The Alchemist chapter two

Chapter 2

I stood on the platform at the top of the palisades. From the east, the opposite side from where I had come from, a black mass approached the town. I could smell them on the wind. Absolutely disgusting. No one ever mentioned the fact that you can smell an orc horde from a mile away.

A young boy climbed up the stairs to the palisade platform and began handing out bows and arrows. I took one, even though I had never fired a bow in my life.

The orc army came closer.

This is a serious Lord of the Rings situation, I thought. Well. It won’t hurt to see what I can do with my alchemy power.

A pillar of light appeared in the center of the orc army. An angel, dressed in pure white, came through parted clouds and descended upon the field between the town and the orcs. She held a fiery sword of judgement in her hands, and slashed through a hundred orcs with one clean movement.

“Who’s that?” I asked the man standing next to me.

“Aye, she’s one of the Guardians,” he said. He squinted, blocking the sun with his hands. “We’re right lucky to have her on our side.”

A griffon came out from behind the clouds and landed next to the angel. Four people got off its back and stood in a group against the army of orcs.

The angel spoke, loud enough that I could hear it, more than two football fields away.

“You orcs go back where you came from!” she said. “Unless you want to face the wrath of the gods!”

The orc leader replied, though I could not hear him.

“The demon lord’s time has not come as of yet,” said the angel. “As long as we are here to stand against him.”

The orc army was silent for a long while. Then, they turned around and began to retreat.

How powerful are these Guardians? I thought. With five people, they scared away an army?

The angel then turned around and looked directly at me. Even though she was far away, I could feel her gaze selecting me out of the men lining the palisade.

I pointed to myself. Me?

The angel flew into the air and sped towards me. She stopped right in front of me, hovering.

“You,” she said. “I feel a massive confluence of mana coming from your person.”

“Uh,” I said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You have mana powerful enough to move a mountain,” she said. “I was not aware of someone like you in this region.” Her eyes glinted with danger. “Are you with us? Or against us?”

“With you, with you,” I said, quickly. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“We’re still going to have to question you,” said the angel. “My name is Claude. Cooperate with me and you won’t be harmed.”

“Um, are you going to take me somewhere?” I asked.

Claude snapped her fingers. I floated up, following her as she spirited away above the fields.

“I have to return my bow!” I said, as the wind whipped around me.

“We can do that later,” said Claude. “Don’t worry. Richtown can handle the loss of a single short bow.”

“Do you know what my power is?” I said.

“No,” said Claude. “Only that you will be a danger if we don’t keep an eye on you.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, as the countryside sped past beneath me.

“Somewhere,” said Claude.

The griffon that had carried the rest of the group came into formation behind me. I could see the faces of the four magical warriors who were riding it. If the five of them were powerful enough to get an orc army to retreat, what was I getting myself into?

Claude said nothing as she took me across the landscape, past several more towns that were all surrounded by walls.

A gigantic lone mountain appeared out of the distant fog, and we headed straight for it.

We landed at the mountain’s tip. Warmth surrounded me.

This is a volcano, I realized. Cool! Nice place for a superhero base.

A hidden door opened on its own and we entered the mountain from the side. The door closed as soon as the griffon touched down.

Claude let go of me and I collapsed to the floor.

“Okay?” I said. “What now?”

“We see what you can do,” she said.

I took a look at the area around me. There was a significant amount of equipment, but most of it was in a state of disrepair. If this were a bat cave, then Batman was running out of money.

“Pardon the mess,” said one of the griffon riders. “We haven’t had the chance to clean up.” He extended his hand. “My name’s Drex.”

“Um, Markus,” I said.

Drex shook my hand vigorously. “Beside me are Tanna, Blasé, and Itrim. Together with Claude, we’re the Guardians.”

“Guardians of what?” I asked. I took another look around the superhero hideout. “The world, or something?”

“Exactly,” said Claude. “We protect the people of this realm against the evils of the demon lord.”

I looked at the worn-down equipment filling the base. “Looks like you guys are in a bad financial place,” I said.

“Ah, yeah,” said Drex. “Our main supporter pulled out a couple of months ago. We’ve been trying to make ends meet since then.”

“Hah,” said Claude. “We don’t need that dumb noble house’s support to do our job.”

Itrim held out his hand. He was a tall, lanky man with dark skin and a close-cropped haircut. “We can argue about this later,” he said. “For now, we have to focus on what to do with this magician.”

“He could join us,” said Tanna.

“Join?” said Claude. “That easy? We don’t know what kind of a person he is!”

“He is emanating a good aura,” said Itrim. “I doubt we’ll be able to find a person more suited for our cause.”

“I trust you, Itrim,” said Drex. “Claude? How about you?”

Claude looked away from me. “I trust you,” she said. “I just don’t want a repeat of what happened last year.”

The room was silent for a while. Then Blasé walked up to me and held out her hand. “I, for one, welcome our new member,” she said.

“Wait,” I said. “You never said anything about me joining you guys.”

Blasé chuckled. “It’s either join us or be imprisoned here. Now that we’ve let you see our base, we have to make sure you’re on our side.”

What a laissez faire approach to secret base hiding policy, I thought. These people need some help. A brains, maybe.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what I’ll be able to do for you.”

“Your mana confluence is huge,” said Claude. “Bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. Are you from this world?”

“Actually, no,” I said.

Claude looked taken aback for a moment.

“How so?” asked Drex. “Where did you come from?”

“A place called America,” I said.

“Never heard of it,” said Drex. He rubbed his chin. “It could be a place in an alternate globe,” he said. “I’ve heard of people traveling across the phlogiston and reaching different globes.”

“Phlogiston? Globes?” I said.

“Are you not familiar with your cosmology?” asked Drex.

“No, I know what those are. I’ve played enough D&D to know what those words mean.”

“D and … D?” said Drex.

I shook my head. “Never mind. Let’s just say that I’m not from around here.”

“Well,” said Itrim. “It’s the first time I’ve ever met someone from across the phlogiston.” He extended his hand. “I give you a cordial greeting.”

I shook his hand. Looking around, I picked up a broken piece of leather armor. “You guys are in serious need of finances,” I said. “How about this. I make precious metals to sell and finance your operation, and you guys help me find a way home.”

“You want to return to your own sphere?” said Itrim.

“Of course,” I said. “A new video game is coming out and I want to play it.”

“Video …” said Itrim. The rest of the Guardians looked equally confused.

Well, I couldn’t blame them. I placed my hand on the ground and sucked up about five ounces of gold, forming them into a disc. “See?” I said. “Plenty of money here.” I chuckled to myself. “Just don’t sell to much of it or you’ll upend the market.”

Itrim scratched his beard. “We’ll have to negotiate with the goldsmiths’ guild …” he said. “And the miners …”

I shrugged. “You guys can do that, right?” I asked.

“First, though,” said Claude. “Where does that metal come from?”

“You do know that elemental compounds exist in small concentrations everywhere, right?” I said. “Dirt is full of small amounts of precious metals. Especially here, inside a volcano. There’s a constantly refreshing source of metals that I can draw from.” I pulled a small amount of neodymium from the ground. “Take this, for example,” I said. I then pulled up some cobalt. “If I combine it like this,” I said, “And then like this, you can create a very strong magnet.” I created a neodymium magnet and used it to pick up a steel sword. The magnet was no larger than a quarter.

