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.