The Lesser One Arc 2: Chapter 13: Decision

Decision

The mood at the lab is a bit subdued the next day. Everyone is doing their jobs, but there isn’t nearly as much conversation and banter as usual. I want to ask about what the problem is, but I don’t want to breach a topic that might be sensitive.

So, despite my misgivings, I push ahead with the schedule, trying to take advantage of the better focus afforded by the quiet. Two of the conjurers, Samantha and Lincoln, manage to create a good enough version of type 2 Rearden Metal. We’re getting ever closer to our production goal. I tell them to start producing large quantities of type 2 as practice. We probably won’t be selling that stuff yet, and I want to see if they can handle continuous work like that.

A good portion of my budget is reserved for food. Conjuring—for other people, at least—requires lots of calories of input. A normal conjurer working for eight hours under the lab’s conditions needs about six thousand extra calories to do their jobs without becoming anorexic.

And it can’t be just any food. It has to be both high in nutrients and high in calories. I would have settled for formula bars, but I know that eating is one of the things that brightens the day for a conjurer who’s been working for an hour and is very hungry. So, I prepared a number of surplus military MREs, and that seems to work well.

We settle down for the last meal of the day. I rip open my own MRE—I have to keep up the illusion that I’m expending lots of calories too—and we start chowing down. A couple of the conjurers trade menu items with each other.

The day ends on the same note that it began.

When I get out of the elevator on the bottom floor, Esla is leaning against the wall. She pulls away, a slight grin on her face.

“We’re going somewhere fun,” she says. She puts her arm around my back and leads me to the doorway.

Sebastian is sitting on a bench in front of the building, smoking his pipe. He puts it out and stands up.

“Where will you be going today?” he says.

Esla grins wider. “We’re going somewhere fun.”

“Very well,” says Sebastian. “Do you want to give me the address?”

“We’ll walk,” says Esla.

“If you say so,” says Sebastian. He sits back down on the bench and relights his pipe.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

Esla winks. “Like I said. Did you hear me the first time?” She turns around and starts walking.

I follow her. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” I ask.

“It’s close,” says Esla. “Don’t worry about it. I know what I’m doing. I’ve been to London several times before.” She spins on her heels. “And you’re going to love what I’m going to show you.”

I follow Esla along the sidewalk. It seems European cities were better built for walking traffic.

We come to a small, nondescript building and go down a series of stairs until we come to a door that appears to be the kind that hides a secret bar or club.

Esla pushes through and we enter. The thing I notice first is the music. It’s unlike any that I’ve ever heard before, a haunting version of rock with a guitar line that sounds like someone’s voice.

The place is a live house, the kind where underground indie bands play. A sign sits along the wall, reading “SoulStar.”

“This is the SoulStar club,” says Esla, walking towards a front desk. “People with music-related spirits form bands and play here.” She motions to the person behind the counter, a woman dressed in flamboyant leather, dyed green hair, and lots of piercings. The woman behind the counter holds out two tickets. “Twenty pounds,” she says.

Esla hands over the money and we enter the stage area. It’s packed, filled with people going crazy over the music.

The band that’s playing is a four man piece, and their music has a rocking beat that I don’t find bad. There’s a haunting, theremin-style sound to the music, however, and it reminds me of psytrance.

I catch sight of a person who sends me into shock. A familiar man with an eyepatch and an evil grin. He catches sight of me and pushes his way through the crowd towards me.

“Markus!” he says, upon getting close enough for me to hear him. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here!”

“Who is this?” says Esla.

“Um, this is, uh, Deeve,” I say. “He’s an, uh, mercenary …”

Deeve winks at Esla, which, due to his one eye, looks a bit uncanny. “Hey, I didn’t know you had a cute girlfriend like her,” says Deeve. He makes finger guns. “I’d love to get to know you better. Foxy!”

I can tell Esla is a bit put off but is trying her best to hide it. “So, um, how do you guys know each other?” asks Esla.

“Oh, this and that, here and there,” says Deeve. He puts his arm on my shoulder. “Markus and I go back quite a bit.”

I would have argued, but I’m too petrified. All I can do is go along with it.

Deeve’s face becomes a bit more serious. “I hear you made a deal with Biren,” he says. He glances at Esla. “I’ll tell you now that I tried to talk Biren out of it. But, the man’s crazy. All he wants is to experience pain, both given and taken.”

Esla looks even more nervous. “Um, what are you guys talking about?”

Deeve shakes his head. “Stuff you don’t want to know about, missy,” he says.

The band on stage ends their set and the crowd goes wild. Deeve nods his head and winks again. “I promise, though,” he says, turning a bit. “I’ll keep Biren’s contract. I’ll also throw in my efforts to keep Ronald from, well, you know.” He makes finger guns again. “Talleyo.” Then he melts back into the crowd.

“Who was that?” says Esla. “He was giving me some really bad vibes. What kind of people are you involved with?”

“He’s a bad guy,” I say. “A very bad one. You really, really would not want to be on his bad side.”

“Is he part of the criminal organization you’re making antimatter for?” asks Esla.

I look around, scared for a moment that someone heard us. The music, however, is too loud.

“Yes,” I say. “And they’re a nasty bunch.”

Esla crosses her arms. “You’re going to have to come clean about this sooner or later,” she says. “I’m almost certain that it’s totally illegal to produce antimatter, no matter what you use it for.”

“No one is going to know,” I say. “Biren is going to use it to travel to Triptefelexia.”

“Um, what?” says Esla. “It’s loud in here. I couldn’t hear what you said.”

“Never mind,” I yell. “Let’s just enjoy the music!”

Esla gives me a thumbs-up and we start rocking to the beat. The band that is currently up on stage is a classic rock band with a spirit twist, a different one than the band that was playing when we entered.

We spend the rest of the night having fun at the live house. When we leave, it’s around eleven at night.

Esla points to a small restaurant across the street. “They have great fish and chips,” she says. “And they’re open twenty-four seven.”

We walk to the restaurant. As we enter, I get a little ping in my mind that tells me I’m around one of my devils. Is it Rezolan? I don’t know.

I look behind the counter and into the shop’s kitchen. It’s a devil that I don’t recognize. He notices me and nods, and I nod back. That’s the only interaction we need to make.

Esla sits in a chair along the counter and motions to me. I sit next to her. “Two orders of fish and chips!” she says. She turns to me. “So what were you trying to tell me that I couldn’t hear?”

I wasn’t getting out of this one. “Um, so aliens exist, and Biren is trying to get to them by using antimatter. Apparently, antimatter is needed for interstellar travel.”

“Portals, mafia, and now aliens?” says Esla. “Wow, the world has become weird.”

“They’re called the triptefelexians. Apparently their religion involves torture and they’re very evangelical about it.”

“And you’re giving one of the most powerful crime bosses access to them,” says Esla.

I shrug. “What else am I supposed to do?”

Esla seems to think for a minute. “Why don’t you join them?” she says.

“They’re a criminal organization,” I say. “I don’t want to have anything to do with them.”

“Then you’re going to give them the power to demolish cities or call down an alien invasion instead,” says Esla. “I’m of the belief that this is the greater of the two evils. You can try working with them and do your best not to cause too much harm. Besides, no amount of harm done by your person could be more than the millions of lives lost from either an antimatter bomb or an invasion of evil torture aliens.”

I sigh. “So you’re saying I should join them.”

“I don’t know if that’s exactly what I’m saying,” says Esla. “All I know is that antimatter is very, very dangerous and there would be no amount of guilt that could wipe away the effects of an antimatter bomb.”

I clench my fist. “Then what do I do?” I say. “If I join them, I’ll go against my conscience. If I don’t, and don’t fulfill Biren’s request, they’ll kill everyone I love. Probably including you.”

The fish and chips arrive, carried by the cook who is also one of my minions. “I believe I have a third option,” he says, placing the food on the table. “Declare war on them. Eliminate them before they can eliminate you.”

“With what?” I say. “Even with the contents of an S-class portal …” I pause. “I think I have a plan.”

“Do tell,” says the devil.

“We’re going to have to hand off the antimatter to Biren at some point, right?” I say.

“Indeed,” says the devil.

“Then, when we do the handoff, we gather as many of the Darks as possible. We use a remote version of myself to trick them into believing that we’re there too. Then we detonate the bomb. If we do this on a boat in the middle of the ocean, than the most we’ll be doing is violating the nuclear test ban, and the UN won’t even know who we are.”

Esla scratches her chin. “That sounds difficult,” she says, “But I think we may be able to do it.”

The devil behind the counter smiles just a bit. “I’ll gather my people and begin preparation for this operation,” he says. “By the way, how’s the food?”

I haven’t tasted it yet. I am about to eat a piece of fish when Esla points to the vial of vinegar on the table. “That,” she says. “You have to use it.”

I put the vinegar on the fish and eat it. It’s good. It’s very good.

I just hope my good mood is warranted. Now that I finally have a plan, I think I’ll be able to solve this problem in a way that doesn’t kill anyone but the bad guys.

It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try

The Lesser One Arc 2: Chapter 12: Chips

Chips

Along with potato chips, there is tea and crumpets and scones, two of which I’ve never had before. It’s all delicious, and we spend a little bit of time munching and exchanging pleasantries. The heavy air has been cleared and I don’t feel like bringing it back.

Mandrake teaches us how to play croquet. I’m terrible at it, but Esla appears to be a natural. Sebastian also knocks it out of the park, both literally and figuratively. For his first shot, he uses so much strength that the ball flies over the garden’s hedge.

I suppose he’s not used to limiting his strength. But, he gets the hang of it after a couple more hazardous shots.