“Let me see that,” said Claude. She took it from me and used it to pick up a piece of armor. “How did you make a magnet this strong?” she said.

“It’s all about the tempering process,” I said. “If you let the metals cool in a magnetic field, using a specific alloy, you can create an alignment of atoms …” I paused. “How much materials science do you guys know?”

“Um,” said Claude. “I think I can tell you how they make steel.”

“Great,” I said. “That’s a start.”

Itrim folded his hands. “I was taught in the ways of Alican metalsmithing when I was young,” he said. “I can make steel so sharp that it will cut individual hairs on your body.”

“Yeah!” I said. “Well, magnets work like … Um, a bunch of people all pushing a certain way.”

“People?” said Claude. She looked around. “Well, we can talk about this later. I’m glad that you’ve offered to help us with our finances. However, we don’t know you very well and can’t accept you as one of us until we’re confident in your character. You do want to work with us, yes?”

“Sure,” I said. “I was told that I came here so that I could fight the demon lord. I suppose that working with you I can get closer to that goal.”

The room was silent.

“You’re here for a purpose?” said Claude.

I nodded. “I guess,” I said. “That’s the impression I got.”

Claude and the rest of the Guardians exchanged glances. “You are a godsend to us at this moment,” said Claude. “Our finances have been in shambles since our rift with the Roman household.”

“And I can help you fix that!” I said. I shrugged. “But I’m not committed one way or another. We’ll just have to see what happens next.”

“Indeed,” said Itrim. “Very well. You can join the Guardians as a trial member until we can figure out what to do. Markus, I formally welcome you to our team.”

It had been half an hour since I landed here in the base, and now I was one of them.

I hope this works out the way I’m hoping it will, I thought to myself. I smiled as best I could, and turned to the equipment piled up along the wall. “Well,” I said. “My first job should be to fix this stuff.”

“Thanks,” said Claude. She looked at Itrim, and the two nodded.

And that was how I joined the Guardians.  

The Refiner Chapter One

Chapter 1

My whole life I’ve lived in a junkyard. Today is a day like every other, spending my time after school working to lift and salvage the various pieces of junk that flow through my family’s yard. It’s dangerous business, but I’m so used to it that it barely registers as work.

My parents run Alroe Junkyard, a run-of-the-mill scrap recycling center on the outskirts of a suburb. Towers of rusted cars, broken bins, and various other metal objects loom over my family’s house. The interior is packed with smaller scrap, like microwaves and old toys and defunct shopping carts. It feels normal to me, and I’ve never been anywhere different.

Work ends at the usual time. I climb up a pile of broken sedans covered in red rust and sit down at a small perch between two vehicles. The moon is rising over the city in the distance, spreading its light onto the eerie formations of junk that surround me.

I’ve spent many evenings atop towers of junk like this. This is one of my favorite spots.

I catch sight of a shooting star spiraling downwards, straight towards my family’s junkyard. With a puff of smoke, much less than could be expected from a meteor or something natural, it lands in a small clearing in the junkyard’s center. I scamper down the pile of junk I’m sitting on and traverse the canyons until I reach the site.

It’s a small metal pod, alien-like, releasing a wisp of smoke. I reach out and feel that it is cold.

The door opens. A wiggling mass of worms lurches out at me.

I grab the nearest steel beam and smack the worm away.

The wiggling mass straightens itself and turns towards me. Though it has no eyes, I know it is looking at me.

This is an alien. I’ve had a close encounter.

The alien life form backs away a couple of steps. It shimmers for a moment, and then turns into a small, fairy-like person of about human proportions. It coughs a couple of times.

“Wrong zoology, damnit,” the doll says. Her visage flickers like a video game glitch. “This is Sol, not Darkun. Damn traders lied to me.” She coughs again, and then turns to me. “You,” she says. “Be my host.”

I take a step back. “Host?” I say.

The doll flickers and then takes a couple of steps towards me. “Indeed. Host. I need one to survive more than five minutes on this planet. Unlike you giants, my species isn’t capable of withstanding seventeen gravities for long.” A burbling sound comes out of her mouth. “You do speak American English, don’t you?”

I take another step back, wielding my steel rod.

The fairy-alien looks at my makeshift weapon with an expression of curiosity. “Is that true steel?” she says. “Your species is, how would you put it, not even K 1?”

“Er, no,” I say.

“I’ll cut you a deal,” says the fairy. “You let me inhabit you, and I give you powers that are beyond your comprehension.”

I shake my head. “That comes with a caveat, right?”

“You betcha,” says the fairy-alien. She cracks her neck and her whole body goes glitchy. “Technically I’m not a physical essence like you are. I have a mission to complete and lots of enemies after me. I can merge with your spirit and give you access to The Realm. In return, you can work with me to achieve my goals.”

“What’s The Realm?” I ask.

“A place where you can earn lots of money,” says the fairy. “I have information that tells me that’s all I need to convince you monkeys.” She tilts her head. “Unless you don’t like to be compared with a species several hundred thousand years removed from your bloodline?”

I see a shadow atop the nearest pile of junk. A ninja? No, my eyes must be going crazy due to this little alien here.

But, no. The ninja reveals itself, holding a thin, shining blade.

The fairy turns to look at it. “Welp. Looks like the Flowers Guild has located me already.” The fairy turns to me. “Absorb me, or let me die. It’s your choice.”

I hesitate.

The ninja leaps down from the pile of junk and lands in front of me, between me and the alien. All I can see are his or her eyes, as her figure blends into the darkness of the night.

“Give up the Atristian,” says the ninja, in a female voice.

“Do you even need his permission?” says the Atristian. She disappears and then reappears on my shoulder. “I’ve claimed him first.”

The ninja pulls out another blade. “I see you have made a pact with my enemy,” she says. “Now you will have to die.”

I swing my steel bar wildly and smash it into the ninja’s face. The steel beam comes to a halt a millimeter before her skin and a reverberating backlash runs through my arms.

The fairy alien melds with my body and I suddenly get the feeling that there is another person inside me. Nothing much more than a feeling, but it’s enough to put me off balance.

“Well, we didn’t have much choice now, did we?” says the alien fairy. “Call me Alice. I’ll be with you for as long as you don’t die.” My body is surrounded by a beam of light, and then I am floating high above the city, with my parent’s junkyard just a tiny little square below me.

Wind rips around my ears, and I see the entirety of the Area Valley spread out before me. The lights remind me of a starfield.

“I can fly?” I say, out of surprise.

“You can’t,” says Alice. “I used an emergency skill. We’ll float down, but I need you to direct your fall in the direction I indicate.” She pauses. “I won’t tell you where I’m taking you now, but know that if anyone asks, I’m an Ethelitarian, not an Atristian.”

“What’s the difference?” I ask.

“Everyone likes Ethes, and no one likes Atristians,” says Alice. “Don’t ask me how it got that way. Go south.”

“Which way is south?” I ask.

An arrow points away from me, floating in space.

“Am I the only one who can see that?” I ask.

“Indeed,” says Alice. “Now go. The Flowers Guild will be interrogating your parents, but they won’t hurt them. The Flowers Guild doesn’t operate like that.”

“Why are they trying to kill you?” I ask.

“Capture me, not kill me,” says Alice. “It’s because all aliens that don’t go through customs get deported.”

“Is that enough to threaten to kill me?” I ask.

