and room number on it.

I take the paper and walk out of the building.

Sebastian, I call, through the magic phone line I keep on me. Come pick me up.

Five minutes later my limo arrives. Sebastian steps out and holds the door open for me.

“Master,” he says.

I step in, handing him the paper. “Take me to this hospital.”

The trip takes less than ten minutes. Almighty Mercy Hospital is a towering structure with at least ten floors and a huge footprint. Sebastian drops me at the entrance roundabout and I pat myself down to make sure I’m looking okay.

I ask the nurse at the front desk to point me to Alice’s room. Once I get the number and permission to visit, I take the elevator to the long-term care ward.

Alice’s room is in the middle of the hall. I knock gently on the door. There is no answer.

I open the door and step in. Alice is laying in the room’s bed, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling slowly. She is hooked up to an IV and a bunch of other equipment. This is the first time I’ve seen her since the portal opened.

I sit on a chair beside her bed, and take hold of her hand.

“You did it for your mother, didn’t you?” I say, not expecting a response. “I can understand that.”

Portals are dangerous things anyways. It’s not her fault that this S-class portal existed. If it wasn’t her, I’m sure someone would have opened it eventually.

Alice’s eyes flicker underneath her closed eyelids. She is clearly dreaming about something.

A couple of images flash past my eyes. Blood. A searing crash, glass shattering. Then the images go away.

Is she trying to tell me something?

Whatever it is, I can’t understand it. I spend five more minutes watching her eyes flicker and then stand up. “I was told to look for a cure for you,” I say. “I’m going to find it. You and your father will be back together.”

I have forgiven her for using me on that date three weeks ago. I know she did it because she wanted her mother back.

I leave the room and close the door behind me.

A man wearing a black suit and a fedora is leaning against the wall outside the hospital room.

“Are you ready to make a choice?” he says.

I shake my head. “Um, who are you?”

“Just an agent,” says the man. “Nothing important.”

I frown. “Am I ready to make a choice about what?” I ask.

“White or black,” says the man. “Make a decision soon.”

The world folds around in front of me and, with a shimmer, the man is gone.

I am left wondering what in the world he meant. Was I hallucinating?

Anything is possible in this brave new world.

I leave the hospital in worse spirits than when I arrived. Both the appearance of the strange man and Alice’s vision in my head have taken their toll on my mood. Sebastian is waiting for me next to my limousine.

“Have you been waiting long?” I ask him.

Sebastian shakes his head. “Not long at all,” he says. He opens the door for me and closes it after I get in.

Somewhere in the city, police sirens are wailing. A lot of them. Is something happening?

“What’s going on?” I ask, to Sebastian.

“There was a robbery at the National Gallery,” says Sebastian. “A portal artifact of great worth was stolen.”

I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This sounds a lot like what happened with the S-class portal.

Black and white. I have a feeling that this robbery is linked to what that man in a fedora told me.

A shadow falls over the limo. A body slams into the windshield, and Sebastian stops us with a violent motion. My neck is jerked forwards and backwards.

The man on the windshield is wearing a white tee shirt and jeans. The windshield, being bulletproof, hasn’t cracked.

Sebastian pulls the car to the side of the road and gets out.

I am about to step out as well when Sebastian puts his hand out.

“It’s dangerous, master,” he says.

I stay in the limo.

The man’s body begins flashing like a Mario Kart bomb. I flinch.

The body explodes with a cartoonish blast of red and yellow. The limo’s airbags expand, and the window is blown off. A white, tingling powder floats through the air and coats my body. I am left coughing, feeling as if I’ve swallowed a mouthful of dirt.

Confetti fills the limo’s interior. I pick up a piece of it. It’s got a smley-face emoji and the words “Hi! I’m Generica!” written on it.

I let the confetti fall to the ground.

Sebastian opens the limousine door, clearly flustered. “I’m sorry, master!” he says. “I failed!”

I shake my head, still trying to spit out the taste of dust. “No, it wasn’t your fault.” I pick up a piece of the confetti. “Do you know who Generica is?”

Sebastian’s face turns white. “Master, were did you learn that name?”

I hand him the piece of confetti.

Sebastian shakes his head. “That is not someone you would be wise to interact with.” He crumples the confetti in his hand. “I would suggest you forget this name immediately.”

“Am I in danger?” I ask.

“Not with your loyal servants around,” says Sebastian. “We will keep you away from this … Individual.”

I look at where the body hit the windshield. “Was that an actual person?” I ask.

Some of the people who had been walking by when the body fell have stopped and are staring at us. There is a bloodstain on the concrete, but no body, and a whole bunch of confetti.

“Someone call the police,” I say. “I think someone committed suicide.”

There is a hushed wave of whispers among the bystanders.

I catch sight of the same man in a fedora who greeted me at the hospital. Before I can call out, he slips into an alleyway.

“Excuse me for a moment,” I say to Sebastian, as I push through the crowd to get to the alley.

“Wait, master!” says Sebastian. “Don’t follow him!”

But I am in the alleyway before Sebastian can push through the crowd.

The man in the fedora is sitting in a fire escape, looking down at me.

Sebastian stops behind me. “Master,” he says. “Who is this?”

The man in the fedora tips his hat. “Mandrake Sommelio. Member of the White Silverbones.”

Sebastian’s face goes ghastly pale. “Silverbones?” he says.

I shake my head, holding out my arm in front of Sebastian. “Let’s hear what he has to say,” I say.

Several police cars pull up next to where the man fell. Sebastian looks back. “I’m having some other operatives deal with the police,” he says. He turns to me. “If you want to follow this man somewhere where we can converse, I would not stop you.”

The man in the fedora drops down from the fire escape. He brushes off his suit. “Well then. Since you seem to be cooperating, I’ll lead you to a special place.”

Mandrake begins walking backwards through the alley, both his hands on his suit.

Sebastian and I follow him. We go through the alley until we come through the other side. Mandrake leads us to a small, run-down tenement along a busy side street. We go up a thin Victorian-era staircase and enter a tiny little apartment with just three rooms. The living room is meticulous, with a couch, a recliner, and an old television.

Mandrake sits on the arm of the recliner, holding his hands together. He snaps his finger and a soft bubble expands, covering the room’s walls.