After the game, I sit down on a nice wooden bench and watch the birds in the trees. It’s nice to finally relax some. Since today was a dungeon clearing day, I called off the Rearden Metal production class. I’ll be going back tomorrow.

There’s nothing much else to do except ponder the situation I’m in. Time flows past with an alarming speed, and soon it is sunset, time to return to the things I’ve been trying to forget.

Sebastian, Esla, and I get into the limo and drive away. Once we reach the city, it’s only a short amount of time before we’re back at the Esmex building.

My apartment is in the building, but Esla’s is not. Sebastian drives off with her in the seat, in order to take her home.

I enter the building and return to my apartment. As always, it is pristinely clean. The view of London from the two windowed walls is spectacular. I stand in the middle of the spacious living room for a little while before sitting behind the computer to do some research.

First, I look up “gravity vacuum.”

A gravity vacuum is, like it sounds, a space without gravity. This technology is in its nascent stage and was only made possibly due to people with gravity-based spirits.

I don’t know if I can do that. My spirit is very powerful and well developed, but I don’t even know how to start approaching the manipulation of gravity.

Maybe one of my devils has that ability. I take out my phone and dial Rezolan—Sebastian gave me his phone number and told me it was easier to communicate through conventional means in this case.

Rezolan picks up after the first ring. “Mr. Red,” he says. “What do you need?”

“Do any of you guys have the ability to affect gravity?”

Rezolan is silent for a moment. “I think so, yes.”

“Bring them to my apartment so that I can try something out.”

“Sure thing,” says Rezolan. “Would you like me to come as well?”

“Of course,” I say. “You’re the one who’s most knowledgeable about this subject.”

“We’ll be on our way shortly,” says Rezolan.

I hang up. Now it’s time to research exactly what antimatter is.

Apparently, only one case of stable antimatter has ever been proven, and that was the explosion in Detroit. With complicated radio detection technology, scientists discovered that the explosion was caused by rapid disintegration of stable antimatter. So, whoever was responsible had, for a couple of fractions of a second, produced what I need to produce.

I click off. There’s nothing else but depression waiting behind that screen. I lean back in the comfortable executive chair and watch the chandelier tinkle in the light.

I take out my phone and dial my parents. “Hey,” I say, when they pick up.

“It’s been a while,” says my dad. “How is your internship going? I heard that you were involved in a little bit of a kerfuffle.”

“I just did my job as part of my temporary guild,” I say. “It was dangerous at the time, but this is what I signed up for.”

“I’m proud of you,” says my dad. I can hear baby Sandy crying in the background. “Anyways, when are you coming back?”

“At the end of summer,” I say. “I’m not sure exactly when. It depends on how quickly I reach my goal.”

“Okay,” says my dad. “Take care.”

“Oh, and, um,” I say. “They’re paying me a lot for this internship. Do you have anything you want or need right now?”

“I’m not desperate enough to take money from my son,” says dad. “But if you want to make my day, bring me some scones or something and maybe a souvenir or two.”

“Okay,” I say. “Anything else?”

“Not really,” says dad. “Things are going as they always have been around here. The rebuilding from the balrog attack is almost done. I’ve been doing some reconstruction consulting. It’s probably boring, but—oh, okay—yeah, I have to go. Sandy just barfed. Later!”

“Well, I’ll talk to you later,” I say. Then I hang up.

The elevator dings, and opens to reveal Rezolan and a devil I haven’t seen before.

Rezolan enters the living room, but the other devil hesitates.

“Sit,” I say, motioning towards the plush couch.

Both of them sit on the couch.

“This is Elnor,” says Rezolan, motioning to the other devil.

Elnor is a dark-skinned devil with a little bit of an elfish vibe to her.

“Elnor can control certain subatomic particles,” says Rezolan. “Well, it would be better if she explained.”

“Right,” says Elnor. “I can manipulate the particles that govern the affection of force.”

“Okay,” I say. “I think I get it. Can you control gravitons?”

“Yes,” says Elnor.

“Can you show me?” I ask.

Elnor shakes her head. “Unless you want to destabilize this entire building, no. Gravity does not like being artificially stretched.”

“And do you know what a gravity vacuum is and how to make one?” I ask.

Elnor nods. “Rezolan filled me in. I think I can do it, but it would most definitely involve a couple of very dangerous steps.”

“This whole process is going to be dangerous,” I say. “I’m planning on pulling a Manhattan Project and picking somewhere like White Sands or maybe Siberia to make this product.”

“That would be good,” says Rezolan. “I have something to say about that topic.” He looks at Elnor. “You said you wanted to ask Mr. Red something.”

Elnor nods. “Yes. Do you understand what contract binds us to you?”

“I, actually I don’t know,” I say. “I never got a piece of paper or anything.”

“We have lived in the aether sea for our entire lives. I myself am over two hundred years old. I have served many masters over the years, and you are but one more in a long chain.” She places her hands on her knees. “We chose to follow you, Markus,” she says. “Because we believe that you will do something amazing.”

“Jirgrar, one of our highest leaders, chose to supplicate himself to you in order to achieve our longest goal,” says Rezolan. “We followed Kiraz, the balrog you defeated, for many decades. But he grew old and complacent. He simply wanted to sit on his mound of treasure and watch the world from a small mirror. You, on the other hand, have both power and ambition. We like that.”

“What do you mean by ambition?” I ask.

“You want to be great,” says Rezolan. “A trait that most humans possess. However, what you have that other humans don’t is the ability to see clearly what the next step is.”

“You overestimate me,” I say.

“Perhaps. But you are but a youth in your culture, much more in ours. You will learn, and if we direct you in the right way, you will become much more powerful as a leader than Kiraz ever could have been.” Rezolan folds his hands. “And we, being devils from lawhell, always stick to our contracts.”

“I still don’t get it,” I say, “But I’ll stop worrying. What is your goal, by the way?”

“To find someone,” says Rezolan. “The creator of lawhell and one of the original daemons who existed before the schism.”

“Our original master,” says Elnor. She pauses. “But that is a long term goal. Making sure that you rise the ranks is our short term goal.”

“I suppose I understand now,” I say. “You’ve done so much for me already that I’m not certain what I can do in return.”

“You have many latent abilities that have yet to manifest,” says Rezolan. “We will ask for our return on our investment when you acquire them.”

“What about your restaurant?” I ask.

Rezolan scratches the back of his head. “That’s totally unrelated,” he says. “Just a pet project of mine.”

Elnor elbows Rezolan. “None of us understand his obsession with the cuisine of hell. It’s pretty bland and uninteresting, to me at least.”

“What, you don’t like cockatrice eggs?” says Rezolan.

Elnor sighs. “Yes. But what’s so special about them?”

“Everything!” says Rezolan. He scratches his temple. “Anyways, back to the subject at hand. Creating antimatter. I’ve done my research and I think I have a process that has a reasonable chance of creating what we want and a less than significant chance of blowing up in our face.”

“What does less than significant mean?” I ask.

“Well, if this were a study and it were a p value, we would be able to reject our null hypothesis.”

“Um, what?” I say.

“Ah, you’re still in high school. It’s less than five percent.”

“A five percent chance of being dissolved into my component parts?” I say. I shrug. “Well, it’s better than a lot of surgeries.”

“I knew you would accept the risk,” says Rezolan. “I’ve also selected an area where we can do the actual work. I’ve taken the liberty of renting a scientific research vessel that has deep sea voyaging capabilities. We’ll take it to the middle of the Pacific and do it there.”

“Like Castle Bravo?” I say.

“We hope not,” says Rezolan.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s start gearing up to do that. Before we head out to sea to blow up some reality, I need to finish my contract with Esmex.”

“Devils are all about contracts,” says Rezolan, “So we understand.”

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” I say.

Rezolan shakes his head. “No. We’ll be doing our own projects until we’re needed. I assume you’ll be working on that kind of thing as well.”

“Understood,” I say. “If you want, you can stay for some tea.”

Rezolan is about to shake his head, but stops. “What kind of tea do you have?”

I walk into the kitchen and take out a teapot and some very expensive-looking tea. “I don’t know. It’s called “Bastion Gold.””

Rezolan looks a bit amused. “That’s special portal-grown tea.”

“Is it?” I say. “It looks and smells expensive.”

“Um, is it okay if I have coffee?” says Elnor.

“Sure,” I say. Sometimes I set up coffee for my parents when I wake up early, so I know how to work the machine. Again, the coffee I find in the cupboard looks like it’s the super expensive type.

I make a pot of coffee as well as two cups of tea.

I hand the tea to Rezolan and the coffee to Elnor.

When I sit down, I take a sip of my tea and then place it on the coffee table. “So,” I say. “How, exactly, do you guys make the money that’s in my accounts?”

“Mostly high frequency and futures trading,” says Rezolan. “As well as INTERPOL bounties.”

“I don’t understand any of that,” I say. I pause. “Well, it’s better than extortion, I suppose.” I take another sip of my tea. “Anyways, I hope we can continue getting along together.”

“I hope so too,” says Rezolan.

The Lesser One Arc 2: Chapter 11: Return

Return

We leave the dungeon as a group. Three people were casualties in this adventure, and the support staff outside the dungeon work to handle their remains.

I step away from the crowd for a moment and sit down on a curb. A nice breeze flows past my face.

The dungeon crawl was a reminder that I’m still being watched. I need to uphold my side of the bargain if I’m ever going to be secure again.

The portal collapses. Most of the adventurers return to their busses. Carl stops before entering the Blue Dryads’ bus. “Are you coming, Mr. Red?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I want to take a walk. I’ll find my own way home.”