“That’s probably just that individual agent’s style,” says Alice. “Go east.”

An arrow points east. I follow it.

“That compound there,” says Alice. “It’s a safe harbor.”

I float down towards the compound that Alice points at, landing in a courtyard. The whole area is lit by high power arc lamps.

“You said something about seventeen gravities,” I say, as I look around the empty courtyard.

“You homo sapiens live on one of the largest habitable planets in the galaxy. Add that to the fact that most species live in solution and you have a recipe for an alien pancake.”

“And you didn’t wear a suit?” I ask.

“You just couldn’t see it,” says Alice. “It’s in another dimension.”

An arrow points me towards a central building. “Go there,” says Alice.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“A government-run facility,” says Alice. “It will offer a safe harbor for any alien refugees for a period of time.”

“You’re a refugee?” I ask.

Alice is silent.

I come to the doorway of the building and push it open. A receptionist looks up at me from her desk. Her eyes look like those of a cat.

“Hello, darling,” says the receptionist. “We’re not accepting visitors at this moment.”

“I’m not here to visit,” is say. “I merged with a, uh, an Ethilitarian.”

“Hum,” says the receptionist. “What’s your name?”

“Mason Alroe,” I say.

“We’ll have you sorted out in no time,” says the receptionist. “Please stay seated here so that I can fill out some paperwork.” She hands me a pen, a stack of paperwork, and a clip board.

“This is not what I was expecting,” I say, to Alice.

“Just roll with it,” says Alice. “I’m not the one who sets up alien bureaucracy.”

“How did you know about this place?” I ask.

“The internet,” says Alice. “You homo sapiens do have that figured out, at least.”

“So you’ve never been here,” I ask.

“No,” says Alice. “But then again, I’d never set foot on Earth before two hours ago.”

“About that power you were saying you would give me,” I ask.

“The Realm?” says Alice. “Ah, yeah. There are plenty of you homo sapiens who participate in The Realm. Not everyone has had contact with an alien, but it’s a thing that transcends species and interstellar space.”

“You said I could make money,” I say.

“Depends on how your power manifests.”

I fill out a few check boxes on the forms I was given. “Well, then how do I get it to manifest?” I ask.

“Just think about it,” says Alice.

I think about it. A light forms in my hand, and then a roll of copper wire falls out.

“Hey, cool!” says Alice. “You’re a refiner!”

“Wait, what?” I say, as I examine the wire. It’s good quality. I shove it into my pocket and then continue filling out the form. When I’m done I hand it to the receptionist, who hasn’t been paying me any attention.

“Thanks, honey,” she says.

“So, a refiner," I say, as I sit back down. “What can I do?”

“Create stuff,” says Alice. “Refine stuff.”

“This is a bit anticlimactic,” I say.

“Not really,” says Alice. “With a refining skill, you can do almost anything. It’s the second most versatile skill category, behind scribe.”

“Can I make a tank?” I ask.

“Given enough time, yes,” says Alice. “But you’d need to absorb that much material first.”

“I live in a junkyard,” I say. “I have enough scrap lying around to create an armored division.”

“Hahaha!” laughs Alice. “Let’s see you do that. After all, I didn’t come here to Earth to just sightsee.”

“What did you come here for?” I ask.

“Let’s deal with one thing at a time,” says Alice.

The receptionist stands up. “Mr. Alroe,” she says, “Please follow me.”

I follow the receptionist down a hall. She stops at a door to an office and knocks. “Dr. Bast,” she says, “We have a fusion.”

“Come in,” says a man’s voice.

I step into the room. The receptionist backs away.

“I hear you absorbed an Ethelitarian,” he says. “We know who you are and we’ve already acted to blank your parents and anyone who was close to you.”

“Wait, what?” I ask.

“They think you just transferred abroad for a program,” says Dr. Bast.

“What?” I say. “It’s been three hours since I last met the alien inside me!”

“We work fast because we have to,” says Dr. Bast. “Don’t worry. We won’t hurt you. You have a lot of value to a number of organizations. But, since you’re new to this, you’re going to have to go to school as well.”

“School?” I say. “What the hell is happening? I didn’t sign up for any of this!”

“You contracted with an alien,” says Dr. Bast. “That means that you will be hunted.” He tilts his head. “Have you already had an encounter with that?”

“Er, yeah,” I say. “Someone called the Flowers Guild.”

“Ah, yes,” says Dr. Bast. “Them. I don’t envy you.”

“What is going to happen to me?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” says Dr. Bast. “But I know you’ll have lots of adventures from here on out.”

“And don’t think of running,” says Alice. “I need your help. And we’re going to do what I’ve come here to do.”

I sigh. “Okay. At least it’s better than the life that I had before.”

Avarice: The Realm Chapter 7: Blood Oath

Blood Oath

The next job won’t be as easy as the first. I caught Mandrake Signa and his gang off guard; they didn’t even know anyone was after them. From here on out they’re going to be ready for me.

After I arrive at Fort Lincoln in a burst of light, I am greeted by Pierre, who grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me into a makeshift tent near the fast travel tower.

I enter, and most of the Fort Lincoln brass is there. Their faces tell me everything.

“He retaliated,” I say. I cough into my hand.

Pierre nods. “Much faster than we thought he would,” he says. “It’s been ten minutes since you successfully captured Ronald Delinsky.”

I hold out the apprehension module. “You should probably take this.”

One of the brass grabs it and slips it into a secured, tracked, and electrified storage container.

Pierre turns away from me, facing the wall. “And we’ve had an attack on an embassy near the British Fort Dunkirk. Two diplomats were killed, and we’ve had a lot of injuries to important people.”

“So he knows it was me,” I say. I feel a little tingle coming up through my arms.

“Not you exactly,” says Pierre. “But the US. We’ve beefed up security around all of our bases, but we’re not sure that we’ll be able to withstand Mandrake’s wrath.”

I cough, and a wave of dizziness takes over me. I know exactly what is happening.

Blowback.

“I can deal with that later,” I say, as I clutch my stomach. “If you need me.”

Pierre nods. “We’re all Freax users here,” he says. “There’s a blowback clinic just two buildings down.”

I cough up a thick, green fluid. The familiar feeling of numbness inserts itself into my abdomen.

I stagger out of the tent. As I do, I hear one of the officers speaking.

“Are you sure he can handle this?” the officer says.

“I know he can,” says Pierre.

I peel away before I can hear the rest of the conversation.

The blowback clinic is just like the one run by my friend, Daxton, in the real world.

I enter through an automatic door and am met with a blast of air-conditioned cool. There are two bialysis chambers against the wall. One of them is being used.

“Is it that time of the month again?” says a man in a lab coat. He is wearing a lopsided grin.

I clutch my stomach. “Yeah,” I say.

“I’m Doctor Fan,” says the man.

“Great,” I say, still holding my stomach. “Just get me cleaned up.”

“Clothes off,” says Fan.

I turn my armor back into card form and do the same for my clothes. I am standing in my underwear, and it feels a bit chilly.

Fan puts a special bismuth bronze fabric over my body, sort of like a magical hospital gown.

“Since The Realm is only accessible by Freax users,” says Fan, “There are plenty of places to get detoxed.” He shrugs. “But even so it’s pretty expensive.”

I step into the bialysis machine and lay against the fabric. I close my eyes.