“This is a safe house,” says Mandrake. He pulls a bottle of wine, which appears to be a lever. Two of the apartment’s walls turn over to reveal a smorgasbord of adventuring weapons. “I’d suggest you keep this place in the back of your minds as you go forwards. The Darks are after you. They’ll give you an offer that you can’t refuse. I want to make you an offer first, before they do.” He taps his fingers on the coffee table next to the chair. “There’s not much that material wealth will do for you,” says Mandrake. “And we don’t have anything else of worth that we can give you. If you do decide to side with the Brights, your only reward will be your conscience. That is our offer to you.”

A flash of a moaning wail echoes through my head. I again see, slightly, the maze that I dreamed of earlier. Then my mind snaps back to reality.

Mandrake appears troubled. “You hear it too?” he says. “The disturbance in the ether?”

“I do,” I say.

Mandrake nods. “I see you are an anima spirit.”

“It’s been a while since someone has called it that,” I say, “But yes.”

“And with your considerable and varied powers, you are choosing to masquerade as a conjurer?” says Mandrake.

“Um, yeah,” I say. “I guess I can’t fool you.”

“You can’t,” says Mandrake. “I’ve done my research.”

“Do you know anything about Generica?” I ask.

“She’s a real bad Dark One,” says Mandrake. “Has a nasty habit of blowing people up. Filling them with all kinds of things. Worms, and razor blades, and burning embers. Very painful.”

I cringe. “So the Darks are the bad guys,” I say.

“I suppose you could call it that,” says Mandrake. “But, at the same time, they do provide for their own. And they are willing to do things that we Brights are not.”

“Well, it’s obvious who I’d choose,” I say.

Mandrake shakes his head. “That’s what everyone but the most psychopathic say before they join the Darks.”

I am troubled. “So they’ll offer me something I can’t refuse,” I say.

“At the very least, something that you will have a hard time rejecting,” says Mandrake. “There’s a nasty bugger, Elina is her name, she can tell what anyone wants most, deep down in the depths of their soul.” Mandrake turns around, pointing to the rack of weapons. “I suppose you wouldn’t need any of these weapons, considering your ability to conjure anything you can imagine.” He sighs. “We’re all powerful here. There are six Brights and eleven Darks in this world. All of them are converging on London because of you.”

“And together you constitute the Silverbones?” I say.

Mandrake snorts. “I suppose so,” he says. Then he looks longingly through the window. “I suppose so.”

The windows shatters, a bullet flies through the room, and Mandrake catches it between two fingers. He examines it, and whistles.

“Well, the game has started then!” he says.

The Lesser One Arc 1: Last Chapter: Ghost

Ghost

I wake up to a doorbell ringing. When I stand up, I realize all my clothes from yesterday are still on, complete with bloodstains. I want to change, but I have to answer the door first. It’s probably nothing.

I open the door to reveal a man in a bright red bellboy’s shirt. He bows and hands me two envelopes.

“I have been sent from her majesty’s court,” he says. “Please respond as soon as possible.” He then bows again and turns around.

I close the door, holding two envelopes in my hands. Both of them are marked with a royal seal.

I open the first.

You have been cordially invited to a specially scheduled Garden Party to celebrate the taming of Portal U-375. Present this invitation at the door.

Below is an address that I recognize to be Buckingham Palace.

Well then. They said there would be a party.

The next envelope is also from the Queen. It requests an audience tomorrow at two. I can make that!

The party is tonight. Before then, I have to fulfill my contract with Esmex, though at this point it feels a little bit anticlimactic considering what I’ve been through recently.

I take a hot shower, change into some clothes I find folded next to my bed, and make sure to put on deodorant. I walk out of the room and take the elevator to the floor with my lab. Since this is the Esmex building, I don’t even have to leave it.

Two conjurers are already there. The rest arrive before the day officially starts, and I spend the rest of my working hours trying to teach these people how to make Rearden Metal.

I think they’re showing promise!

When I return to my apartment after the working day is over, I see a formal dress neatly folded on the table in the living room. I put it on and look at myself in the mirror. I look a lot better than I thought I would, though I’m still not satisfied with my hairstyle.

Oh well. I’ll get someone to fix it eventually. I head to the elevator.

Sebastian meets me in the entrance lobby. He bows. “Master,” he says.

I follow him into the limousine, and we drive through London until we reach Buckingham Palace. There are already a lot of fancy cars waiting to drop off their important people.

I am dropped off at the entrance to the palace. A pair of men dressed in red uniforms escort me to the garden inside the castle. There are already several dozen dignitaries and high-level adventurers milling about, drinking fine wine and eating hors d’ouevres.

I see Crayton, but I don’t see Alice. I approach Crayton and greet him politely.

“Ah, Markus,” says Crayton. “I assume you want to know how Alice is doing.”

I nod. It’s no use beating around the bush. “Is she okay?” I say.

Crayton shakes his head. “She took a huge blast of psionic energy. She should be medically fine, but she just won’t wake up.” He shakes his head, though I can tell he is very, very worried about her. Then he seems to brighten up a bit. “I hear your efforts with Rearden Metal are coming to fruition,” he says.

I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “I think at least some of the conjurers you hired are getting it.”

“Well, then keep at it,” says Crayton. He seems to want to avoid talking about anything but superficial things regarding Alice.

I don’t know what to talk about next. The party seems to be going well, and everyone looks happy, but I have a feeling that everything here is fake and plastic. But what could I expect? This is high English society at its finest.

A man wearing a tan suit approaches me. He extends his hand, a smile on his face.

“I’m Raputin Drommel,” he says.

I shake his hand.

Raputin nods. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Everyone is talking about what you did for the country. And you’re from America! I never knew those Yankees had it in them!”

“Well, we did win both World Wars,” I say, mostly intending it as a joke.

Raputin frowns for a split second and then is smiling at me again. “Ha! A fine sense of humor we have here.” He tilts his head. “So tell me. How did a young man, so clearly still in high school, attain the sought-after designation as an S-class adventurer?”

“I killed a balrog,” I say. “With a little help. A, uh, Dungeon Striker missile did most of the work, but I was the one who pointed it.”

Raputin gives me a false grin. “Very interesting! I’ll do my best to convince the government to invest in more of those! I heard they were very instrumental at the Battle of Crickhowell?”

