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

Dungeons Again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you’re saying we know nothing.”

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

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

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

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

My phone rings. I pick it up.

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

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

Rezolan remains sitting as Sebastian stands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crowd is silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“DPS!” yells Carl. “Full output!”

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

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

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

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

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

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 9: Armani

Armani

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

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

“Of course,” says Sebastian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know your name yet,” I say.

“I have no name,” says the beast.

“Can I call you Mammoth?” I ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I walk over and sit next to him.

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

“Um, where do I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I appreciate it,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, what kind of a vacuum is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He did strike me as smart,” I say.

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

“Um, okay?” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 8:

Conference

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was their goal?” asks the reporter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am getting déjà vu vibes from this encounter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It looks like the memetic hazard still affects him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hear a voice in my head.

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

Sebastian tilts his head. “Hear what?”

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

“Of course,” says Sebastian.

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

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

I approach them. “Hello?” I say.

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

Markus, she says. I’m sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 7: Aftemath

Aftermath

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We drive away from the Esmex building.

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

“That about sums it up,” I say.

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

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

One more thing to think about.

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

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

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

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

“Sit,” says Carl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a puzzle dungeon,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” I say. “Do we have a ride?”

“Of course,” says Sebastian.

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

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

Mandrake and Ari are waiting for us.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not going to stop me?” I say.

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

“What does he want to build?” I ask.

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

“Um, no,” I say.

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

“Um,” I say. “Aliens. They exist?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what he wants it for?” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mandrake chuckles. “You got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“But spirit magic is okay?” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do,” I say.

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

“Thanks for the warning,” I say.

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 6: Deal

Deal

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian contacts me again.

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

Me: I can’t fight them?

Sebastian: It would be unadvisable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whoa,” I say. “You’re good at this.”

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

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

All the doors in the hall disappear at once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ronald, right?” I say.

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

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

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

I cross my arms. “I don’t trust you.”

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

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

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

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

“What do you need me to make?” I ask.

“Two grams of antimatter,” says Biren.

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

“A secret,” says Biren.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sebastian contacts me through my mental link.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” I say.

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

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

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

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

“He was killed by a wraith,” I say.

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

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

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

“I am,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 5: Aether Sea

Aether Sea

Orion and I walk through the hallway, heading towards the general direction of the scream from before. We are careful not to open any doors, only following the layout of the floor plan. The place is like a maze, and much larger than the actual Esmex building.

I feel a dark presence behind me. Before I can turn around, it disappears. When I come around the next corner, I see blood first, and then Blaire Gumshoe, one of the conjurers, with a wound on her chest. She is holding it with her hand, breathing heavily. When she notices me, she tries her best to smile.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I couldn’t do it in the end.”

I kneel down beside her. “We’ll get you out of here. Can you stand?”

Blaire tries her best to get up but collapses to the floor before she can gain her balance. We try a second time, with her leaning on my shoulder.

“I’m just dead weight,” says Blaire. “Leave me.”

“I won’t let you get eaten by the wraith,” I say.

Blaire coughs, and cringes. “Is that what you call the thing that attacked me?” she says.

“I think so,” I say. “They follow you, and the moment you let your guard down they strike.” I check behind myself in a moment of unease. There is nothing there.

We have to keep moving. If we stay in one place for too long, the wraith may strike.

I decide that it’s the best time to enter another room and gather another clue. I take the first clue, the one from the doll room, out of my pocket. All that’s on it are two colored rectangles, one blue and one orange, each with a number inside. I fold it back up and place it in my pocket.

We push through the nearest door. This time, the room is filled with bottles and glassware. The doors close behind us and the rods descend. A timer with seven minutes on the clock lowers from the ceiling.

I don’t even know how to start looking for the answer to this puzzle. Will I have to synthesize some sort of chemical?

I take a bottle and examine it. For all intents and purposes, it is the regular kind of bottle you would find in a high school classroom.

At the bottle’s bottom is a small symbol. I turn it around, trying to see if I can make heads or tails of it.