My mind clicks. I am used to it by now, but even so it’s a difficult process. My soul rises out of my body and stands in the middle of a cluttered mess of a house. There are trash bags full of takeout boxes everywhere. The sink is overflowing with dishes and algae. Cockroaches scanter across the floor.

I walk through all the trash bags and head up worn stairs to the second floor. One room is filled to the brim with old furniture.

The whole house has a nostalgic feel, as if I had lived here as a child and forgotten it.

I begin the cleanup process. I know that, in the real world, I am being injected with liquid Freax. But to me, in the depths of my mind, it takes the form of an army of robot maids who skitter about the house, picking up trash, dusting, doing the laundry and the dishes.

This is what Freax does to the mind. It changes you. It controls you. Once you’ve taken the drug, you have to keep taking it. Forget heroin withdrawals; if I were ever to stop taking the Freax drug, I would die a horrible and painful death.

Superpowers come at a cost, after all.

The robot maids toss all the garbage into a portable lava bucket, each bag sizzling before disappearing into the red abyss. They wipe everything down, fumigate, and rearrange the furniture.

After about half an hour of experienced time my mind-house is cleaner than it’s been since the last booster dose.

I wake up underneath the metallic dome of the bialysis machine.

“Your vitals are all good,” says Fan. “You were out for eight hours.”

I sigh. That’s about normal for a Freax booster and bialysis operation. Normally this process would run me about two thousand dollars, but ever since I started working with the government I’ve been getting the operation for free.

I get up out of the machine. As soon as I do, another marine gets in.

“Binder.” I take the cards representing my clothes and armor and equip them.

Once out of the bialysis clinic, I am greeted by Pierre.

“This was the worst possible time for you to get blowback,” he says. “We’ve needed you desperately for the past eight hours.”

“Another attack?” I ask.

“No,” says Pierre. “It’s Ronald Delinsky. ReaperGoon.”

“And?” I say.

“He refuses to talk to anyone but you,” says Pierre. “We’re not allowed to use any more … Painful methods to extract information. But something tells me you’ll be able to get something out of him.”

“Don’t you have mind affecting Freax users here?” I ask.

Pierre shakes his head. “We tried. This man has been trained to resists mind-altering Freax abilities.”

I sigh. “Take me to him.”

Pierre leads me through Fort Lincoln until we reach an entrance to an underground bunker. We ride an elevator several floors down and step into a well-lit hallway. People with lab coats are walking back and forth.

“This is our research lab and quarantine unit,” says Pierre. He leads me to a nondescript door at the end of the hall.

I open it. The room is dark, and there is a shadowy figure strapped to a chair in the rooms center.

“Heh, heh,” says the figure.

Pierre turns on the light. The figure in the chair is Ronald Delinsky.

Ronald spits. “You knocked out several of my teeth with that footlock trick,” he says, wearing a dangerous lop-sided grin.

“You wanted to talk to me?” I say.

Ronald laughs. “No! I want to kill you!” He cackles. “Mandrake is going to repay you tenfold for what you’ve done to me.”

Yuck. I really don’t like this type of person.

“Just tell me what you want with me,” I say, “And we can end this early.”

Ronald laughs again. “Like I’ll ever do what you want!” His laugh is maniacal. He knows that he is in trouble.

I sigh, and sit down on a chair directly across from Ronald.

“We can do this the easy way,” says Pierre, “Or we can do this the hard way.”

“You Americans don’t have the guts to torture me,” says Ronald.

Pierre shrugs. “The Geneva convention states that we can’t torture prisoners. However,” Pierre puts on a very scary face, “The Realm isn’t beholden to those rules.”

Ronald spits. “You Americans have, like, some sort of election thing going, right?” he says. “You do something to me and you lose that chance!”

“First,” says Pierre, “Military personnel aren’t elected.” He holds up two fingers. “Second, no one has to know what happened to you.”

Ronald cackles. “Well, I’m dead anyways,” he says. “And I’ll take my secrets to the grave.” He winks at me. “I just wanted you here so that I could do this. Binder. Tracking Beacon!”

A flash of light surrounds me and my skin begins to tingle.

“This is not good,” says Pierre.

Ronald continues to laugh, and then his body boils.

“Binder,” I yell. “Ethereal shield!”

A shield made of yellow crosses surrounds me just as a lance made of boiling blood slams against it. A foul-smelling steam surrounds me.

Pierre gags. “That’s nasty,” he says.

It looks like, in his final moment, Ronald used his own blood as a weapon to try and kill me.

“Is there a card to remove tracking beacons?” I ask.

“It’s a Gold Card,” says Pierre. “And the US government does not have one.”

This is going to affect my work. Now, Mandrake and his goons are going to know exactly where I am at all times.

Not good.

I examine Ronald’s body. His skin has shriveled, and all the blood in his body is gone.

“Nasty,” says Pierre. He puts his hand to his ear. “Yeah. Call the biohazard cleanup crew.” He puts his hand down. “Sorry to subject you to this,” he says.

“I’ve seen worse,” I say. Though, the room is giving me some strange vibes. I back out as slow as I can and let Pierre close the door.

I stand in the hallway, my hands in my pockets.

Pierre sighs. “He pulled one over on us,” he says.

I shake my head. “You had no idea.”

“I should have anticipated that!” says Pierre. “I’m a veteran of the Realm.” He grits his teeth. “But, to tell you the truth, I’ve never actually been in a real binder battle.” He turns away from me. “And it showed.”

I put my arm on Pierre’s shoulder. “I can deal with this,” I say. “As soon as Mandrake and his goons are dead, I’ll be safe. I just have to strike first.”

“Right,” says Pierre. “We’ll support you all the way.”

I walk to the elevator and take it up to the surface. Pierre is silent.

Garnet is leaning against a wall outside the entrance to the underground bunker. “Did you get anything out of him?” she asks.

I shake my head. “He put a tracker on me and then killed himself.”

Garnet scoffs. “He deserved whatever he got,” she says.

“It’s going to get tough,” I say. “Mandrake will most likely continue to retaliate. Now that he knows where I am at all times, I’ll have a lot of difficulty sneaking up on him.”

“So what are you going to do?” asks Garnet.

“I have a plan,” I say. “It involves the card Focus Teleport. You have some of those, right?”

Garnet shrugs. “I mean, yeah. We have a lot of cards here.”

“Get me two copies of Focus Teleport,” I say. “And ID some sort of physical object that both of Mandrake’s remaining underlings are in possession of that they may leave in a place I can reach.”

“Um, okay,” says Garnet. “That’s a pretty specific order.”

“It’s necessary,” I say.

“I’ll get our intel team on it,” says Pierre.

Pierre and Garnet split to do their respective jobs. I sit down on a metal bench and put my chin in my hands, watching the X-marines walk past. They’re doing some sort of tank exercise, and about a dozen Abrams tanks are rolling across the demonstration grounds.

A man wearing a black fedora approaches me. I recognize the pin on his lapel; it’s the emblem of the Black Marches.

“You’re pretty brazen to make your way into a US military base,” I say, as the man sits down next to me.

The man tips his hat. “Indeed,” he says. “I have a message to deliver. Someone has put a hit out on you.”

“I had guessed that,” I say. “Why are you telling me this?”

“That someone is an enemy,” says the man. “As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, yes?”