I am about to shake my head, but then think better of it. I don’t want to reveal how small the effect of those super-expensive missiles was against an army of A-class monsters. I certainly don’t want to burst the military’s bubble and discourage more research into anti-dungeon monster technology.

I do my best to smile. “Yes, they certainly turned the tide.” I pause. “I recognize you. You were at the battle, right?”

“Just for a moment,” says Raputin. “I’m the guild leader of the Green Blazes. They evacuated me when it got too hectic.” He sighs. “I wish I could have seen those beautiful Dungeon Striker missiles in action.” He winks at me. “I helped design them, after all.”

“Just a little bit,” says another man, who approaches from the center of the garden. He extends his hand. “Icarus Oppenburg. Leader of the Rocking Shooters’ Guild.” He puts his arm around Raputin. “Don’t listen to this man’s bragging. He barely did anything for the Dungeon Striker program.”

Raputin seems to be taking the downsizing well. “Ha! And you didn’t do anything,” he says. “At least my guild fought better than yours at the battle!”

Icarus smirks. “Of course, my good sir,” he says. “But our guild had the oh-so-important job of evacuating citizens. How many peoples’ lives did you directly save by charging in there like a mad beast?”

Raputin winks. “More than you would imagine,” he says. “My guild is formed of only the best adventurers!” He looks at me with a strange expression. “Would you like to join the Green Blazes?”

I shake my head. “I’ve already made a deal with the Blue Dryads. Plus, I belong to another guild back home, the Riding Valkyries.”

“Pah,” says Raputin. “That corporate bunch leading the Blue Dryads has no soul. They’re like the McDonalds’ of adventuring guilds,” he says. “And I don’t know anything about American guilds, but I don’t recognize the Riding Valkyries.”

“You wouldn’t,” I say. “It’s a small guild.”

Raputin frowns. “You’re an S-class adventurer,” he says. “You should be with a big, famous, and well-led guild. Like mine!”

Icarus shakes his head. “No, your guild isn’t as famous as mine,” he says.

“When you read the last guild popularity poll,” Raputin says, “The Green Blazes top the Rocking Shooters!”

“That was a recent upset!” says Icarus. “The Rocking Shooters have been on top a lot more than you!’

I bow, and retreat from the oncoming storm, taking it upon myself to wander around the garden’s edges. The people at this party seem to be ignoring me for the most part. Perhaps I just don’t have the pedigree to deal with these kinds of people. I’m a commoner from America and I don’t understand how British high society works.

A man wearing a normal-looking suit approaches me. He stands next to me without saying anything, sipping champagne out of a glass.

“You have qualified,” he says, after a long pause. “You must choose a side. White or Black.”

I turn to ask him what he means, but he is gone, like a ghost.

And I am left wondering what will happen next.

Special: On Trump's Impeachment

I don't know anything about whatever Trump did in Ukraine. Apparently he, um, pressured the Ukranian government into doing an investigation? And then "Obstructed" the senate when they were trying to investigate?

Whatever. The point of the matter is that public opinion isn't, as far as I know, against Trump because of what he did. They're against him by principle. This is what makes Trump's impeachment different from Nixon's and Clinton's. In both those cases, there was a scandal and people hated an originally (at least somewhat) likable president because of what he did. In this case, no one even cares emotionally about some random Ukranian investigation--even if the media says it's an abuse of power. Instead, they hate Trump for being Trump. He represents their knee-jerk reaction to having their values interrogated.

In order to avoid a possible wave of hate for simply supporting one side of an argument over another, I'm going to say here that I don't care who's president! As long as they maintain the American Dream of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness, I don't care who it is. I just want to live my life being able to get a burger at Burger King, work towards my personal goals, and not be deprived of basic necessities like what's happening in Venezuela.

I just read "The Grace of Kings" by Ken Liu. It was good, a pretty cool story.

But there was one scene that really got to me. One of the courtiers that wanted a bid for power brought a deer into the throne room and called it a horse. Anyone who said it was a deer was killed. Anyone who called it a horse was spared. And, from that point on, the deer was a horse.

A good analogy of what's happening nowadays. People are calling "deer" "horses." I won't say what I'm describing in fear of (admittedly ironic) retribution, but I just want to make it plain that losing everything because of an opinion you hold is stupid and Orwellian.

Let's make an example. If there is a green square, and someone tells you it is yellow, they are expressing an opinion. You can disagree with them, and point out everything that proves it is green, but in a true world with free speech you cannot punish that person for believing that a green square is yellow.

That is the basis of America's First Amendment. It doesn't matter if they're wrong. As long as it doesn't cause harm to an individual (and that harm has to be decided upon by a jury), anyone can believe anything.

If you believe you have been wronged by someone's words, sue them. That is what the court system is for. Simply punishing someone for holding an opinion different from yours and the mainstream's, even if it is wrong, is a corruption of the American ideal.

Thus, we get to Trump. Trump's very existence seems to be hated by a good portion of the American people. Why? I don't understand! Everything he does is scrutinized like no other president before him!

I think the fall of the Soviet Union and the death of Osama Bin Laden has had the opposite of a "silver lining." We have no one left to hate. We have no enemy to bring us together. And so we create one. We create a conflict because, for some reason, us humans have to have an enemy we are facing up against. It seems to me like there will always be a bad guy whom the public hates and tries to defeat, no matter if they really exist.

Whatever. I'm making the disclaimer here that I really, really don't want to ignite a stupid petty argument where people spit out party lines on either side. While I lean to the right in my proclivities, I am only on the side of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. For myself and for everyone. Anything that defeats that purpose is, to me, the bad guy.

Take that how you will.

TLO: Chapter 26: Passion

Passion

I am sitting, tied up, in a mafia van. Three Shinigami are watching me. I have nowhere to go from here. This is the end.

As I am rocking back and forth, I hear a screaming coming from far away. It is a familiar sound, one that I remember from just a day or two ago.

It’s Rarden.

The van jerks to the side. The three Shinigami stand up, but before they can do anything, three spearheads shoot out of the sides of the van and pin then to the walls.

The van’s back doors open. The sound of screaming reverberates through the air, and I am faced with Rarden, who steps up into the vehicle.

“I’m glad I made it,” he says.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

Rarden shakes his head. “I missed my flight. I had nothing else to do.” He has a mischievous expression on his face.

I step out of the van and onto the ground. “Where’s Sebastian?” I ask.