“Look at this,” says Orion, holding two bottles together. He shows the arrangement to me.

The symbols have coalesced into a letter and a number: A3.

Blaire points to a bench in the corner. There’s a strange machine that reminds me of a mass spectrometer. I walk over to it and see a keyboard attached to it. I press two keys—and then a shock goes through me. I jerk my hand back. A green mist begins to fill the room.

“Hastiness makes a corpse,” says the voice on the intercom. “As does cyanide.”

I grab a cloth and put it over my mouth. “This is bad,” I say. “We need to find the code before we die from poison gas.”

Orion holds two more bottles together. “The second letter is F!” he says.

Blaire holds together to test tubes. “I think the fifth is G!” Somehow, she is managing even with her wound.

Something, F, A, something, G. We need to find the rest of the letters. But the more we try to match bottles, the harder it gets.

The clock ticks town. Soon, there is one minute left, and I can barely breathe.

“I have the code!” says Orion. “B,F,A,K,G,P!”

I type it into the console and the iron bars in front of the doors rescind. Orion bursts through, and I follow a second later, dragging Blaire.

Blaire opens her fist to reveal the second paper clue. The door slams shut behind us, disappearing into the wall.

We’re back into the hallway with the wraith. I look both ways, and then point in a random direction. “We’ll go that way,” I say.

“As good as any,” says Orion.

“I think each door opens into a sub instance of this dungeon,” I say, as the three of us go down the hallway. “And each sub instance will give us a clue of some sort.”

“Why would someone who wants to kill us go through this much trouble?” says Blaire. She coughs, still holding the wound on her side.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Only that the perpetrator is probably—” I pause. I don’t think I should mention the Silverbones to them. “Probably someone who wants the Rearden Metal formula.”

“You look like you know more,” says Orion.

“It would be dangerous to tell you,” I say.

Orion frowns. “I’ll trust you, then,” he says.

We turn a corner and find another conjurer curled up in a ball against the wall. When she notices us, she looks up.

It’s the conjurer April Seek. She looks up at us. “They took him,” she says.

“Who?” I say.

“Lincoln,” says April. “They took him. Black hands grabbed him and pulled him into a doorway.”

“Have you been attacked by the wraith yet?” says Orion, as he helps April to her feet.

April shivers. “I don’t know. I do feel like something is following me.”

“That’s the wraith, then,” I say. “We have to keep moving, or else it will attack. It’s an A-class monster.”

I get a signal from Sebstian.

Sebastian: We finally got through, master.

Me: What’s the status of the outside world?

Sebastian: Nothing is amiss. Just the fact that the entire Esmex building just disappeared into thin air.

Me: Can you find a way to me?

Sebastian: We have hundreds of our smartest operatives on the case. Sadly, we cannot seem to do more than get your general location in the aether sea.

Me: Do you know of a Dark Silverbones with this kind of power?

Sebastian: Perhaps. We do not know the powers of most of the members of that group, though.

Me: Keep trying to find a way.

Sebastian: You should be able to call up the devils who stayed in your personal dimension during the transfer to the aether sea.

I check my personal dimension, which I have been too preoccupied to remember. There are fifteen devils and at least a dozen monsters from the S-class portal, including the aircraft carrier sized mammoth.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with the mammoth, but the rest of the minions should be able to help me clear this instant dungeon.

I summon every minion who I think could help us out.

About twenty monsters of varying taxonomy appear out of a cloud of dust.

Orion, April, and Blaire are about as shocked as I would have expected them to be. Blaire faints, and one of my devils catches her.

“I can heal her, master,” he says.

“Do it,” I say. “And try and bring the rest of these people to a safe location.” I turn to the rest of the minions. “Find everyone. Dispatch as many monsters as you can, but make sure that my lab assistants are safe, as well as anyone else who has been trapped in this instant dungeon.”

Orion shakes his head. “I’m going with you,” he says. “You’re going to need more than one head to solve all these puzzles.”

I think for a moment. “Okay,” I say. “As long as you’re willing to accept the risk.”