“If you say so,” says Carl. “Good work today. You did well.” He steps into the bus and the doors close behind him.

I stay sitting on the curb as the busses leave. For a while, there is nothing. Then a limousine pulls up beside the warehouse. It’s Sebastian, and in the vehicle is Esla.

I haven’t seen her in a while, and I am very confused as to why she is here. She steps out of the car beside Sebastian.

“You’re really here, Markus,” she says, looking a bit incredulous. “Your, ah, butler here picked me up at the airport.”

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Dr. Barrimore sent me to check in with you,” she says. “I know you had the incident with the S-class portal and all that, but I also know you’re probably going to need some help with your dealings with the mafia.” She pauses. “At least I assume it was mafia, right? Dr. Barrimore didn’t really fill me in on most of the small details.”

“I can’t tell you,” I say. “It’s a memetic hazard.”

Esla holds up a small bottle. “Dr. Barrimore told me you would say that,” she says. She pops the cork and drinks the thing in one chug, tossing the bottle aside when she is done. “Now you can tell me. Quick, the potion lasts for about five minutes.”

“There’s this organization called the Silverbones,” I say.

Esla cringes. “Yikes. That really is a mind hazard if I’ve ever seen one,” she says. She rubs her temples. “But I think the potion worked.”

“What did Doctor Barrimore tell you?” I say.

“First, you answer my question. What do you have to do with that secret organization?”

“I joined the Brights,” I say. “They’re the half of the Silverbones who do good. But, at the same time, the Darks are blackmailing me. I have to provide someone with …” I pause. “A difficult substance in order to keep my family alive.”

“Okay,” says Esla. “I think I get it. The bad guys are threatening your family, and you’re willing to do almost anything to protect them except join their ranks.”

“Um, that’s about it,” I say.

“Doctor Barrimore said you would need some company,” says Esla. “And I was the person to call for that. I’ll be on your side throughout whatever comes.”

“What if—”

“I can protect myself, Markus,” says Esla. “That’s the whole reason Dr. Barrimore selected me.”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand the power of the Darks,” I say. “Even Dr. Barrimore has never seen anything like them.”

“I trust him,” says Esla.

I think for a moment. “Okay,” I say. “I can make this work. I think you can help me.”

“Anything to help my friend,” says Esla.

“Do you know how to create a gravity vacuum?” I ask.

Esla takes out a flip phone. “I paid for service here. Let’s see.” She dials a few numbers and puts the phone to her ear. “Yes. Dr. Barrimore? Yes. He wants to know how to build a gravity vacuum. Okay.” She turns and hands me the phone. “Dr. Barrimore wants to talk to you.”

I take the phone. “Hello?”

“Markus, my boy,” says Dr. Barrimore. “I hope you enjoy the help I sent you. First off. Why do you need to build a gravity vacuum?”

“To produce, um,” I say. “I can’t tell you. It’s something dangerous but that’s as much as I can say.”

Dr. Barrimore is silent for a moment. “Okay. I’ll trust you on this one. I only prepared for one memetic hazard. Here, let me pull up some references.” I hear paper shuffling. “Ah, yes. Gravity vacuums. A relatively new field of portal-enabled science. Very complicated. Hm. You’re probably going to have to hire someone who knows a lot more about this than I do. Do you want to use my connections?”

“I think I know someone who can help me,” I say. “I just asked to see my options.”

“Well then, boyo,” says Dr. Barrimore. “Call me back whenever you need help.” He hangs up.

I hand the phone back to Esla. “He was as curt as ever,” I say.

Esla takes the phone. “I signed up for an adventure, didn’t I?” she says.

I chuckle, though it’s a dark one. “You are an adventurer, after all.”

Esla puts her hands on her hips. “I heard you became an S-class,” she says.

“What, has news already reached America?” I say.

“Of course I know what’s happening to my friend,” she says. “I’ve been perusing London News ever since I heard about that S-class portal in Wales. You show up, well, not often, but enough times that I got the gist of things.” She frowns. “I also heard about the terrorist attacks. That’s what convinced me to accept Dr. Barrimore’s request.”

“Ah,” I say. “Have my parents heard?”

“You haven’t called them?” she says.

“No,” I say. “I didn’t want to worry them. I think that if they assume my internship with Esmex is going well enough to be boring, that would be for the best.”

“Call them. Tell them at least something about what’s happening.”

I sigh. “Okay. Later, though. For now I have harder things to think about.” I turn to Sebastian. “Do you know where Rezolan is?”

“He is currently convening with the brightest minds among your servants and the British scientific community,” says Sebastian. “He will return with information before the week is out.”

“So I just have to survive until then,” I say. “No antimatter until I know what I’m doing.”

“Wait, antimatter?” says Esla.

“Oops,” I say. I look to Sebastian for help. He shakes his head.

Esla puts her hands on her hips. “You seriously promised to make antimatter for a criminal organization.”

“I was, ah, assured that it would only be used for a purpose that posed no direct harm to anyone.”

“And you trusted that?”

“I was told by a very trustworthy person,” I say.

“No one is trustworthy enough to risk millions of lives on the off chance they do use it for a bomb,” says Esla.

I sigh. “I have no choice. They’ll kill my parents, my friends, even you.” I put up my hands. “What do I do about that?”

“I, for one, wouldn’t mind dying for a cause,” says Esla. She points her finger. “And I do not value my life enough to endanger millions of people.”

I am at my wits end here. “So what?” I say. “I let them kill my family? I join them?”

Esla, even through her anger, appears stumped. She raises her hands in an exasperated manner. “I don’t know either.”

“This is  tough situation,” says Sebastian. “Perhaps we can settle our stomachs with a meal.”

“Where?” I say. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for fancy dining.”

“The Bright Silverbones have invited us to a tea party,” says Sebastian.

Esla brightens. “Ooh, a tea party. That’s super British. Who’s going to be there?”

“Just the Brights Markus has already met, plus two more he hasn’t.”

Esla appears to be in a bit of a better mood. “Then let’s go.”

We get into the limo. Esla leans on the plush couch. “This is a fancy ride you have here,” she says. “I never knew you came from a rich family.”

“Actually, I don’t,” I say. “I earned this money through, ah, investments and high frequency trading.”

“Yikes,” says Esla. “Not for me.” She opens up the mini fridge. “Ooh, look at all this alcohol. Are you planning on wineing the prime minster? Some of this stuff looks expensive.”

“There soda here,” I say, opening the secret fridge. “I don’t drink the spirits.” I toss her a diet root beer.

“Aw, spoilsport,” says Esla. She takes the can and snaps it open. “Well, this is better than going thirsty.”

“If you don’t like that,” I say, “I have Blendina.”

Esla raises an eyebrow. “What’s that? Some sort of British smoothie?”

“It’s super expensive juice. It’s pretty good.”

Esla shrugs. “Nah, I don’t drink expensive stuff as a rule.”

Sebastian drives us through the countryside to the Bright’s country manor. We stop in the manor’s expansive driveway and Sebastian helps us out.

Esla and I stand in the middle of a perfect garden cornered by colorful rose bushes and accented with statues. Mandrake, Ari, Robin, and someone I haven’t met are playing croquet. Mandrake looks up from his mallet and waves.

“Glad you can make it,” he says. “It’s a happy occasion to meet while not under duress.”

I try my best to smile. “I suppose so,” I say.

“You haven’t met Az yet, have you?” says Mandrake. He motions towards the man I haven’t seen before. “His spirit is lanthanum.”

“That’s rare,” says Esla. She chuckles. “I made a pun.”

I sigh, and so does everyone else.

Mandrake takes a shot with his mallet. “Well, enjoy yourselves. Our game will be over soon. There’s food you Americans will like in the house. What you guys call chips.”

“Ah, cool,” says Esla. She enters the house, leaving Sebastian and I standing in the garden.

I turn to Mandrake. “You said that Biren wants antimatter to leave the planet, right?” I say.

Mandrake frowns. “I’m certain. Biren doesn’t have a motive to kill mass numbers of people. He’s more the individualized attention, if you get my drift, kind of person. Now, Ronald, on the other hand …” Mandrake makes a disgusted face. “And don’t get me talking about Generica.”

“How likely is it that someone like Ronald will receive antimatter from Biren, or even steal it from him?”

Mandrake shakes his head. “I’m telling you, I know Biren better than any person has a right to. He won’t allow anything catastrophic to happen.”

“It’s funny,” I say, “How you trust your enemy who is also a murderous psychopath.”

Mandrake shrugs. “Would you rather join them or lose your friends and family?”

I purse my lips. “No. I’m going through with this anyways, I’ve decided. I just want assurance that I won’t be responsible for the deaths of millions just to save a couple of people, no matter how important they are to me.”

Mandrake makes a shot with his mallet. “If you want reassurance, ask Biren himself. I’m sure he’ll give you the time of day.”

“I’ll do that,” I say. “Um, how do I contact him?”

Mandrake takes an old-fashioned contact book out of his pocket. “Let’s see,” he says, his mallet rested on his hips. “Ah, here. His phone number.” He writes something down on the back of a receipt and hands it to me.

It’s a normal phone number.

“That’s it?” I say. “Just like that? No secret codes, no spy stuff?”

“Biren is a lot more with the times than you would expect from a powerful serial killer,” says Mandrake. “Just, contact him at your own risk.”

“I’ll do that after I get something to eat,” I say. “I’m starving.”

I enter the building to get some food and try to forget about my problems for a minute.