The other mafia van, the one that was holding Sebastian, is a burning ball of fire. Sebastian approaches me from the other side of the van I just exited.

“Master, I apologize for being so weak,” he says.

I shake my head. “No, I was the weak one,” I say. “Where’s Gena?”

“Right here,” says Gena, walking around the side of the van. “You will regret this,” she says. She holds a rifle up to me. Unlike the portal beings who serve me, I have no natural protection against modern weapons.

Rarden puts his hand on my shoulder. “Let me handle this,” he says.

The screaming starts up again in earnest. The sound is powerful enough to hurt my ears.

Gena fires off several shots at Rarden. The screaming spirits around Rarden’s body reflect the bullets, sending them pinging into the side of the van.

Rarden stabs Gena through the chest with a sword he pulls out of the spirits. Gena spits blood and collapses. The black bone sword drops from her belt.

A military helicopter is roving overhead, some distance away. I pick up the black bone sword and turn to Sebastian.

“Call that helicopter somehow!” I yell. “We need to get to the portal!”

Sebastian puts his hand to his ear. “I’ve got our agents in the military to give them a command,” he says.

A Shinigami charges at us from the other van. Sebastian turns around and puts the monster in a headlock.

“Your master is dead,” says Sebastian. “You have no reason to fight anymore.”

The Shinigami growls. “We made a contract.”

Sebastian tightens his grip. “You can serve a new master. Isn’t that how we work?”

The Shinigami goes limp. “Our loyalty is not that cheap.”

Sebastian taps the monster on the head. His eyes roll backwards and he slumps to the ground. “They’ll come around eventually,” says Sebastian. He lets go of the monster.

The military helicopter approaches from above, stirring up a violent wind. It lands next to the two burnt-out mafia vans.

A soldier leans out of the helicopter.

“Are you the one we’re picking up?” he says. “I just got the big wigs on the line. They say to bring you to the portal.”

I climb on board the helicopter. Rarden follows.

Sebastian bows. “I will take care of the remainders of Brine Ward,” he says, over the sound of the helicopter. He steps back from the bird.

The helicopter lifts off, and the ground falls away beneath me. We start flying straight towards the area where the portal opened up.

As we approach from the sky, I can see the hundreds of monsters spreading out through the countryside. It appears that most of the land surrounding Crickhowell is a national park. This is lucky, as the monsters haven’t yet invaded a heavily populated area.

We fly over a forest until we reach the location of the portal. I catch sight of the aircraft-carrier size mammoth in the distance, as well as the trail of broken trees it has left.

“Land us near the portal!” yells Rarden.

I grip the bone sword in my hands. It is cold, and heavy.

The helicopter lands in the park where the portal has opened. Monsters still spill out of its depths, but they form an open area for us to land.

I hold up the bone sword. It is sucked out of my hands by a violent gust. The portal swallows it, and then explodes into a shining rain of glitter.

Every single monster stops.

“They’ve stopped!” I hear a military man say, over the helicopter’s radio. “What the bloody hell happened?”

The whole world is silent.

Then, the portal monsters turn to me.

“Master,” says one of the alligator men who has just come from the portal. The monster bows to me.

“You were the one who returned the artifact,” says a baboon that is two meters tall. “You can give us a command. At your word, we will return to where we came.”

I nod. “Return.”

The two dozen monsters in the park bow to me. “As you wish. We shall watch the one who gifted us and protect them.”

It’s at this point that Gena would probably enslave the monsters to her will. However, I’m of the belief that I already have way too much power. Gaining the entire contents of an S-class portal as minions would just be too much. I don’t even have a temptation to keep any more than a token number of monsters for myself. All I want is to live happily and maybe win a competition or two.

“You may return,” I say. “Except for a couple of you. I’d love to make a few friends.”

The monsters bow again. “We shall return to where we came from,” says the alligator man. “Though we shall leave some of our strongest warriors with you in thanks for releasing us.”

The monsters around the park begin returning to the portal, which is a lot less powerful-looking then before.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be the master of an army of monsters?” says Rarden, as the monsters around us return to the portal.

I shake my head. “I already have a pretty powerful army on my side,” I say. “Also, I don’t know what I’d do with command over the contents of an S-class portal. I mean, what, would I want to conquer the world or something? That’s just stupid. I’m happy to play video games and eat chips while sitting at my desk. Maybe win a few conjuring contests.”

Rarden smiles. “That’s how I thought. But no one would believe me.” He claps me on the back. “You’ve done the world a great favor, kid,” he says.

I do my best to smile. “Yeah!” I sigh. “I still have to teach a bunch of conjurers to create Rearden Metal. That’s going to be hard.”

The alligator man has not left yet. He is still bowing.

“What?” I say, looking at him.

The alligator man looks up at me. “Your orders.”

I sigh. “Just, find a way to make the world a better place.”

“As you wish,” says the alligator man. The various monsters in the park disperse.

“I wonder who was controlling them before?” I say, wondering aloud. “If they’re so compliant after their, uh, artifact is returned, I wonder who was the one who commanded them to take over the world?”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” says Rarden. He shrugs. “All I know is that the key to that portal has been passed from hand to hand for a long time.”

Not very many monsters are entering the portal. I assume this is because I told them to “make the world a better place.” Did they take that seriously?

Well, whatever. I turn to Rarden and the soldier in the helicopter. “Do you mind giving me a ride to London?” I say. I am tired. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours. I need to head to the apartment Crayton prepared for me.

Crayton … Crayton … Alice! I turn to the portal so quick I crack my neck.

There she is. Alice. She’s laying on the ground at the edge of the portal. I walk over to her and kneel beside her. Her pulse is slow, but still there. She’s also breathing.

Her eyes flutter open. “Mom?” she says.

I shake my head. “Gena tricked you,” I say. “Your mother is still dead.”

Alice’s head falls limp. Her eyes close, and tears fall down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. I just wanted my mom to come back.”

A helicopter flies overhead and lands in the park. Crayton and two men in black step out.

Crayton’s face lights up when he sees Alice. He runs to where I am holding her and picks her up. Giving her a huge hug, he then turns to me.

“You’ve done something for me that I’ll never be able to repay,” he says.

I shake my head. “I don’t need to be repaid. All I need is for everything to go back to normal.”