“Hah,” I say. “Mandrake Signa must have done something stupid to get on the bad side of the Black Marches.”

“It’s not Mandrake,” says the man. “Mandrake is cookies compared to the person we’re talking about.”

“Sure,” I say. “But my job is to deal with Mandrake.”

“And that’s what you’ll do,” says the man. “Just keep a few Ethereal Shield cards handy.” He passes me half of a medallion. It looks like the metal has been sheared with powerful bolt cutters.

“This is one half of the Gold Card called Rainbow Coin,” says the man. “And Mandrake has the other half. Once you unite the two pieces, something special will happen.”

“You obviously gain something from that, right?” I say.

The man shrugs. “Of course. I work for profit, after all.” He winks. “And you might receive a reward as well.”

“What’s to stop me from keeping the card?” I say.

The man stands up. “You won’t.” He pulls out a black card. “Evecin.” A familiar pillar of light surrounds him and then he is gone.

Garnet runs up to where I am sitting. “I just saw a transfer light,” she says. “What happened?”

I shake my head. “Just a secret organization contacting me to give me a job,” I say. I hold up the half of the Gold Card. “Do you know what this is?”

“No,” says Garnet. She takes it from me and looks at it under the sunlight. “Isn’t this Bismuth Bronze?”

“I guess,” is say. “I’m no expert on metals.”

Garnet hands the half medallion back to me. “Well, if you do actually find a gold card, the government will buy it off you for an exorbitant price.”

“What are we talking?” I ask.

“Millions,” says Garnet.

Is that what the Black Marches representative meant when he said I wouldn’t keep it?

“Card,” I say.

The medallion stays inert.

“Card,” I say again.

The medallion refuses to turn into card form. I slip it into my pocket.

“Mandrake Signa has the other half,” I say.

“Looks like you have another reason to do your job,” says Garnet.  

“Sure,” I say. “As if I didn’t already have enough of a reason.”

Garnet turns away from me. “I’ll contact you via telepathy if I find out anything more.” Then she heads towards the HQ building.

It’s time to get to work capturing my next target.

Avarice: The Realm Chapter six: First Job

First Job

Grinding our way through the dungeon’s lower floors is a tedious, uninteresting job that involves killing infinitely-respawning monsters while following a repeating pattern that maximizes our kill rate and minimizes our expenditure of energy. I gain about twenty-five levels in the first week of grinding, and it takes me another three weeks to reach level fifty.

Fifty is the lowest that one can be and maintain a workable advantage in the “Player-Versus-Player” realm—which is, of course, my ultimate goal.

When I finally reach level fifty, I take a moment to celebrate and then return to Fort Lincoln via fast travel. It is there that I am to receive my first assignment.

I stand in the briefing room with some of the top brass at Fort Lincoln. They stand in a row around the projection screen.

A picture of a man appears on the screen. Pierre points to it with a laser pointer.

“This is Mandrake Signa,” says Pierre, “Known in-game as Mother of Death.” He clicks the presentation. “He is known for being able to plant bombs anywhere he touches and detonate them remotely.” Pierre clicks the presentation again. “As you can probably guess, the ability to create and plant bombs at will goes really well with the job of being a terrorist.”

“This man is responsible for five attacks on US soil,” says one of the brass standing against the wall. “And seven attacks on other countries. He has an INTERPOL arrest warrant out for him. However, INTERPOL doesn’t deal inside The Realm.”

“Right,” says Pierre. “Don’t underestimate this man. He has multiple accomplices, all of whom are dangerous in their own right.”

I salute. “I can handle him,” I say.

“We don’t doubt you can,” says Pierre. “Your track record is impressive. Three targets last year, twenty-two in total.”

“Thank you for that assessment,” I say.

Pierre nods. “Great. We’ll give you all the information we know about Mandrake Signa and let you do what you do best.” He pulls a paper file out of a cabinet. “Here’s the dossier,” he says. “One for Mandrake and three for his known accomplices.”

I take the files. “Is there anything else?” I ask.

Pierre shakes his head. “No. That’s everything we know.” He salutes. “Good luck.”

I leave the room and head to my personal room in the officers’ barracks. I lock the door and sit down at the room’s wooden desk. Spreading out the files in front of myself, I put up a cork board and begin sticking pins in it.

It looks like Mother of Death’s three accomplices are Ronald Delinsky, known as ReaperGoon; Brandi Knock, known as Ratsi; and Peter Draws, known as ColorfulAmber.

ReaperGoon is a watermancer who can produce high-pressure streams of water, enough to cut through flesh and bone. Ratsi can summon gigantic rats. ColorfulAmber can draw things on a piece of paper and have them become real.

Mother of Death’s goons might not be as difficult to take down, but I still need to keep my guard up. The things I learned about card battles while grinding in the dungeon will definitely affect how I go about my hunt.

I prepare a strategy. I’m going to take out Mother of Death’s three goons before I go after him. From what I’ve experienced, when a kingpin has powerful underlings, he’s more likely to run and hide and let his underlings do his work for him.

I plan on striking ReaperGoon first.

“Binder,” I say. I flip through my binder until I find the Unconnected Track card. It allows me to see the general location of a player. In order to see more detailed information, I would have to use the Tracking Beacon card and attach it to them. However, just knowing which part of The Realm they’re in is good enough for me.

It appears ReaperGoon is currently somewhere in the western portion of the Eastern Biome, somewhat near the entrance gates.

I head to Fort Lincoln’s fast travel tower.

“Roghponanov!” I say. A ball of light surrounds me a spirits me across the landscape. The desert turns into a post-apocalyptic city, complete with mossy buildings and rows of abandoned cars. I land at the fast travel tower in the center of Roghponanov, one of the two biggest cities in the Eastern Biome.

This is where the hunt begins. Right now, it’s probable that ReaperGoon does not know I’m coming after him.

The best way to deal with a mook is to kill them from a distance. Any Freax user worth their salt has a sensing barrier around them at all times, and as such can’t be sniped or killed in a surprise shooting. I myself am always watching for that sort of thing.

As well as this, I have to keep my identity anonymous. If the organization that supports a terrorist knows who I am and what I’ve done, they’ll go to the ends of the Earth to kill me. So far, I’ve been able to do my job without revealing my identity.

I meander through the city until I find what I need—an information broker. This incarnation of the trade is a man dressed in a pinstripe suit sitting against a pile of crates next to a clothing shop. I know he’s an information broker because of the mark above him, etched into the wood. It’s a universal symbol that brokers use to distinguish themselves.

I approach the man.

The man tips his hat. “How can I help you?” he says.

I show the small badge I have sewn into the inside of my undershirt.

The man’s lips curl up. “Of course.” He takes a cigar out of his pocket, cuts, it, and lights it. “What do you want to know?”

I lean against the shop wall. “ReaperGoon,” I say.

The man chuckles. “Ah, yes. Lots of people want the Goon dead.” He rubs his hands. “Fifty gold.”

I transfer the money. The information broker grins, taking a puff of his cigar. “Well now,” he says. “I seem to remember hearing that ReaperGoon is in the business of running an illegal unicorn brawl. Somewhere here in Ropov. If you head to the right establishment the owner might point you towards your target.”

“Unicorn brawl,” is say, rolling the name on my tongue. “I know you information brokers charge for everything, but I have to ask. What’s illegal about it?”

“I’ll give you this one for five silver,” says the man.