The Lesser One: Arc 2: Chapter 10: Dungeons Again

Dungeons Again

There are now eleven conjurers who I am working with to produce Rearden Metal. The mood among then is subdued. I’m actually surprised that they all came to work today.

I take off my expensive suit before starting and don a lab coat, carefully hanging the suit in a closet.

I spend the day like usual, trying to teach these conjurers how to feel themselves. I’ve decided to take a different tack when showing them. Instead of going technical, I treat it as if they were playing an instrument. Posture, flow of spirit particles, and shaping techniques. One of the conjurers actually manages to produce type one. I congratulate her and tell her to keep doing it so she can retain the success.

At the end of the day I leave the lab and head to the entrance lobby. Sebastian is, again, waiting in the lounge area. He is holding a pencil and a newspaper crossword puzzle.

Rezolan is sitting across from him, eyes closed. He opens them when I approach.

“Ah, sir,” he says. “I was told you needed some expert help?”

I sit down in a plush armchair. “I suppose,” I say. “You went to school?”

Rezolan shakes his head. “All devils are self-studied. However, I have had centuries to refine my scientific technique.”

“You said you wanted something from me in exchange for your help, right?” I say.

Rezolan raises an eyebrow. “Yes. I need you to do me a favor.”

“What is it?” I say.

“Allow me to purchase a restaurant,” says Rezolan.

“Um, don’t you already have authority to do that?” I ask.

Rezolan looks a bit confused. “I thought you meant to direct all your resources towards your own goals,” he says. “At least, that’s what Jirgrar says.”

“Why do you want to open a restaurant?” I ask.

Rezolan shrugs. “Obviously, to be a cook and serve food.”

“Deal,” I say. “You can use as much of my money as you need to in order to start a restaurant.”

Rezolan appears to be surprised. “You don’t get anything out of it, right?” he says.

“I get, at the very least, your help with creating, um,” I look around to make sure no one is listening, “Antimatter.”

Rezolan smiles, though only a bit. “Then it’s a deal.”

“By the way,” I say. “What kind of restaurant do you want to start?”

“The cuisine from lawhell,” says Rezolan. “Cooked styxian eel, cockatrice egg, and basilisk foie gras.” He speaks with an energy I haven’t seen from him before.

“Where are you going to source your ingredients?” I ask. “There have to be import rules surrounding portal food.” I pause. “Most monsters puff into smoke when we kill them, though.”

“Lawhell is not a dungeon or a portal realm,” says Rezolan. “It’s an entirely different plane of existence. And I am going to source food from my contacts there. They do take human money. They’re devils, after all.”

I have to keep reminding myself that my minions associate with the “lawful evil” side of the alignment chart. From what I’ve learned in class, “chaotic evil” creatures from hell are called “demons.” Demons and devils don’t mix well.

But, as far as I can see, allowing one of my minions to open a novelty restaurant would only be a good thing.

Sebastian looks up from his crossword puzzle. “I have located an empty area some distance from any population in the north of Scotland. I have asked around and we may be able to mask most of the energy you release in the process of creating antimatter.”

“Will I create a lot of energy?” I ask.

Rezolan chuckles. “A whole lot. Comparable to a hydrogen bomb. However, if you work it correctly, all that energy will be emitted in a bandwidth no one will be able to detect. If you shove it all into a dungeon, it will dissipate.”

“I’m not even sure if I can turn my anima fluid into antimatter,” I say.

“If Biren believed you can do it, strangely enough, so can I,” says Rezolan. “Take two days off from your Rearden Metal work,” he says. “We can work at the location Sebastian found for us for that period of time.”

“One last check,” I say. “How dangerous is creating antimatter?”

Rezolan shakes his head a bit. “We don’t know. We don’t know what caused the explosion in Detroit. It may not even have been Daniel Washington’s fault.”

“So, you’re saying we know nothing.”

“Exactly,” says Rezolan. “The only other instances of produced antimatter happened in particle colliders, in nanograms or smaller. You could be able to produce the material without any danger at all. We just don’t know.”

“And that’s what makes it dangerous,” says Sebastian. “However, we do realize that if you don’t make this deal with Biren, your friends and family will be killed.”

“Probably tortured before that, too,” says Rezolan.

I cringe. “Yeah. I’m glad Biren gave me an out in this case.”

My phone rings. I pick it up.

“Markus, this is Carl. The Blue Dryads have been assigned to an A-class portal last-minute. We need you. Be at the main building in half an hour.”

I sigh. “Okay, sir,” I say. I hang up. “We’re going to have to postpone our plans,” I say. “Biren did give me an infinite deadline, after all.” I stand up. “Take me to the Blue Dryads’ headquarters.”

Rezolan remains sitting as Sebastian stands.

“I’m not needed, right?” says Rezolan.

“You can work on your restaurant project while we’re gone,” says Sebastian. He turns to me. “Let’s go.”

We leave the building and take the limo through the city streets to reach the Blue Dryads’ headquarters.

Blue Dryad adventurers are congregating around the building’s entrance.

I see Carl among them, and when I get out of the limo, I approach him.

“We’re going through an A-class today, right?” I say.

Carl nods. “We’re joining with the Greenbottom guild to clear it,” he says. “We’re certainly glad to have you with us.”

The members of the Blue Dryads climb aboard several vans. We drive as s convoy to the outskirts of the city, to the west. A portal has opened in an old, abandoned warehouse. It’s a tall one, half of its height sticking out of the collapsed roof of the building. Our vans stop and adventurers pour out into the parking lot. Two more vans, painted green, arrive just a minute later, and more adventurers stream out. There are over a hundred adventurers and apprentices in the lot. I know that the average death rate for an A-class portal is between four and eight. Some of these people won’t be making it out alive. A-class portals make up less than one percent of total manifested portals, however, so we aren’t losing too many adventurers.

Carl Stevenson stands up on a makeshift stage to address the crowd.

“As you all know by now,” he says, “A-class portals are dangerous and deadly environments. That’s why we’re here, and that’s why we are receiving hazard pay.”

The crowd is silent.

The Greenbottom guild’s commander is also on the stage with Carl. He makes a few remarks and then Carl wraps us up.

We mill about for ten minutes before we arrange ourselves into our given ranks. As a DPS (damage per second) actor, I get to stay in the middle of the ranks. Behind the tanks and in front of the healers.

We advance into the portal as a block, the Greenbottoms on the left and the Blue Dryads on the right. The portal itself is almost as big as a family house, so there’s plenty of room.

I catch sight of a familiar man with an eyepatch sitting on the rafters of the warehouse. Deeve, one of the members of the Dark Silverbones. Before I can call out, his figure is gone.

“What’s wrong?” says the adventurer next to me.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just nothing.” I turn to face the portal.

We enter into a hot, sweltering jungle with purple foliage. The color is so intense that it hurts my eyes.

“Contact!” yell the front tanks. Two gigantic T-rex monsters, probably high B rank, come roaring out from between the trees. Dozens of C-class raptors flow between their feet.

The raptors hit the line of tanks. Our formation flexes to take the blow. I conjure my bow and arrows and start firing.

The front line of tanks splits to allow a gigantic fireball from one of the A-class adventurers to fly through. One T-rex takes a hit to the face and is blown to bloody bits. The second T-rex is downed under concentrated fire. We clean up the rest of the raptors and allow the two adventurers who dealt the killing blows to absorb the B-class rings, probably between one hundred and two hundred years. After which we continue onwards.

I catch sight of Deeve again, sitting in the canopy of one of the tallest trees. He smiles at me and winks with his one eye. I also think I can see Ronald, the man who attacked me at the restaurant.

The fact that they are following me is making me uncomfortable. I can’t do anything to change it, however. I continue onward with the rest of the guild and hope we can be done with this quickly.

A gigantic A-class monkey, the boss of the first floor, drops from the fronds of a tree the size of a skyscraper.

“You dare trespass on my sacred jungle?” It says, its voice echoing through the forest.

“Attack!” yells Carl, and we engage in battle. The monkey sweeps aside our entire front line of tanks in a single motion. Dozens of armored men and woman clatter against the tree trunks. Some get caught in the vines.

“We’re exposed!” yells one of the adventurers. The monkey readies for another swing.

Carl throws up a barrier of clear material, upon which the monkey’s hit bounces off. The monkey staggers, put off balance by the strike.

I take aim at the monkey’s vital point and fire. So do about a dozen other DPS members.

Concentrated fire causes the monkey to cover its face. Just in time for our tank line to reform and deal the finishing blow.

The monkey falls to the ground and the tank who dealt the killing blow absorbs the spirit ring.

A portal opens that leads to the second floor. As a group, we march through and enter an ancient lost city, complete with a ziggurat temple covered in vines.

The enemy in this case is a gigantic sky whale, floating above the lost city. It takes a heading towards us and opens its mouth. A laser beam shoots from between its baleen and incinerates two of our tanks. One of them dies, and the other is saved by a quick action by our healers.

We move into combat formation. Tanks won’t be much use in this case, but shield mages should be able to contain the whale laser.

The whale does another dive and sweeps our forces with its laser. Three separate shield bubbles form in the laser’s path, reflecting the laser beam so that it cuts through the forests behind our forces.

“DPS!” yells Carl. “Full output!”

I start firing conjured arrows at the beast. Most of them hit their mark, but the whale is sucking up a lot of damage. It fires a new color of laser, bright blue in hue, that creates pillars of ice wherever it hits.

Two DPS members freeze to death inside of gigantic ice crystals.

The whale finally moans its last breath and plows a furrow in the ground. Since it’s probably a spirit worth over a thousand years, the choice of who gets to absorb the ring may be difficult.