Crayton looks at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “Then we’ll do that. You can spend two more months here, teaching my conjurers about Rearden Metal.” He pauses. “But I’m not going to let you go that easy. I need to reward you somehow.”

I shrug. “I don’t know, let me date Alice?”

Crayton’s smile falters. Then he seems to break on the inside.

“Okay. I give you my permission to date my daughter. But you have to take care of her. Don’t lead her on, don’t hurt her.”

Alice is still unconscious in Crayton’s arms. She probably wouldn’t want to hear this, anyways.

“I guess this is it, huh?” I say.

Crayton lowers his head. “I’ve given up on my ambitions to join …”

“You can say it,” I say. “Silverbones, right?”

Crayton cringes. “Quiet!” he says. He looks around, seeming relieved. “Good thing no one heard that.” He looks more nervous than I’ve ever seen him.

“What about that … Organization is so special?” I ask.

Crayton shakes his head. “Don’t. You don’t want to know. The knowledge will consume you.” His eyes are looking far away. “I’ve decided that my daughter is more important than immortality.” He smiles at me. “Thank you.”

Rarden walks up and claps me on the shoulder. “Hey, man! You saved the day!”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I did.” I sigh, looking at Crayton and Alice. “I guess now everything is going back to normal.” I survey the wreckage around the park, including dead bodies.

The bone sword must have been the same kind of thing Japan and Mongolia used to defeat their S-class portals.

I’m just glad that the UK is still a thing.

A government helicopter rotates overhead, looking for a place to land among the helicopters that are already here.

The helicopter lands. A figure steps out, one that I won’t ever forget.

The Queen of England! Holy beans, this is amazing!

The Queen approaches me with all the dignity I would expect of her. She is flanked by a dozen guards.

She stops in front of me. “Markus, right?” she says.

I nod. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“England is forever in your debt. Not only did you tame an S-class portal, you also removed a thorn in the government’s side in the form of Brine Ward. I don’t know what we can do to thank you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need anything, your majesty,” I say. “I’m happy to just go back to school.”

The queen smiles. “Very well. You are always welcome here, and we will be waiting for you to decide what we should reward you with, if you ever decide.” She turns around, and heads back to the helicopter.

That was quick. Well, I suppose the queen has a very busy schedule, especially with the wreckage caused by that portal.

I see that Rarden and Crayton are looking at me with the most incredulous faces I have ever seen. What, is meeting with the queen such a big deal?

“Bloody hell …” says Rarden. He looks at Crayton.

Crayton shakes his head.

One of the men in black remains. He bows to me. “We would much like to show you better hospitality than this, but our queen is very busy at the moment. You will receive formal invitation to both an audience and a celebration for your deeds. You will also be given the title of Psionic Knight and awarded with the Adventurer’s Cross.”

Okay, wow. That’s a lot to take in. I’ll probably be immersed in polite society again like before, but, well, I suppose I can handle that.

The queen boards the helicopter and the vehicle rises into the sky.

I turn to Rarden and Crayton. Both of them share a glance. Then Crayton does his best to grin at me.

“Well then,” says Crayton. “I suppose now we should just go home?” He points to the helicopter he arrived on. “I can give you a ride.”

I nod. “Okay,” I say.

I follow Crayton onto the helicopter. He is still holding Alice in both hands. Crayton turns to me. “Of course,” he says, “I can’t control my daughter’s love life.” He seems to be continuing from before.

Then the helicopter’s blades drown out all conversation.

We land on top of the Esmex corporation building an hour later. Crayton steps off, still carrying Alice. I follow him.

Crayton walks into the building. A man in black holds out his arm.

“Mr. Blanche has instructed me to lead you to your apartment,” he says.

I nod and follow this man into the building. We take an elevator to the twentieth floor and step out.

There is a small hallway with a single door at its end.

“This is your apartment,” says the man in black.

“You mean, this whole floor?” I ask.

“Yes,” the man in black says, looking a little confused. “Isn’t that what you’re used to?”

I shake my head. “I only got rich recently.”

The man in black nods knowingly. “Well then. Enjoy your stay.” He steps back into the elevator.

I open the door and walk into a gigantic living room with an entire wall of windows looking out over the London skyline. It’s a beautiful place. The furniture is modern, there is a full kitchen, and there are several pieces of art hanging that I assume are worth a whole bunch of money.

I sit down on the fancy couch and breath a sigh of relief. Before I know it, I am asleep.

My usual dream world is a lot more crowded than it was before. I almost groan, as I realize that a good portion of the monsters who I turned using the bone sword have entered my personal dimension somehow. How am I supposed to work with this? There are alligator men, monkeys, automatons, and who knows what other kinds of beasts. There are also the boss monsters, at least six of them, including the gigantic aircraft-carrier size mammoth.

Jirgrar appears before me and bows. “We tried to keep these outsiders away,” he says, “But we were unsuccessful. They insisted on serving you. As if you needed any more help.”

For once, I agree with Jirgrar. I don’t know how I’m going to handle having power over the entire contents of an S-class portal.

This was what Gena was after, anyways. What I’m wondering is why she didn’t open the portal herself.

I ask Jirgrar the question.

Jirgrar shakes his head. “Gena did not want to risk her life. Opening a dormant portal is very taxing, and could put your life in danger.”

“So Alice braved that,” I say.

Jirgrar bows. “I am sorry to inform you, but Alice is probably not going to recover from the stress of opening that portal.”

I feel a sinking in my stomach. “What happened?”

“Portals give off a huge pulse of psionic energy when they open. Anyone near will go into psionic shock. The D-class portals you’re used to will cause no more than a slight headache,” Jirgrar says. “But, an S-class portal is on a whole different scale.”

“So Alice may not recover,” I say.

“Even if she did,” says Jirgrar, “She may never be the same.”

I am devastated. I don’t know why, but I feel like I’ve lost something important. “So she’ll be disabled,” I say.

Jirgrar shakes his head. “I do not know, master,” he says.

I sigh. “Well, then we’ll just have to see what happens.”

Jirgrar nods. “Yes. One more question before I let you rest. What would you like us to do with all the new followers you have?”

“Just put them to good use making the world a better place,” I say.

Jirgrar bows. “As you wish,” he says.

And I fall into a much deeper sleep.