I flip him his money.

“Unicorns are one of The Realm’s protected species,” says the man. “The game’s own police system protects them and hunts those who harm them.” He shrugs. “But I guess there are shady applications for everything and everybody.” He flicks the ashes off of his cigar. “Anything else?”

“No,” I say. I turn away. “Ashente.”

“Ashente,” says the information broker.

We part ways, and I walk to the most seedy eating establishment I can find within half a mile of the broker. I find the Hidden Bowl, a remarkably dangerous-looking pub that is surrounded by ruffians and villains.

I walk past the gang of petty thieves around the door, watching my pockets.

“Steal,” I hear someone whisper.

“Binder. Counterspell,” I say. A small flicker of light sparkles around my binder. I turn to face the thief who tried to steal from me.

“Blinding light,” I say. Two orbs of light appear in front of the thief’s eyes. I then deliver him an uppercut that’s sure to break his jaw and send most of his teeth flying.

The little white bits of bone clatter to the ground around me. The thief collapses.

A big, burly man who must be the leader of the gang steps up to me, his chest puffed out.

“What was that for, dead meat?” he says.

I knock his teeth out, too, with a hard right hook. I don’t have time to deal with petty criminals.

The rest of the thieves surround me. There are five still standing.

I sigh, and conjure my trusty bantanum sword.

“Unless you want to know what bantanum looks like with blood on it,” I say, “You’d better back off.”

Two of the thieves pick up their boss by the shoulders. The whole gang backs off. “We’ll remember this,” says one of the thieves, and then the group peels away. The thief I hit first regains consciousness, looks around frantically, and then scrambles to his feet, sprinting into the street and around the corner.

I sigh and turn to the door.

A man in a red vest is leaning against the wall. “You have a way with a fist,” he says. “Those butt-licking pickpockets have been lingering here for weeks.” He grins. “Not that anyone inside is any more moral.” He winks. “I assume you’re not here for the booze.” He points to himself. “The name’s Reggie.”

I frown, trying my best to evaluate the man. “RoundTable,” I say.

“Well, Mr. Roundtable,” says Reggie. “Let’s get down to business. You want to buy some FB-twelve, right?”

“I have no idea what that is,” I say, “And I don’t want any.”

Reggie scoffs. “Well then, why else would you be here?”

“I’m looking for the unicorn fight club,” I say.

Reggie raises an eyebrow. “The location of that place is common knowledge around here,” he says. “Did someone pull a prank on you?”

“I’d appreciate it if you could tell me where it is,” I say.

Reggie points to something behind me. I turn around.

“That building?” I say. It’s a building that looks much like all the others in this post-apocalyptic biome.

“Yeah,” says Reggie. “You’ll have a great time. I recommend betting on James the Rabbit. He’s been on a losing streak, but I feel like his time is coming.”

“Thanks,” I say. I flip him a gold.

Reggie grins, and winks. “Well, if you ever do need any FB-twelve, come stop by.”

I cross the street and approach the building’s door. It’s a large steel construction, with a small slit at eye level. I knock.

The slit opens and I can see two bloodshot eyes. “Who’re you?” the man says.

“I’m here to bet on James the Rabbit,” I say. “I hear he’s going to start winning soon.”

The man behind the door chuckles. “Well, I’m not going to stop you from doing that,” he says.

The door creaks open. I pass through, past the fat man guarding it, and into a crowded open space with a rodeo-style arena in its center. The place is packed, and bright searchlights flit back and forth. Two unicorns are romping around the rodeo arena, kicking up blood-stained dirt. The crowd undulates every time a unicorn scores a hit.

A scabby man shuffles up to me, his one good eye flitting up and down my person. “Who’re ya bettin’ on?” he says.

I shake my head. “I’m—” I reconsider. “I’ll bet ten gold on James the Rabbit.”

“Eh, heh,” says the man. “Everyone seems to think Mr. Rabbit will come out of this one ahead.” He turns away, waving his crabbed hand. “Good luck!” He cackles.

I sit down at an empty seat near the back of the bleachers and watch the battle unfold before me for a minute. Then I stand up and tap the shoulder of the man sitting in front of me. He’s not wearing a shirt, and his chest is covered in alcohol.

“Whaddya want?” he says, his eyes glazed over.

“Who runs this place?” I ask.

The man spits. “Why’d I ever tell you that?”

I flip him a gold.

The man’s eyes light up and he seems to be pulled from some other world. “Well, ya really want to know, dontcha?” he says. He points up. I follow his finger and see a suite, covered by bulletproof glass, and through the glass I see the man himself, ReaperGoon.

Target acquired.

I flip the stoned man another five silver and then climb the bleachers until I am directly underneath the booth.

“Binder,” I say. I take the Periscope card and activate it. It splits into two parts, and I toss the camera half into the air where it floats just at the bottom of the window to the club.

I watch ReaperGoon drink wine and eat a succulent roast pig like he’s at a royal banquet. I guess being one of Mandrake Signa’s underlings has its bonuses.

I take the Footlock card and attach it to a Delayed Activation card. I then slip into an employees-only door and climb up a set of maintenance stairs.

There are no guards. It looks like ReaperGoon is being lax with his protections.

I stand next to the door to the club room. Opening it slightly, I peek through the crack and observe. It’s the same as before. ReaperGoon at the west corner with a woman on both arms, two underlings sitting at a table playing cards, and a stripper doing a pole dance in the south corner. Classic “bad guy lair” vibes. My target is ReaperGoon. While I am cleared to kill anyone who tries to attack me, I want to make as small a mess as possible. The two underlings probably haven’t done anything to merit death, and if they have it’s not my job to mete out justice for that.

I activate the Bug Familiar card and let it buzz into the center of the room. At my command, the bug explodes into a thick cloud of smoke.

I burst into the room. As I pass the room’s center, ReaperGoon comes out of the smoke and aims a fist at my face.

I activate the Footlock effect. ReaperGoon’s feet lock to the floor, and he faceplants into the concrete. I pull out an apprehension module, attach the wires, and ReaperGoon turns into a ball of light that is then sucked into the module. The module beeps.

Target apprehended. Bagged and tagged. I retreat out of the room before the smoke clears, and two minutes later I am safely on the street.

I won’t need to go through the whole information broker thing to get to the rest of my targets—the government can interrogate ReaperGoon and get info out of him.

I walk to the fast travel pillar and take out my Traveler’s Pass.

“Fort Lincoln,” I say. I am carried away in a pillar of light.

Avarice: The Realm chapter two: Fort Lincoln

Fort Lincoln

I materialize in an open field that stretches out in every direction. To the north, a fiery landscape of volcanoes curbs the horizon. To the east, a deep, thick jungle encroaches on the grass. To the south, a desert. To the west, an abandoned, post-apocalyptic city.

The starting valley is adorned with four towers, one in each of the cardinal directions.

Garnet is leaning against one of the towers.

“Binder,” she says, holding out her hand. A binder appears in a puff of smoke, floating above her hand. She takes a card out of one of the card slots inside it, flipping it around in the sunlight. She tosses it to me, expertly.

“This is a black card,” she says. “Traveler’s pass. It allows you to use fast travel locations like these—” she knocks her knuckles against the pillar—“which can be pretty helpful to get around.” She crosses her arms.

A couple of players materialize behind me. Apparently they are a group, and as they pass us, they quiet down. Garnet waves.