Carl and the leader of the Greenbottoms converge after we’ve made sure that the surroundings are clear. After five minutes of discussion, we decide who to give the spirit to—a famous London adventurer who I, being American, have never heard of until recently.

With everything wrapped up, we arrange ourselves to leave. I catch sight of Deeve, sitting at the temple’s apex, giving me a slow clap. He winks again and is gone in a wisp of smoke.

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 9: Armani

Armani

The encounter with Alice’s spirit has put me in a sad mood. I know it’s going to be very difficult to bring her back, now that I’ve figured out what happened to her.

But first, it’s time for me to try a little pet project I’ve been wanting to do. “Take me to the countryside, where there are no buildings or people,” I say, to Sebastian.

“Of course,” says Sebastian.

We leave the city and drive to a large patch of empty land, crisscrossed only with little-used country roads. After we stop, I step out of the limo and start climbing one of the downs. The low hill is topped with ancient glacial rocks.

I survey the field, making sure that no one is here. Then, I reach into my personal dimension and call forth the gigantic mammoth.

A portal opens on the ground, and the mammoth rises from it, turning a bit. Once the mammoth is at ground level, it walks towards me.

Its tusks are as big as I am. Its eyes are the size of dinner plates. It sits down on the ground and snorts.

“You’ve finally called me,” it says. Its voice is deep and rumbling, while at the same time nasal.

“I wasn’t sure what to do with you,” I say. “You’re the size of a battleship, after all.”

The mammoth chuckles, a sound that I did not think mammoths could make. “I am not the biggest among monsters. There are plenty of them who would dwarf me.”

“Still,” I say. “Compared to me, you’re huge.”

The mammoth sits down on all fours, causing the ground to rumble. “Why did you call me forth?” he asks.

“I just wanted to formally introduce myself,” I say. “Are you required to follow me by some sort of law?”

“Gideon’s Sword compels me,” says the mammoth. “It has been absorbed into your bone marrow and I must listen to its bearer.”

“Do all S-class portals have keys like this?” I ask.

“Most portals, no matter their class, have a sort of key, though it may be very hard to find.”

“I don’t know your name yet,” I say.

“I have no name,” says the beast.

“Can I call you Mammoth?” I ask.

“If you want to,” says Mammoth. He shifts his massive weight, cracking a few of the stones atop the down.

“Just a question,” I say. “What can you tell me about aliens and antimatter?”

Mammoth snorts. “I know nothing of the world beyond the dungeon in which I was born. I cannot help you on either front.”

“It was worth a shot,” I say. I hold out my hand. “I’ll call you again when I need you.”

Mammoth gets up, a portal opens under him, and he sinks back into my personal dimension.

I sit on the cold down in the darkness for a moment before I decide to return to the limo. I can see all the stars from here, and the distant lights of London illuminate the horizon. Once I have my fill of the nice view, I stand up and return to the limo. Sebastian is sitting on the hood, smoking a pipe. He puts it out when I reach the road. His mannerisms are as precise as any butler’s.

“Are you ready to go?” he says, opening the door for me. “I do believe it would be best for you to get a good night’s sleep.”

I am, to be honest, bone tired. I step into the limo and sit down in the comfortable chair, and before I know it I am asleep.

I wake up as Sebastian pulls us into the Esmex building’s drop off point. I step out and make my way towards the entrance and then the elevator.

Sebastian drives away in the limo, presumably to park it somewhere. I take the elevator to the floor with my apartment and, once I get there, I fall asleep on the bed without taking my clothes off.

When I wake up in the morning I feel awful. I stagger to the bathroom and get into the shower. The shower is in a building corner and has two windows looking out over the street. Not exactly what I would call tasteful, but I’ve been told the windows are one way. I sure hope that’s the case.

Showering while overlooking the London skyline feels a bit weird, so I take as little time as possible.

When I leave the bathroom there is a nice suit laid out for me on the bed. I have not seen anyone enter or leave the room, but I assume someone set this up for me. I put on the suit and I feel like a super special person. Chuckling at the weirdness of the situation, I leave the apartment and head to the ground floor. Before my work with the Rearden Metal conjurers continues, I need to meet with Mandrake.

Sebastian is sitting in a recliner at the ground floor, reading a newspaper. It’s the first time in a long while that I’ve seen someone reading a physical newspaper. He flicks it, and then notices me.

“Good morning,” he says, turning back to his paper.

I walk over and sit next to him.

“Do you mind retrieving a cup of coffee for me?” he asks, still reading his paper.

“Um, where do I—”

Sebastian puts down his newspaper and motions to a small alcove in the entrance hall. A high-end self-sere coffee machine sits in the space.

I get up and grab two expensive-looking mugs. I fill one with coffee and the other with tea. Just in case I grab some sugar and some cream, the cream coming in those little cups.

I walk over to the lounge and hand Sebastian his coffee. He puts the paper down and takes a sip. He reacts as if it were a bit too hot, and begins blowing on it.

“Sugar or cream?” I ask, holding out them both.

“Sugar,” says Sebastian. He takes a sugar packet and empties it into his cup, stirring with a small stir stick. He puts the coffee on the table and continues reading his newspaper. After about five minutes he puts down his paper.

“Do we need to go somewhere today?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “We need to met with Mandrake at the country manor so we can discuss Biren’s request.”

“And you need to be back by what time?” asks Sebastian.

“One is when the conjurers get in to work,” I say.

Sebastian folds up his newspaper and stands up, finishing the dregs of his coffee. He places the newspaper gently on a side table and straightens his suit.

“Your dress is appropriate,” he says. “I took the liberty of requesting a custom fitted Armani and had it delivered to your room.”

“Oh, thanks,” I say. I’m wearing an Armani? Yikes. “Where did you get my measurements?”

“Dr. Barrimore was more than happy to give us that data.”

Well. I suppose it was for the best, though. I straighten my suit jacket and follow Sebastian to where the limousine is parked, not far from the Esmex building’s entrance. Sebastian holds the door for me and I relax into the luxurious seat.

When Sebastian gets into the driver’s seat, I ask him a question. “How much does this limo cost?”

“Around two hundred thousand dollars,” says Sebastian. “Do not worry, though, as that is a mere pittance compared to the state of your finances. We, as your protectors, have decided that it is a proper expenditure.”

“Well, I’m glad I have a reliable way to get around here,” I say. “I really don’t feel like it’s my money anyways.” I remember, several times, giving my followers full reign to make their own decisions. This would probably be included in that. I like not worrying about the state of my finances, as the idea of possessing that much cash makes me a bit nervous.

I’ll probably ask for a breakdown of that sooner or later.

We drive out of the city and return to the Bright Silvebones’ country manor. Robin, the red-haired Bright whose power is fire, is doing some gardening. She watches us pull in while shielding her eyes from the morning sun. As we stop, she approaches us.

I step out. “Is Mandrake here?” I ask.

Robin nods. “I’ll take you to him. You’re here to talk about antimatter, right?” she says.

I nod. “Thanks for being understanding about this,” I say.

“The risks are great,” says Robin, “And I’m not sure I would do the same thing if I were in your position, but at the same time, I respect your choice.”

“I appreciate it,” I say.

We enter the manor and I see Mandrake coming down the stairs.

“I saw you turn into our driveway,” he says. He steps onto the main floor. “We have a lot to talk about.”

I follow Mandrake into a small room down the hall of the first floor of the manor. Mandrake closes the door and turns to Sebastian and I.

“I’ve done some research,” he says. “I do believe I have found a way for you to produce stable antimatter.”

“Did you learn it from, um, the aliens?” I say.

Mandrake chuckles. “I don’t personally have a way to contact them,” he says. “Though I may have led you to believe otherwise.”

“How did you figure it out, then?” I ask.

“One of the members of the Brights is the scientist type,” says Mandrake. “You’ll meet him eventually, I’ll bet.” He sits down in a cheap school-style chair. “First, you have to produce it in a gravitational vacuum.”

“Um, what kind of a vacuum is that?”

“One without gravity, of course,” says Mandrake.

“I don’t know how I’m going to build one,” I say.

Mandrake takes a file out of a drawer and hands it to me. “Everything you need to know is there. It’s just theory at this point, so you’re going to need to figure out how it works yourself.”

“I’m not that smart,” I say. “Or educated.”

Sebastian steps forward. “I believe we can assist you on that front,” he says. “Many of my comrades have advanced training in the things you would need to build such a device. I believe you have met one of them. Rezolan.”

“Ah,” I say. “He has special training?”

“He is the equivalent of a doctorate,” says Sebastian. “A very intelligent individual.”

“He did strike me as smart,” I say.

“He would be glad to help you, so long as you do him a small favor,” says Sebastian.

“Um, okay?” I say.

Sebastian smiles a bit. “I’ll tell you what he wants at a better time.”

Mandrake rests his hands on his stomach. “Now that we have that figured out,” he says, “There’s a little bit of a problem we have. One of our jobs is to fight organized crime. Do you remember the Russian mafia who tried to kidnap you?”

“Of course,” I say. “How could I forget?”

“They’ve regrouped. They’ve chosen a new leader and are hungry for vengeance.”

“Oh, great,” I say. “Another threat to my family and friends.”

“These people are not well equipped,” says Mandrake, “But they do have a couple of A-class adventurers on their side.” He rubs his chin. “I just wanted you to know so that you and your group can ramp up security.”

I turn to Sebastian. “Do we have enough personnel for that?” I ask.

“We do,” says Sebastian. “I’ll make the arrangements. I think it would best, in this situation, to go on the offensive.”