The Lesser One: Chapter 25: Deal

Deal

The wall that will surround the S-class portal in the park is nearing construction. It’s been five hours since we exited after taking over thirty casualties. Rows of body bags line the edge of the grass and are being handled by the local police force.

Firemen, the military, and SWAT teams are standing by to engage. There are hundreds of people milling around, preparing for the moment that will come in five hours, when the portal prolapses.

I wonder what Alice is doing inside there. My anima vison picked up a faint residue left by her passing inside the dungeon’s first level. It was almost too faint for me to notice, but when we were pulling out, I determined that it must have been her.

I sit on a bench next to Derwyn, Tonan, and Jozunen. We are simply waiting for what is to come. Not much needs to be said. As the two S-class adventurers here, it is our job to be the spearhead when the portal releases its contents into the world.

Carl approaches us.

“The military has been able to acquire two Dungeon Striker missiles,” he says.

He hands a spotting device to me and the other to Derwyn.

“You two are most likely to survive in an all-out battle. Since portal beings don’t appear on electronic sensors, you’re going to have to guide these missiles. The device should give you the exact time the missile is bound to strike. Make sure to take down the biggest baddies you can.” He nods. “Make them count.”

I turn to Derwyn. His expression is serious. I know that many people are likely to die during this encounter. It is technically my fault, but I don’t need to think about what could have happened. Instead, I need to face forward and deal with the problems at hand.

The box around the portal is capped with a thick barrier of rolled steel. I hold the missile spotting device in my hand, remembering the feeling back before I defeated the balrog.

This “Dungeon Striker” missile couldn’t take down a high A-class monster completely, even with a direct strike. How is it going to deal with an S-class?

Whatever the case, this is our best bet, besides building another Sou’frican wall. I don’t think the UK would appreciate a large swath of its land being controlled by portal monsters. Plus, walls like that are expensive to build.

There is a “arm” button on the spotter. Presumably, once I press that button, the missile will be fired from whatever plane is carrying it up above the clouds.

The night summer heat, boosted by moonlight, reflects off the sheet steel that is being used for the containment box. Dozens of workers are welding pieces together, building layers above the already completed first box. The foundations for five layers of steel have been laid. Once the monsters break through the first container, they will face four more steel walls.

More tanks roll up next to the park. Attack helicopters rove around the suburban homes. Hundreds of soldiers arrive in armored personnel carriers, taking up firing positions and building foxholes. The atmosphere hangs on a wire.

The guilds Green Blazes and Rocking Shooters arrive, each guild fielding about sixty adventurers. That brings our total to almost two hundred. A good portion of those are A-class.

We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.

I count down the minutes, then hours. My internal energy battery begins to fill up again.

About an hour before the portal is due to open, I stand from the bench. Dawn has come, and the light of the new day shimmers.

“I need to take care of something,” I say, getting up from the bench.

Derwyn nods, not asking questions. Tonan follows me as I walk behind a house and fence.

I’ve never summoned all my devils at once. I have about one hundred and fifty left inside my personal pocket dimension.

Tonan doesn’t speak, instead just nodding at me.

I summon my devils in groups of five. It takes about half an hour before they are mostly summoned. I keep a group of ten to be my bodyguards, so that I can summon them when I need them, but the rest are out there in the world now.

The devils I summoned aren’t going to join the defense around the portal. That would raise too many questions. Instead, they are taking positions around the town and surrounding countryside. They will act as an unseen barrier to defend against the onslaught of monsters, and probably work behind the scenes to coordinate a better defense.

I walk back around the hidden corner and return to the field. Less than half an hour remains before the portal prolapses. I sit down on the bench next to Derwyn.

Derwyn cracks his knuckles. “I’ve killed a lot of monsters in my career,” he says, “But I never thought I’d be fighting an S-class portal prolapsing in my own homeland.”

“You’re from Wales?” I say to Derwyn.

“Obviously,” he says. “My name’s Derwyn, after all.”

“You don’t have much of an accent,” I say.

“An American telling me that doesn’t flatter me,” Derwyn says, with a smile. He sighs, standing up. “I think we should do a bit of stretching before we put our lives on the line.”

I agree. I stand up with Derwyn and we do a couple of pre-workout stretches. This is the first time I’ve done something like this, but I need to do something to keep the feeling of dread from overwhelming me.

The soldiers surrounding the park look at me like I’m crazy. In my opinion, though, they’re the crazy ones for going up against A and S-class monsters with modern weaponry. Magic blocks all forms of weaponry invented after the middle ages, excepting the Dungeon Striker missiles, and those probably utilize some loophole.

So the main line of defense against the monsters will be the adventurers from the five guilds gathered here. There are also nearly two hundred adventurers who aren’t with their guild at this moment and answered the call for help. Most of them were already in the surrounding area. I mean, if they’re here, they might as well fight.

At least two thousand personnel end up encircling the locked-down dungeon, standing in co-centric circles. Fifty tanks and APCs have their main guns trained on the portal. Two dozen helicopters, both news and military, rotate around the park. Some attack aircraft are roving the skies, slipping in between clouds.

The portal prolapses. A huge “ding” sounds as the monsters inside fight the steel encasing them. The walls bulge outwards. The bulge gets bigger.

“Hold! Steady!” I hear the officers telling their men.

Two attack helicopters fly in low, their chain guns spinning.

The bulge blows out and a gorilla of King Kong proportions flies out in a spray of steel. He crushes a Challenger tank with one foot, sending a dozen soldiers flying.

I shoot at the monster, knowing that it’s probably futile. This giant gorilla is probably a high A-class.

Dozens of smaller monkeys, tigers, panthers, and anacondas spill out of the break.

The other side of the containment block blows out. A stone golem taller than a four-story building rises from the wreckage. Brass automatons march through the breach.

And then comes the S-class. A wooly mammoth the size of an aircraft carrier. It takes two whole minutes for its body to emerge from the portal, like a baby from a mother’s womb. Its trumpet is blisteringly loud.

The two A-class mini-bosses pave the way for the S-class floor boss. Tanks back up from them, as they leave gigantic footprints in the grass of the park. The gorilla topples the playground with a few steps.

I don’t even know how we’re going to begin to face this mess.

I aim the missile spotter at the mammoth’s head, right in between its eyes.

The missile strikes in less than thirty seconds. The whole park explodes in a blast of scorching fire.

 A minute later, the second missile strikes the stone golem.