“Those are probably cazzies,” she says.

“Cazzies?” I say.

“Casual players. Not affiliated with any major government or organization. We do business with them, but they’re pretty much on their own.”

The group of cazzies gets far enough away that their voices fade. Garnet surveys the landscape.

“The Gatewatch knows who I am,” she says, her eyes flickering. “They won’t bother us.”

“I see,” I say. “So, where is our base of operations?”

“Just a minute,” says Garnet. She pulls out a card identical to the one she tossed at me.

“Say ‘binder’ and your card binder will appear,” she says.

“Binder,” I say. A binder appears in front of me. It is empty and unadorned. There is a space that says “no name.”

“We can get you a username later,” says Garnet, as she flips the Traveler’s Pass between her fingers. She taps the obelisk. “Fort Lincoln,” she says. A pillar of light surrounds her, and she is gone.

I tap the obelisk while holding the pass. “Fort Lincoln,” I say. My body is surrounded by light again, and I feel weightless. The ground lifts away, and I watch as the world unravels beneath me. I pass two cities on my way to the middle of the desert area. Scattered around the landscape are towers that are identical to the one that transported me.

I land at a tower that looks slightly different than the others. It stands in the middle of a military base that is reminiscent of those in desert regions in the real world. This is obviously an American military installation. Marine “Freaks”—soldiers with Freax abilities—wander around the installation, working out, chatting, and doing their business. The government has obviously put a lot of resources into this game. Garnet is leaning against a canvas tent.

“So,” I say, pointing to the row of tanks and helicopters. “How did you get those in here?”

“This game is egregiously pay-to-win,” says Garnet, with a half smile. “And a government has a lot of money to spend.” She motions toward me. “Come. I need to outfit you.”

We walk towards the only concrete building in the whole base. Garnet keys us in and, after a blast of cooled air, we walk through the halls to a large, library-like room filled with shelves. Each shelf has thousands of cards stacked on it. I approach one and pick up a card that reads “small canteen.” It contains a picture of a standard military-issue canteen.

Garnet smiles at me. “Say ‘drop,’” she says.

“Drop,” I say. The card poofs, and a real canteen, just like the picture, appears in my hands.

Garnet nods. “Objects can be turned into cards for easy transport and storage.” She picks up a card that reads MRE, Chicken Quesadilla Menu, tossing it at me.

“Eat up. You’re hungry, right?” she says.

I catch the card. “Sort of,” I say. “Drop.”

A standard-issue MRE appears in my hands. I tear it open, and use the water from the canteen I just “dropped” to activate the meal heater.

“Normally you would eat in the mess,” says Garnet, as she walks among the racks. “But this is a good way to get you used to the game.” She takes a few cards from the rack. “As well as objects, there are also cards that contain spells. They are usually one-time-use and do anything except directly harm another player.”

The MRE is better than I remember from my own basic training. Perhaps the recipe has changed?

While I eat, I watch Garnet move through the racks, picking up cards from their places. She chooses about two dozen of them. Walking to a small game table in one corner of the room, she beckons me over.

I sit across from her.

Garnet spreads the cards across the table. “These cards can do many things,” she says, “But you’ll have to rely on your own Freax power to actually close the deal when it comes to your targets.” She takes one card and flips it. “For example. Lightning Cage.” She points to the card. “This card is a staple. It surrounds the target with a cage made out of electricity for about fifteen seconds. That could give you enough time to close in on them.”

I take the card. “And I can only use it once?” I say.

“Yes,” says Garnet. “Don’t worry about its cost. We’re an official branch of the military, with all the funding that entails.” She takes another card and flips it.

“Another example. Counterspell. This card can stop another card’s effects if used fast enough.” She passes it to me, along with about a dozen more cards. “Learn how all of these cards work. They’re all very common here in The Realm.”

I take the stack of cards and look at them individually. The artwork on the cards is quite well done. It reminds me of the card games I sometimes see kids playing in the streets or at the library.

I take out a card that looks interesting to me. Slow. Apparently it slows my target’s movement for a short amount of time.

“I have a question,” I say, placing all my cards neatly in a stack. “Are there monsters here?”

“Of course,” says Garnet. “This is a game, after all. What would it be without monsters?”

“Are they dangerous?” I say.

Garnet chuckles. “You can call them that. Someone of your caliber may not find the low-level mobs dangerous. But there are some beasts that not even a tank platoon with air support can take down.”

“Yikes,” I say. I look at a tank rolling past through a window. “If you have tanks here, how do the, um, cazzies handle the bigger monsters?”

Garnet laughs. “There are a lot of very powerful people playing this game. If you don’t know how to handle yourself, you will die.”

I flip a card around between my fingers. “And these cards work on monsters too.”

Garnet shrugs.

I put the card down. “Looks like I signed on for something strange,” I say. I stand up. “Should I be wearing some sort of armor? I saw those cazzies wearing what looked like reproduction equipment from the middle ages.”

“Yeah,” says Garnet, “All the armor and weapons that appear naturally in this game are based around medieval armor from around the world. Most have some sort of magic ability. You’d be surprised how little a gun can do against a ‘plus-six’ set of anjab armor.”

“Anjab …” I say. I shake my head. “I would prefer a bulletproof vest, if that’s not a problem.”

“Eventually you may find something you like,” says Garnet, as she stands up. “We can get you fitted now if you’re ready.”

“Do you have any of this … ‘plus six anjab” armor?” I say.

“One set,” says Garnet. “But it’s being used. The real-world value of a full set is about one hundred million dollars.”

“A hundred …” I say. I whistle. “And objects here have real world value.”

“With anjab, it’s not the value that keeps us from acquiring some. It’s the rarity. There’s just not may people willing to sell their anjab sets. Or their ‘plumage,’ ‘rastafa,’ or ‘taliax’ sets.”

“Those names make no sense,” I say.

“It’s a game,” says Garnet. “Get used to it.” She walks to a series of shelves containing cards that are arranged facing outwards. Each set of armor represented by the cards is in its own little nook. I browse the sets. There are samurai sets, knight sets, Arabic sets, and Viking sets. Every culture in the medieval world is represented. On a whim, I pick up the chest plate of some red samurai armor.

“Ah, you’ve picked a good one,” says Garnet, looking over my shoulder. “Cherry Tree Plus Two. This particular one is a legendary set with ‘angel slayer’ and ‘worm chaser’ buffs.”

“Explain that,” I say.

“This armor has been worn by players who have defeated the ‘Bloody Archangel’ and ‘Driving Worm’ dungeon bosses,” says Garnet. “Thus, it gets some bonuses.”

I flip the card in my hand. “Interesting,” I say. “Drop.”

A large set of armor appears on my person. Everything is in place, even the straps, which look to be tied with a special kind of oriental knot.

“Here’s a mirror if you need it,” says Garnet, wheeling a large stand-up mirror from a nook.

I look at myself. Not bad. Maybe I could reconsider the simple bulletproof vest. I certainly look like someone from a period drama. I pick up the rest of the suit’s cards and ‘drop’ them onto my person.

I can deal with this. The armor is surprisingly light and easy to move in. I turn to the right and left, reaching behind myself.

“I think we’ve just decided your class as well,” says Garnet. “Kenshi.”

“Swordsman?” I say.