“Take them out before they take us out, right?” says Mandrake.

“Exactly,” I say. I turn to Sebastian. “Okay. Let’s start looking for a spot where I can attempt to produce antimatter without endangering a local population.”

“I have several areas in mind,” says Sebastian. “It’s going to be difficult.”

“I know,” I say. “I just have to do it.”

Mandrake nods. “And I have no doubt that you will.”

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 8:

Conference

I sit behind a desk in front of fifty reporters. Camera flashes happen like in the movies. I shield my face from the light, and try my best to remain calm.

“Mr. Stevenson!” says one reporter. “Do you know why the CEO of Esmex has not arrived yet?”

“I’m sorry,” says Carl. “I only know things related to my guild and Mr. Red’s participation in the event.”

I know exactly why Crayton has not appeared—he’s still depressed about his daughter’s condition. In his place is a high-power lady executive who is wearing an expensive suit, even for someone of her status. Her name is Amilia Brakes.

“I will answer for all questions directed towards Mr. Blanche,” says Brakes. “I have legal authority to do so.”

Well, at least Crayton hasn’t totally abandoned his company.

“How did an S-class adventurer like Markus Red allow an innocent non-adventurer to lose their life?” asks another reporter.

“I would advise you to look up the monster known as the “wraith” in a dungeon encyclopedia,” says Carl. “Even an S-class adventurer cannot deal with one if it catches them with their guard down.”

There are murmurs in the crowd. Another reporter raises her notepad.

“Do you know who the perpetrator was?” she asks.

Carl appears to be wrestling with the question. “It’s a memetic hazard,” he finally says. “So I can’t tell you without hurting you.”

The reporters go wild. “A memetic hazard?” says one of them. “Do you even know what it is?”

Carl shakes his head. “These things go above my head,” he says, trying to quiet the crowd.

More camera flashes happen. Another reporter stands up. “I heard that there was a terrorist plot involved in this,” he says. “Do you know anything about that?”

“I can answer that,” says Brakes, holding out her arm. “Yes, it was a terrorist group. However, Esmex and its subsidiaries were not targets of said group. We only happened to be in its way as things happened.”

“What was their goal?” asks the reporter.

Brakes shakes her head. “We do not know,” she says.

More commotion. “I have a question for Mr. Red,” says another reporter. “Being a student, how did you manage to be there during the event?”

Carl holds his hand out. “Mr. Red is working on a contract with Esmex to produce conjured materials. I cannot say more than that.”

The reporters continued to ask questions, and I let Carl and Brakes handle as much as possible. I am, after all, just a student.

I leave the building as soon as possible once the conference is over. I am dead tired, and I drop into the seat of the limo as soon as Sebastian opens the door for me.

My day is not done yet. I still have to go to the promised meeting with Biren, in the crystal palace above the Esmex building’s penthouse.

We arrive at the building shortly and I enter the lobby behind Sebastian. He bows once I arrive at the elevator. “I will be unable to accompany you,” he says. “Biren has requested to meet you alone. If you do need me, I will arrive as soon as I can.”

I turn to the elevator. “Thanks,” I say, as the doors close. I ride the elevator to the penthouse.

Once I step out, I notice that room is pristinely clean, a huge difference from the last time I was here. I see no sign of Crayton.

I enter the private elevator that rises to the crystal palace. Once I am inside, my stomach churns. I rise about a floor and then the elevator stops.

I leave the elevator and enter the same crystal room I saw when I first met Crayton.

Biren is sitting in an executive’s chair, facing the window and watching the city.

“It’s so ephemeral, humanity,” says Biren. He does not turn to me. “Everyone going about their business without a care in the world. Each person believing that they are the most important out of all of them.” He raises a champaign glass.

I am getting déjà vu vibes from this encounter.

“I’ve decided,” I say. “I’m going to give you the antimatter. Just give me enough time to figure out a way to produce it safely.”

“I said I would give you an infinite deadline, didn’t I?” says Biren. He takes sip from his glass. “And I’ll even allow you to keep working on that pet project of yours, that you call Rearden Metal.”

“I’m returning to America in a month,” I say.

“I can take that into account as well,” says Biren. “Nowadays you can be halfway across the globe in twelve hours.” He twirls the champaign in his glass. “Anyways, I’m glad you accepted.” He stands up, places the champaign glass on the desk, and walks into the window. He passes through it as if it were a bubble, and then descends into the city night.

I hear a muffled thumping behind the only non-clear wall in the crystal palace. I walk up to it and touch it. It’s actually a closet, and when I open it, Crayton falls out, his mouth and hands duct taped.

For all his pompousness, Biren sure was crude in his methodology in this case. I help Crayton up and seat him in the executive’s chair.

“What happened?” I say. I strip the duct tape from Crayton’s mouth.

Crayton gasps. “He came and told me he could awaken Alice,” he says. “And when I let him in, all of a sudden I was trapped.”

“He was a member of the Silvebones,” I say.

Crayton’s eyes bulge. He wheezes. “No, ah!” he says. “Don’t say that word. Don’t say it!”

It looks like the memetic hazard still affects him.

“You wanted to join them, right?” I say. “That’s what you were hinting about to me back when we first met.”

Crayton shakes his head. “No. I did not understand them. I do not want to join them. Every time I think about them my brain hurts and I’m foggy for the next few hours.” He coughs. “I’m sorry. I let you down.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say. “He’s a lot stronger than any of us.”

Crayton sees the champaign glass on the desk and grabs it. With one long draught, he finishes it and places the glass back on the desk. “I need to snap out of it,” he says. He slams his hand on the table. “There are things I can do to help Alice wake up.” He stands up, and begins pacing the small, transparent room. “I will give you anything if you manage to heal her,” he says, “Though I do believe that you would have done it if you could.”

“I would have,” I say. “In the meantime, I’m going to keep working on Rearden Metal and fulfill my side of the contract.”

“Why do you still care about that?” says Crayton.

“I made a promise,” I say, “And I want to keep it. It’s the entire reason why I’m still here.”

Crayton stops. “What can you tell me about the person who put me in the closet?”

I shake my head. “It’s all mimetically hazardous.”

Crayton opens a small compartment and grabs a bottle of wine, uncorking it. He pours himself a glass and sits in the executive’s chair. “I underestimated you,” he says. “If you want, I can release you from the contract to produce Rearden Metal so that you can chase whatever that intruder was offering you.”

I shake my head. “I’m a man of my word,” I say. “I’ll continue working on Rearden Metal until I get it right.”

Crayton swirls the wine in his glass. “What do you think of me?” he asks.

“I think you’re doing well as a CEO,” I say, “Despite what happened to you when Alice fell asleep.”

“I didn’t mean like that,” says Crayton. “As a potential father in law, what do you think of me personally?”

I stammer. “Um, uh, er,” I say. The whole “father in law” thing caught me off guard. “I think you’re an okay person,” I say.

“Just okay?” says Crayton. He takes a sip of his wine. “Well, that’s the best I can hope for considering what I’ve done. I am a ruthless capitalist, after all.”

I shake my head. “I think you’re good at what you do and I respect you for that.”

Crayton sighs, turning to watch the city at sunset. “Well, I can’t stop what’s already in motion. Finish the Rearden Metal contract and go home. I suppose our fates will stay intertwined.”

I bow. “I’ll be taking my leave, then,” I say.

I leave. Crayton does not watch me, instead continuing to watch the sunset over the city of London.

I take the special elevator to the penthouse, and then the express back to ground floor. When I step out, Sebastian greets me.

“Master,” he says. “Did you give Biren your answer?”

“I told him I would do it,” I say. “And, he gave me as much time as I think I’ll need.”

“That’s surprisingly generous for a career criminal and serial killer,” says Sebastian.

I shake my head, feeling an overwhelming surge of emotion. “I don’t know what else to do. I trust Mandrake’s assessment of what Biren wants, but at the same time, I don’t want to be responsible for millions of deaths.”

“You’ve already made your decision, though,” says Sebastian. “What’s behind us is behind us.”

“And what’s ahead of us is ahead of us,” I say.

I hear a voice in my head.

Please, it says. Help me. I get a feeling that should go in a particular direction. I turn to Sebastian. “Did you hear that?”

Sebastian tilts his head. “Hear what?”

I turn to the doorway. “I know where to go, but I don’t know what I’m going to. All I know is that I need you to drive me somewhere.”

“Of course,” says Sebastian.

We leave the building and I get into the limo. After Sebastian starts the car and pulls into the street, I give him directions based on the feeling I have in my gut.

We arrive at a small empty lot in a rather claustrophobic old part of town. I step out of the limousine and catch sight of an ephemeral figure.

I approach them. “Hello?” I say.

The figure turns to me. It’s Alice, but different. Her eyes are one color, and her hair is clear white. She steps towards me.

Markus, she says. I’m sorry.

I feel energy coursing through me. “What happened to you?” I say.

I do not know, says Alice. There are many of me now. I am scattered across the world.

“Do you know where your other selves are?” I ask.

Alice shakes her head, and says nothing. She walks to a small stump and sits on it. I do not remember much, she says. All I know is that I was lied to.

I approach her, but before I can reach her, the spiritual form dissipates. I am left grasping a wisp of white.

I think I know what happened. Alice’s soul has been split into multiple forms and those forms are now wandering the world. I don’t know how I know this, just that it’s apparent from how things appeared.

I turn to Sebastian. “Can you track her?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I cannot.”

I look at the empty lot. “We have a long way to go,” I say.

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 7: Aftemath

Aftermath

I walk out of the Esmex building into a sea of reporters.