And that’s that. Neither missile has resulted in a kill, and we’re losing dozens of people a minute.

Carl approaches me, dodging a blast of acid. “The government is evacuating the surrounding fifty kilometers. They’re going to enact Plan Orange.”

Derwyn’s face goes pale. I don’t know what “Plan Orange” is, but I take it that it’s horrific.

A helicopter goes down ten feet from us and explodes in a flash of metal and fire. A rotor blade flies past me. I duck, covering myself.

“What the hell is Plan Orange?” I say, as I duck.

Carl shakes his head. “The government is going to drop a nuke,” he says.

My face goes as pale as Derwyn’s. “No. That can’t happen!”

“Even an S-class can’t survive a nuclear fireball,” says Carl. He motions. “Come on. They’re getting the adventurers out in the armored personnel carriers.”

This is my fault. It’s all my fault that Wales is going to get nuked.

And what is going to happen to Alice? She’s inside that portal! Will she be turned into fiery dust?

I follow Derwyn to the APC. Just as I enter the back of the vehicle, I think I see Alice.

It’s probably just my imagination.

The door closes, and we drive away from the portal at full speed.

“They’re probably going to have to build a wall,” says Derwyn. “Those monsters may be kept a bay for a while by a nuclear explosion, but they will keep emerging afterwards. They tried nukes in Hawaii, but the portals survived.”

I had heard of that. The American government had nuked Hawaii three times, and the portal recovered the monster population in less than a week.

The nukes are only a patch. The monsters will return. Only Japan and Mongolia have ever defeated S-class portals, and no one knows how they did it. Perhaps they used the same method that Brine Ward used.

Brine Ward! They must have a solution to this! That blackened bone, it might have something to do with defeating the portal!

Jozunen is in the APC with me. I turn to him.

“Get someone important on the line,” I say. “I have a possible solution.”

Jozunen nods, and hands me the same kind of earpiece that Sebastian used.

Me: Jirgrar! I say. Put me in contact with Carl, the leader of the Blue Dryads!

Jirgrar: As you wish.

Two minutes later, a soldier hands me a satellite phone. “Someone important wants to talk to you,” he says.

I take the phone. “Carl!” I say.

“Markus, are you okay?” he says.

“Yes!” I say. “I’m safe. I have a way to beat the portal. At least, I think.”

Carl doesn’t speak for a moment. “What is it?”

“Do you know about Brine Ward?” I say.

“I think so,” says Carl. “The mafia family that wanted to open the portal. Why?”

“They had a solution!” I say. “They were going to open the portal and subdue the beings somehow!”

“I don’t think the government is going to be happy about cooperating with mafia,” says Carl. “But I’ll see what I can do.” He hangs up.

Five minutes later the same soldier hands me the phone. I pick it up.

“Markus Red,” says a deep, male voice. “I hear you have a solution to the portal problem.”

“Um, yes,” I say. “Who is this?”

“The Prime Minister,” says the voice.

Oh. Wow, okay. Calm down. Calm down.

“Do you know about Brine Ward?” I ask.

“I was briefed, yes,” says the Prime Minister. “What about it?”

“They had some sort of magical implement that they were going to use to subdue the portal,” I say.

There is a long pause. “Thanks. Your contribution will not be forgotten.” He hangs up.

Jirgrar: The government is making moves to negotiate with Brine Ward.

Me: This is fast! It hasn’t even been ten minutes!

Jirgrar: You underestimate the power of an entire government.

Me: So do you think they’ll be able to use that bone?

Jirgrar: It remains to be seen.

I turn to the soldier who handed me the phone.

“Thanks,” I say.

The soldier nods. “I hope my family isn’t in town. They live in the exclusion zone.”

“We might not have to drop a nuke,” I say. “There might be an alternative.”

 The soldier looks at me like I’m crazy. “That’s an S-class portal,” he says. “You saw that gigantic mammoth. Not to mention the golem and gorilla.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know for certain. But there is hope.”

The soldier looks as afraid as I am. He is shivering. “I never knew monsters could be that huge,” he says.

I cough. “I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve never seen anything that big. I mostly spent my time being a porter in D-class dungeons. Even the balrog I killed wasn’t nearly as big as that mammoth.”

The soldier leans against the hard wall of the APC.

The sound of a low-flying supersonic jet tears through the air. I hope they aren’t delivering the warhead now. We still have a chance if Brine Ward’s solution works.

Ten minutes pass. The APC stops. The doors open. We are several miles away from the portal at this point.

An armored car has pulled up next to the APC. Barley steps out, as well as Sebastian.

Sebastian bows. “Master, Brine Ward has requested your presence in the negotiations.”

I step out, nodding to Derwyn and Jozunen.

Derwyn waves. “Good luck,” he says. “The fate of Britain rests on you.”

Sebastian leads me into the government armored car. Barley sits in the front seat and I get into the back. There are two men in black beside me.

“We’re heading to a prearranged area picked by Brine Ward,” says Barley. “They requested you specifically.”

The government driver takes us to a small secluded plot of land, covered in dirty concrete and grass growing through cracks. Gena and three Shinigami are standing there.

Gena smiles as I get out of the vehicle.

“Did everything go as planned?” she says.

“As planned?” I say.

Gena smiles sweetly. “Did you really think that your invisibility trick fooled us?”

I am starting to sweat. “So you used me?” I say.

“Of course,” says Gena. “And you did a great job. I won’t make you a villain, but you did screw everything up in a glorious fashion.”

“Was Alice part of this?” I ask. Everything is falling apart.

Gena laughs. “Of course. I was the one who convinced her to open the portal. I promised that I’d be able to bring her mother back.” She scoffs. “A little airhead is what she is. Maybe she has financial smarts, but that doesn’t mean she has any wherewithal.”

I am ready to break down. “You mean, you used her too,” I say.

Gena shrugs. “I’m a mafia don. Of course I use people.” She turns to Barley, wearing a saccharin smile. “You can’t prosecute me. I’m going to make a deal with you. I stop the portal monsters from taking over a third of the United Kingdom. And, you give me and my organization amnesty.”

Barley is gritting his teeth. The two government agents beside him are equally frustrated.

Gena appears satisfied. “We’ll bring all the paperwork for you to sign. We’re going to turn into a legitimate corporation from here on out. Don’t worry. We won’t do anything stupid.”