“No, Kenshi,” says Garnet. “There’s a difference. Kenshi fight without shields. Thus, most of your level-up points will go into straight sword skills.”

“Can’t I just use a gun?” I ask.

“You’d be surprised at how many ways there are to make a gun obsolete,” says Garnet. “Even a one hundred and twenty millimeter cannon can’t be guaranteed to kill a high level player with a direct hit.”

“That’s some powerful Freax,” I say.

“Not exactly,” says Garnet. “The power is based on Freax, but it doesn’t manifest like Freax outside the game world. Players have the Freax powers they bring with them, and they also have the game abilities that they earn inside The Realm.” Garnet holds up her hand. “Status,” she says. A semi-transparent sheet appears in front of her, covered in symbols.

“Since you haven’t played many video games recently,” she says, as she manipulates the sheet, “We’ll have to teach you how status screens work from scratch.”

“I think I know how they work,” I say.

“Do you?” says Garnet. She flicks her finger and the clear screen goes away. “Try spending your two level one skill points.”

“Status,” I say. The screen appears in front of me. I flick my finger around to move it. I see a little button that says skills. I press it. A skill sheet appears in front of me.

“You won’t be able to choose your class until level five,” says Garnet, “But for now you can give yourself a name. Careful, though, as names can only be changed with name stones, and those are expensive.”

Enter name:  “Andrew Dayne.”

Garnet scoffs. “Try not to use your real name. That way, you won’t be retaliated against in the real world.”

Enter name: “ProfessionalKiller.”

That name is already taken.

I frown.

“Try not to be too obvious, either,” says Garnet. “And remember that this game has millions of unique players.”

Enter name: “RoundTable.”

Name accepted. Hello, ROUNDTABLE.

Garnet shrugs. “Good enough. I’ll call you RT from here on out.” She holds up her finger. “Display.” A name floats above her head.

CRYSTALGOBLET.

“So I’ll call you Crystal,” I say.

Garnet winks. “Glad you get it.” She looks at my reflection in the mirror. “I think we’re good with your equipment. Binder.” Her binder appears. “Equip: set two.” Leather armor appears on her body in a flash of light. A bow and a quiver full of arrows rests on her back. She taps the quiver. “I’m a thief class. We probably won’t be working together much, but sometimes we might.” She tilts her head. “And that’s all I’m going to have to tell you.”

A higher officer approaches us from the entryway. I salute.

“Sir,” I say.

The officer returns my salute. “Andrew Dayne,” he says. “You’re needed for the briefing for your first mission.”

“Already, sir?” I say.

The officer shrugs. “I don’t call the shots. If it were me, I’d give you some time to get used to this hell hole of a game.” He does a sharp about-face. “Follow me. The HQ building is this way.”

I follow him through series of halls until we reach a briefing room. It’s a little warmer in here, and a projector is displaying something on the far wall. Maybe something left over from the last briefing.

“I heard you’re one of the top Freax agents,” says the officer, as he gets to the podium with the computers. “We follow what we call ‘Video Game’ procedure here. That means our agents get a lot more freedom to do things their way than would be the norm in the real world.” He extends his hand. “My name is Pierre.”

“Andrew,” I say, shaking his hand.

Pierre clicks a few times on his computer and a new power point slide appears on the wall. It’s a picture, appearing to have been taken in The Realm.

“This is your first target,” says Pierre. “He’s a tough one. We’ve sent three agents in after him, and he’s killed all of them.”

I tap my fingers on the table. “So that’s why I was brought here all of a sudden,” I say.

“Mostly, yes,” says Pierre. “You’re the best at what you do. We won’t tell you how to do your job. You just need to kill him.”

“Question,” I say. “Can’t we just kill him with a remote strike?”

“No,” says Pierre. “His magic is too strong. He’s a level ninety in game and has many layers of protection.”

“And you’re sending me,” I say, “A level one, to fight him?”

“They said you were the best,” says Pierre. “I don’t doubt it will take you more than a couple of weeks to reach level fifty.”

“So I won’t be going after him until I reach a comparable level.”

“Right,” says Pierre. “We’re not sending you on a suicide mission.”

“I get it,” I say. “I just need to grind levels until I can compare to his power.”

“Exactly,” says Pierre. “He is an electromancer. He can generate large amounts of electric energy and produce entire thunderstorms. Electric devices don’t work near him if he doesn’t want them to. He’s a mage class, which bolsters his natural Freax ability as well.”

I nod. “Okay. I’m used to dealing with people with powerful abilities. Electromancers aren’t my specialty, but I can handle them.” I conjure a small chip of metal and flip it between my fingers—it’s something I do when I’m thinking.

“What kind of metal is that?” asks Pierre.

I hold the chip out in my hand. “I’m not sure. It’s the most comfortable blend of stuff I can produce. I do it to fidget.”

“Let me see it,” says Pierre.

I hand it to him.

“So you’re a metalmancer,” Pierre says.

“Not exactly,” I say. “I’m a transition metal conjurer.”

“Transition metals,” says Pierre. “Like, the middle of the periodic table?”

“Plus lanthanides and actinides,” I say.

“You can conjure uranium,” says Pierre.

“I can,” I say. “It makes me very hungry though.”

“I see,” says Pierre. “How is someone with your valuable powers in a role this dangerous?”

“I enjoy my job,” I say.

Pierre purses his lips. “You’re the assassin type.”

I shrug.

Pierre turns to the screen. “Well. You’re going to be power leveling with Garnet for the next two weeks to prepare you for this job. I see you are already wearing your equipment.”

“It’s pretty comfortable, actually,” I say. I tap the surface of my breastplate.

“Great. Glad that you like it.” Pierre pauses. “That particular set is quite valuable.”

“Is it?” I say, lifting up one of the fabric corners.

“Several thousand gold, at least,” says Pierre.

“Gold?” I say.

“The current exchange rate is about ten dollars to one gold,” says Pierre. He turns to the projector. “Anyways. You’ll be training in the dungeon complex closest to Fort Lincoln. It’s a mid-range dungeon that should have enough monsters of middling level to get you to fifty in two weeks.” He clicks the projector off. “Garnet will handle you from here.”

Garnet enters the room and leans against the wall. “Ready?” she says.

“Ready,” I say.

The Lesser One Arc 1: Last Chapter: Ghost

Ghost

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

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

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

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

I open the first.

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

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

Well then. They said there would be a party.

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

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

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

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

I think they’re showing promise!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Raputin Drommel,” he says.

I shake his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I am left wondering what will happen next.

TLO: Chapter 26: Passion

Passion

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

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

It’s Rarden.

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

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

“I’m glad I made it,” he says.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Shinigami growls. “We made a contract.”

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

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

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

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

A soldier leans out of the helicopter.

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

I climb on board the helicopter. Rarden follows.

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

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

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

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

“Land us near the portal!” yells Rarden.

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

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

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

Every single monster stops.

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

The whole world is silent.

Then, the portal monsters turn to me.

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

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

I nod. “Return.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” I say, looking at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess this is it, huh?” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nod. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crayton shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

I nod. “Okay,” I say.

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

Then the helicopter’s blades drown out all conversation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean, this whole floor?” I ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I ask Jirgrar the question.

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

“So Alice braved that,” I say.

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

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

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

“So Alice may not recover,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jirgrar bows. “As you wish,” he says.

And I fall into a much deeper sleep.