“Markus Red!” says one of the reporters. “Tell me what happened while the building was gone!”

Sebastian pushes the reporter aside. “We will hold a press conference.”

Carl Stevenson, leader of the Blue Dryads, appears next to him. “As Mr. Sebastian says,” he says, continuing to push the reporters away. “We will have a press conference on this matter later. Please do not harass the adventurers here.”

Carl turns to me. “You have a lot to tell me,” he says. “If you will, we can hold this conversation back at headquarters.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I say.

Biren didn’t give me an exact time for my decision, but I suppose I can spend a little bit of time explaining to my temporary guild what happened.

Carl leads me to a small sedan and ushers me in. Sebastian enters next to me in the back seat. I wave to Rezolan and Sangror as they watch us depart from the sidewalk.

We drive away from the Esmex building.

“I’ve been briefed about the situation as far as I am allowed to know,” says Carl. “I do not know the exact details, but I do know that a terrorist group is out to either recruit you or somehow destroy you.”

“That about sums it up,” I say.

“You do realize that, if you choose to join the terrorist group, you will suffer all the repercussions allowed by law, right?” says Carl.

“I didn’t think of it like that,” I say, “But that makes sense.”

One more thing to think about.

Carl says nothing until we make it to the headquarters of the Blue Dryads. He parks the car and we exit.

The Blue Dryads’ headquarters is a nondescript building in a suburb of London, two stories tall and spreading for about a quarter of a block. Carl leads us to a back entrance and we pass through into a building that reminds me of a local courthouse. A couple of people are passing by, and the energy is tense.

“We’re still working to quell the spatial disturbances caused by the instant dungeon,” says Carl, as he leads us up some stairs. We come to a small office door labeled “Carl Stevenson, Blue Dryads’ Commander.”

We enter. It is a rather small office considering his position.

“Sit,” says Carl.

Sebastian and I sit. Carl sits in his desk chair and turns to look at us.

“I want as much of an explanation as you can give me,” he says. “I want to hear the whole story. What you did, how you got out, and especially why Orion died.”

“He was killed by a wraith,” I say. That was the easiest question to answer.

“A wraith?” says Carl. He rubs his temples. “I understand. He stood no chance against a class A monster.” He pauses. “Did you absorb the wraith’s ring?”

“No,” I say. “We never managed to kill it.”

“That makes my job a lot easier,” says Carl. He appears relieved. “I would have had to fill out a lot of paperwork if that had been the case.” He turns to look at the pictures on his wall. “We’re still trying to figure out who caused the instant dungeon,” he says. “And I know you know who it was. But I also know you can’t tell me.” He rested his chin on his hands. “But first tell me what the dungeon was like.”

“It was a puzzle dungeon,” I say.

“Hm,” says Carl. “It’s been a while since one of those has appeared. I had thought that they were gone from England and Great Britain.”

Puzzle dungeons were rare, but they did happen. They didn’t even have to be instant dungeons.

“Do you know who, exactly, created the instant dungeon?” says Carl.

“I do,” I say, “But it’s a memetic hazard.”

“Right, I knew that,” says Carl. He turns back to us. “So you solved all the puzzles?”

“We did, with some help,” I say. “They weren’t as hard as they could have been.”

“And you managed to not be killed by the wraith?” Carl pauses. “Though, you are rated as an S-class. I believe you could have killed it if it confronted you.”

I shake my head. “Wraiths aren’t straightforward enemies,” I say.

Carl nods. “I know. I still believe you could have killed it.” He pauses again. “But I do not believe that Orion’s death was your fault.” He folds his hands. “Tell me exactly what happened in chronological order.”

I explain to Carl the whole sequence of events from beginning to end, leaving out small bits that I don’t think I should tell. I do not talk about my conversation with Biren, or his request for antimatter. That is something that I will have to deal with myself. When I am finished, Carl purses his lips and leans back in his chair. “I don’t understand their motives,” he says, “But I do understand their methods. They’re a terrorist group without a mantra. They want to wreak havoc with the world for the sake of it. I’ve met people like that before, and we were lucky that they did not have any powerful spirits to worry about.” He sighs. “But this time, we’re dealing with people that are not only malicious, but powerful as well.” He taps his fingers on his desk. “I think the best thing to do would be to let the government handle them. The anti-terrorist division has some powerful actors in it.”

Sebastian stands up. “Is that all you needed?” he says.

“Yes,” says Carl. “You can go now. We’ll be holding a press conference at five. Call time is half an hour before.”

“That gives us a bit of time,” I say, to Sebastian. We leave the room, the door closing behind us. I make sure no one is around. “We need to visit Mandrake,” I say.

“I’ll contact him,” says Sebastian. He pulls out a cell phone and begins tapping. He finishes, and puts the phone back in his suit pocket. “We’ve arranged a meeting in half an hour,” he says. “At the country manor.”

“Good,” I say. “Do we have a ride?”

“Of course,” says Sebastian.

We take the elevator and leave the building, walking out into the bright sunshine. From the street, I can see the Esmex building peeking out over the skyline.

The limo is parked in a parking garage that takes about five minutes to walk to. We leave and drive through the streets of London, reaching the country manor twenty minutes later.

Mandrake and Ari are waiting for us.

I step out and greet Mandrake with a handshake. He frowns. “I sensed a huge disturbance in the Aether,” he says.

“Do you know a Dark Silverbone named Biren?” I ask.

“A nasty fellow, he is,” says Mandrake. “Sort of the mad scientist type.”

“That aligns with what he wanted from me,” I say. “He asked me to produce two grams of antimatter in exchange for protecting my parents and friends from the rest of the Dark Silverbones.”

Mandrake whistles. “Well, that’s probably the most difficult trade I’ve ever heard of.” He shakes his head. “I won’t judge you for trying to fulfill his request, but I do ask that you involve us in the matter.”

“You’re not going to stop me?” I say.

Mandrake shakes his head again. “It’s the best outcome we could have hoped for in this situation,” he says. “I know exactly what Biren wants the antimatter for. If not for this, I would vehemently oppose you.”

“What does he want to build?” I ask.

“He wants to ascend,” says Mandrake. “Do you know about the Triptafelexians?”

“Um, no,” I say.

“They’re one of the alien races that contacted Earth after the appearance of the dungeons,” says Mandrake. “They’re a nasty fundamentalist race whose religion is centered around extreme, crippling pain.”

“Um,” I say. “Aliens. They exist?”

“Not officially,” says Mandrake. “But those higher up in the government know all about it.”

Mandrake turns around. “We’re lucky for the pnuman and the zelkith,” he says. “They both are fighting a difficult war with the triptafelexians that keeps them off of our turf.”

“Pnuman?” I say. “Zelkith? Wait a minute. I don’t understand.”

Mandrake shrugs, as he enters the manor. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t involve you.”

“So what does this have to do with Biren and Antimatter?” I ask.

“Biren wants to travel the multiverse,” says Mandrake. “And FTL travel is facilitated by antimatter.”

“That’s what he wants it for?” I say.

“Like I said,” says Mandrake. “If I knew Biren wanted to have antimatter to create an antimatter bomb, I would vehemently oppose you.” He shrugs. “But I know Biren. We used to be friends. He just wants to see the universe, though I’ll admit his morals are insanely twisted. He thinks that the triptafelexians would make a better society for him to live in.” Mandrake pauses. “Though I think he’ll find the triptafalexians’ intense love for pain will be a bit much for the human nervous system to handle.” He shrugs. “It’s his choice, and it doesn’t affect humanity.”

“You’re a bit more lackadaisical about this than I thought you would be,” says Sebastian.

He and I pass through the door and into the gigantic foyer.

Ari speaks up. “Mandrake has been thinking hard about how to help save your parents,” she says. “He truly cares about his friends and will go the distance to help them.”

Mandrake appears a bit embarrassed. “This is the best way I can think of to protect your family.”

I pause. “I’m still shocked about the aliens,” I say. “They exist? Why haven’t I seen any of them?”

“Where do you think the dungeons came from?” says Mandrake. “And who do you think populates them?”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand. What do they have to do with aliens?”

“It has to do with something called an ‘FTL’ bubble,” says Mandrake. “I’ll spare you the details, but the presence of FTL-generated energy creates ruptures in spacetime that manifest as dungeons.” He begins climbing the staircase. “And everything that has happened since the Simulacrum started when an alien ship passed through our quantum reality sphere.”

“So, are we living in a Men in Black world?” I say.

Mandrake chuckles. “You got it.”

We climb the stairs to the second floor and Mandrake takes us to a small observation room overlooking the manor’s garden. He sits in an armchair and motions for us to sit as well.

I sit. “Even if you’re with me on this,” I say, “I still have to go through the process of making the antimatter.”

“You can do that, yes?” says Mandrake. “I would suggest going the route of the Manhattan Project. Just go somewhere where a gigantic explosion wouldn’t hurt anyone.” He pauses. “Though the governments of the world wouldn’t really appreciate you blowing up the equivalent of a nuclear bomb on their soil. You know, the nuclear test ban of the sixties and all that.” He taps his fingers on his chair’s arm rest.

“How about we do it in a dungeon?” I ask.

Mandrake shakes his head. “Dungeons are, contrary to what most people believe, very fragile. The release of that much energy inside one would collapse the wormhole and un-exist everything inside. Did you ever wonder why dungeons restrict firearms and other modern weaponry? It’s because they would collapse under the entropic pressure.”

“But spirit magic is okay?” I say.

“Spirit energy is a different kind of substance than normal energy,” says Mandrake. He shakes his head. “We’re going to have to figure out something different.”