Barley frowns. “So how are you going to defeat the portal monsters?” he says.

Gena motions, and Valya steps out from behind an old signpost. He is carrying a black sword.

Gena points to Valya. “Give it to me.”

Valya presents the blade to Gena. Gena swipes the blade back and forth. “This is the ruler’s blade,” she says. “The monsters of the Dominionia will bow before it.”

“So you’re going to have control over an army of monsters,” says Barley. “We can’t let you do that.”

“Would you rather Wales be overrun with beasts, and lose millions of your citizens in the process? Would you like to destroy part of your nation with nukes, only to still lose?”

Gena’s smile is dangerous. “I wasn’t the one to open the portal,” she says. “If you had let me keep the key, I would have gone along my way without causing billions of pounds in damage. This is all your fault, as you were the ones who sent Markus to infiltrate our compound and steal the key. We are not culpable.”

“But we can still prosecute you for what you’ve done!” says Barley.

Gena laughs. “Try it, and you’ll see a good portion of your population trampled under the feat of the monsters of Dominionia.”

Barley is in a quandary. He turns away. “I’ll get approval from the government. But, please, hurry. There are lives depending on this.”

Gena’s smile becomes even more dangerous. “After we sign the paperwork,” she says.

“Paperwork won’t protect you for long,” says Barley. “We’ll find a way to get you.” He steps into the government car. I am about to follow.

“No, you stay here,” says Barley. “Keep an eye on that wily worm. You and your network should be able to keep her from doing anything terrible.” He closes the car door, and they drive away.

I turn to Sebastian. “Um, so, are my agents doing okay?”

“No casualties yet,” says Sebastian. “Our network has mostly been evacuating citizens. Although we have power, we are not strong enough to fight the contents of an S-class portal on our own.”

That should be enough. Now to confront Gena. I turn to her. “You manipulated Alice,” I say.

Gena shrugs. “It’s all a game. You just have to know how to play it.” She runs her finger along the tip of the bone sword. “Alice was stupid to allow me to influence her.”

“You promised her something you can’t deliver!” I say. “You tricked her!”

Gena shows her teeth. “That, my dear, is the way of the world.”

I am shaking right now. If I had been offered the ability to revive my dead mother and believed it, what would I have done?

I can’t blame Alice for falling for a stupid trick like that.

But I have to know. “How did you know about Alice?” I say.

Gena begins pacing back and forth. “Do you really want to know?” she says.

I nod. “Tell me.”

“Well, it won’t hurt,” says Gena. “You see, I’ve been looking into you for quite some time. You’re a very interesting person, after all. A nobody with poor stats all around was able to defeat a balrog. I know that Dungeon Striker missile didn’t do the job. Those things are trash, not worth anything. They can barely kill a B-class.” Gena sits on an exposed piece of concrete. “And you were able to absorb a ten thousand year spirit without any acclimation and without suffering Pewter’s Syndrome.”

I turn my gaze away.

Gena continues. “And I knew that you would be able to help me in this. You were recognized as an S-class, and that excludes you from many laws that would have taken effect otherwise.” Gena rests her chin on her fist. “You are very lucky to be an S-class in this situation. Thus, you are a perfect agent.” The sides of her lips curl up. “I want to offer you what I offered your double back when you were wandering invisible around my compound. I want to offer you a deal.”

I shake my head. “I can’t deal with—”

Gena holds up her hand. “Don’t. Wait until I’m done giving you my offer.” She tilts her head. “I want entrance into—”

Gena says a word and I can’t understand it. Pain lances through my head. I grasp my temples and fall to my knees.

“Whoops,” says Gena. “Haha. I forgot about that effect.” She says another phrase. “There we are,” she says.

The pain is gone. I remember the word.

Silverbones.

Gena’s face lights up. “Yes, the Silverbones,” she says. “All of their members have immortality. But, one must earn entry. If three current members vote you in, you become immortal as well.” She looks at her fingernails. “Of course I want immortality. But more than that, I want power.” She runs her finger along her nails. “I want to be able to say something and have it happen.” She looks up at me. “Do you understand?” She then smiles sweetly. “I’m willing to help you get in yourself if you cooperate with me. All I need you to do is stand by and let things happen. You’ve already helped me enough.”

I shake my head. “I can’t make deals with a—”

Gena stands up, brushing her hands. “With a what?” she says. “A mafia boss?” She tilts her head, making eye contact with me. “You can’t defeat me. I have the key to ending the Dominionia portal’s prolapse. What difference does it make that all the monsters will answer to me if I use the object?”

I have a choice to make. Either I fight, or I stand by and watch as a Russian mafia boss obtains ultimate power.

I have made my choice. I approach Gena.

“I’m not going to bow to you,” I say.

Sebastian and three of my devils stand between me and Gena’s Shinigami.

Two dozen Shinigami appear out of nowhere and begin surrounding us. I can’t call back my devils—they are too far away.

“So you have made your choice,” says Gena. “I’m not going to kill you now, but mark my words. You will regret choosing this route.”

Sebastian turns to me. “I will die for you, master,” he says.

I nod. I summon the ten devils that are still inside of me.

At least fifty Shinigami against me and fourteen devils. This isn’t a fair match.

“Run,” says Sebastian.

I turn and run. There is no escaping it—I am at a loss.

The battle starts. The devils fight the Shinigami. Two devils die almost instantly, taking a Shinigami with them.

I burst through the edge of the battlefield. I am almost free.

My body freezes. A piece of netting weighed down with balls has caught me. I collapse into a heap on the ground.

Two Shinigami pick me up and bring me to Gena. Sebastian is kneeling beside her, his face covered in blood. Only five of my devils are still alive.

Gena looks at me, wearing a pleased expression. “If you don’t want your favorite servant to die, then call off the rest of your devils. We don’t want to fight more than we have to.”

I eye the black sword that is next to her. There’s no way I’m getting it anytime soon. I cringe.

“Call them off,” I say.

Sebastian looks devastated. “Master!” he says.

A Shinigami pushes him down. “No talking!” says the monster.

I cringe again. The ropes around me are tight.

Gena nods, satisfied. “Pick him up and put him in the car,” she says.

Two Shinigami pick me up and shove me into the back of an unmarked black van.

I don’t know where I’m going. All I know is that I failed.