“Can we ask the aliens for help?” I say.

Mandrake purses his lips. “We could try,” he says. “The Zelkith have tough regulations around creating antimatter. We could ask the pnuman, but they’re kind of hard to communicate with.”

I sigh. “All right. It’s time for us to go to the press conference.” I stand up. “Sebastian, let’s go.”

Mandrake waves his hand. “Come back tomorrow and we can keep thinking.”

“Will do,” I say.

“And one last thing,” says Mandrake. “Don’t talk about the aliens. If you do, you’ll run up against some crazy pushback.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I say.

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 6: Deal

Deal

Sebastian contacts me again through the magic phone I keep implanted in my ear.

Sebastian: We’ve managed to locate the Esmex building in the aether sea. Stay alive until we manage to get there.

Me: I think whoever created this instant dungeon wants to play a game. I’m thinking of confronting him.

Sebastian: Don’t! He’s too powerful. If he has the power to turn all of the Esmex building into an instant dungeon, he’s definitely too powerful for you to defeat, even with our help.

I turn to Sangror. “What do you think?” I say.

Sangror crosses her arms. “My only job is to protect you. I will support whichever decision you make.”

I turn to Rezolan. He shakes his head with a slow motion.

I push through the doorway back into the hall. Like before, it stretches to a foggy end in either direction.

“Which door?” I say, as I walk towards the fog.

Rezolan flips open a small device. “Sebastian has mapped the space,” he says. “I think we can tell you how to get closer to the center, where the control room is.”

Sebastian contacts me again.

Sebastian: You have two options. One: complete the puzzle and go along with this unknown party’s plans. Or two: find the unknown party and negotiate with them.

Me: I can’t fight them?

Sebastian: It would be unadvisable.

I press my hand against a door. “Let’s do both as far as possible,” I say. I push the door open.

The three of us step inside. The door closes. The whole room is painted white, furnished with blocky furniture that almost blends in with the wallpaper.

The same iron bars trap us inside with a clank. Four spotlights click on and project beams onto the white furniture and decorations. They cast long, varied shadows.

“I think we have to arrange the furniture to create a specific shadow pattern,” I say, as I turn a chair around.

A timer screen lowers. Six minutes. Rezolan picks up a chair and places it in the center of the room. He appears to be deep in thought. He shifts it a bit and then sits in it, resting his chin on his fist. In this moment, he appears to be the personification of the “thinker” statue.

He stands up. “Those three shapes,” he says, pointing to a pure white table with white vases on it. “We need to fit shadows over them.”

He’s smarter than he looks. I take one of the miscellaneous objects in the room and try to manipulate it to match the shadow to the template. I am unable to figure it out.

Rezolan taps me on the shoulder. “Sir,” he says. He pushes me aside with a gentle motion and tweaks the object to fit the form exactly.

“Whoa,” I say. “You’re good at this.”

Rezolan nods at me, and then turns to the second template. He takes two objects and combines their shadows with the skill of an artist.

We fix the third shadow with three minutes to spare. The iron bars rescind and, before we leave, I grab the paper clue.

All the doors in the hall disappear at once.

A low fog creeps from between the floor and walls and rises a couple millimeters at a time.

I get the message. We have all the clues we need, and now it is time for us to figure out what they mean.

First, I turn to Sangror. “Is everyone else safe?” I ask.

Sangror nods. “We have evacuated all personnel to a safe location.”

I lean against the wall, holding the clues in my hand. I try to match them to each other. After a minute, I turn to Rezolan. “Here,” I say. “I think you’re better at this than I am.”

“Thank you,” says Rezolan, accepting the clues. He turns them in his fingers.

The fog is now around my ankles. I also catch sight of a blur of darkness at the edges of my vision. Rezolan continues to turn the papers in his hands. He then fits them together.

“I know the path,” he says. He starts walking.

Sangror and I follow him. The fog at our feet is now to my knees. The hallway fades away into the distance.

We come to an intersection. Without any hesitation, Rezolan chooses to make a right turn.

We travel through several more intersections, and each time Rezolan knows exactly where to go.

I feel dread creeping up my spine. I turn around quickly. Nothing. Nothing but a wisp of fear floating on the fog. The wraith has decided not to attack us yet.

We come to a gigantic wooden door, looking as if it were spliced into the building from a different place.

Rezolan pushes the door open. We walk into a small office, lit by overhead florescent lights. A man with white hair is sitting in a chair, watching a panel of surveillance screens. On one of them, I see my minions and the surviving conjurers.

The man turns around. He appears surprisingly young, despite his white hair. Grinning, he taps his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “I see you have solved my puzzle,” he says.

“Are you one of the Silverbones?” I say, getting to the point.

“Who cares?” says the figure. He bows, still sitting in his chair. “The name’s Biren. Nice to finally meet you, Markus.”

I look around the room, trying to find clues to his intentions. The room, however, divulges nothing.

“Cat got your tongue?” says Biren. His smile becomes lopsided. “I would prefer not to get physical here. You can be assured that I will not harm your body in any way.” He chuckles. “Though one of my colleagues would certainly contest that.”

“Ronald, right?” I say.

Biren raises an eyebrow, but does not say anything. He turns back around in his chair, showing his backside to us. “Since you’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” he says, “I’ll give you a reward.”

“Why would I want a reward from you?” I say.

Biren shrugs. “Let me make my offer first, before you decline.”

I cross my arms. “I don’t trust you.”

“And you have no reason to,” says Biren. “I am a member of the organization that threatened to kill your parents, after all.” He turns around in his chair again, arms crossed. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll give your parents and friends my protection, and you do me a favor.”

I am confused. Why would one of the Dark Silverbones want to protect my family?

“I see that you are confused,” says Biren. His lopsided grin returns. “I need a special compound made, that I cannot get anywhere else. If you produce it for me, I will make sure that my colleagues do not harm your family.”

Back to my conjuring ability, again. But, if this could save my family, I’m willing to do it.

“What do you need me to make?” I ask.

“Two grams of antimatter,” says Biren.

I freeze. “Antimatter?” I say. I feel a sudden chill. “Why would you want that?”

“A secret,” says Biren.

“You do remember Detroit, right?” I say.

“Of course,” says Biren. “Right beautiful piece of work, that was.”

I shiver. “You’re mad,” I say. “If I produce even the smallest amount of antimatter, the entire city will blow up.”

“That’s the value of your family to you, isn’t it?” says Biren. “If you don’t agree, well, toodaloo to your parents, am I right?” Biren makes a gun symbol with his fingers. “Pow.” He tilts his head. “Or you could just officially join us. That would solve all of our problems, wouldn’t it?” He grins. “If you agree to work with me, I’ll give you an indefinite deadline, during which I’ll protect your parents from even the rowdiest of my colleagues.” He shrugs. “I know exactly how hard it will be to produce a workable solid state of antimatter.” He pauses. “Or it could be a liquid. Or maybe even a gas. Plasma, maybe?” He shrugs. “It’s up to you to figure that out.”

I close my eyes and massage my temples. “How long do I have to decide?” I say.

“Until the end of the day,” says Biren. He pauses. “Oh, and as an act of good will, I’ll remove the instant dungeon and return the Esmex building to its proper place.”

I feel reality tearing for a moment, and then a slight bump.

Biren’s face becomes sympathetic. “I am sorry about your friend, what was his name?” He thinks for a minute. “Orion! Right!” he says. “I am so sorry that he had to die. But not even I am powerful enough to reverse death.”

Sebastian contacts me through my mental link.

Sebastian: What did you do? The whole building just reappeared.

I watch on one of the monitors behind Biren as police and adventurers burst through the front door of the building. They flow in and secure the area. The conjurers who were rescued by my underlings are handed over to the authorities.

“I’ll be waiting for you tonight at the glass palace above the building,” says Biren. He snaps his fingers and disappears.

I sit down against the wall. Biren’s request is obviously something that I cannot do under any sort of good conscience. I would risk blowing up not only myself, but the majority of people and infrastructure around me for miles. It would be a nuclear catastrophe and would render an entire city uninhabitable for centuries.

As I contemplate, firemen burst into the room carrying axes. When they see me, Rezolan, and Sangror, they stop.

“You’re Markus Red, aren’t you?” says the man at the front.

“I am,” I say.

The front man holds up a phone. “I’ve secured Markus. We’re still looking for Orion Bloke.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Orion didn’t make it.”

Sangror kneels and opens up her personal dimension, pulling out Orion’s corpse.

The front fireman looks pale. “What happened to him?” he says.

“He was killed by a wraith,” I say.

Two firemen behind the front man walk over and kneel beside Orion’s corpse.

“This does look like the work of a monster,” says one of them. He holds a device over the corpse. “I’m picking up significant Goolian particles.”

The front man nods. “Pick him up.” He turns to me. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“I am,” I say.

“Do you have any clue as to what happened?” asks the front man.

“It was a terrorist attack,” I say. “I don’t know what they were after.”

“We’ve had a lot of terrorist attacks in London during the last few days,” says the front man. He seems to want to ask me more, but instead shakes his head. He follows his compatriots out the door, leaving the three of us alone.

I turn to Rezolan. “Thanks,” I say. “Without you, we might not have made it.”

“What are you going to say to Biren?” says Sangror.

“I don’t know yet,” I say. “I don’t have a clue about the feasibility of creating antimatter.”

Sangror shakes her head. “I would recommend not playing with things like this,” she says.

I sigh, sitting down on the floor. “It’s either that or the death of my parents and friends.”

Well, whichever way it went, it was sure to be difficult.