“If you are, I am,” says Orion. He pauses. “Also, where did these, um, people come from?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It’s best if you don’t know.”

Orion shrugs. “No weirder than what’s currently happening, I suppose.” He looks at one of my devils with a curious gaze. “Are you a demon?” he asks.

“I’m no demon,” says the devil. “I’m a proud devil.”

I turn to Orion. “Demons and devils have had a long and complicated relationship,” I say.

The devil bows, and the group splits up. I, Orion, and two other devils are standing in an empty hallway.

“I trust my comrades,” I say. “They’ll make sure that everyone gets out safe.” I turn to the two devils who stayed with us. “I’d like to know your names,” I say.

“Rezolan,” says a bulky-looking devil with a big neck.

“Sangror,” says the second devil. She’s a rather skinny devil with long white hair and fangs. “I am a summoner, while Rezolan is a knight.” She holds out her hand and a wolf appears from between two layers of shining air. “This is Ropo,” she says.

Ropo scratches his ear with his paw.

Orion looks between the two devils. “I think we can make it with you on our side.”

I turn to the nearest door. “We should continue collecting clues,” I say. I push through the door.

The four of us, plus a wolf, enter the room. It is pitch black.

A single spotlight snaps on, illuminating a mechanical clown. The clown tilts its shining head. “Ah, a guest,” it says. “What did the chicken say to the elephant?”

“I don’t know,” says Orion.

“Why are you bigger than me!” says the clown. It then cackles with laughter.

None of us laugh. The clown’s eyes go red. “Laugh,” it says. Its voice deepens, and becomes distorted. “Laugh,” it says.

Spikes appear on the walls and begin closing in.

“Laugh,” says the clown, with a deep, metallic voice.

Rezolan leaps onto the stage and rips the clown’s head off with his bare hands. Sparks fly from the exposed neck.

Sangror throws a force field towards the approaching spikes.

Two more spotlights turn on to reveal a freakish monster of an animatronic mouse and a gigantic metal purple blob with a guitar. They begin to strum their instruments.

“Laugh!” say the animatronic monsters. “Laugh!”

Orion runs to a panel in the wall and opens it. He flips a switch, and then everything stops. The room is pitch black again.

“What did you do?” I say.

“I recognized this room as a maintenance closet,” says Orion. “Those always have fuse boxes.”

A feeling of dread fills my bones. I see a shadow, darker than the other shadows, flit past me.

Orion screams, and I can hear clothes tearing.

“Where are you?” I say, as I ram into a black wall. My nose must be broken, and blood begins to trickle out.

“Help!” says Orion.

A blazingly bright ball of light appears, and it illuminates the whole room. Sangror is holding the ball in her palm.

Orion is laying on the ground, dead, blood pooling underneath him.

“The wraith,” I say. “It’s still here.”

“Wraiths enjoy darkness more than anything,” says Rezolan. He kneels beside Orion’s body. “This one is especially strong.”

I look at the stage where the animatronics are. On the ground, beneath the now headless clown, there is a piece of paper. The third clue.

I take out the other two clues and try and match them together. But, it still makes no sense. I shove them all in my pocket and kneel beside Orion.

“I didn’t know you for long,” I say, “But I know you were a brave and good guy.” I close his open eyes and straighten his posture. I turn to Sangror. “What should I do with the body?”

Sangror sighs. “I can store it in my personal dimension until we can give him a proper burial,” she says. She holds her hand over the corpse and it is sucked into a hole in her palm. She is wearing an expression that makes it clear she finds the process distasteful.

I stand back up. “We have no time to mourn,” I say. “We need to find a way out, end this instant dungeon, and fight whoever created it.”

“We’re with you,” says Sangror.

I turn to the door. “Then let’s get going.”

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 4: Maze

Maze

The conference room is chilled by air conditioning, a slow, steady hum that rises behind the birdsong outside. I take a seat in a plush chair that looks like it dates from the nineteenth century.

Ari, Neo, Robin, and Mandrake take seats around a round table.

No one says anything for a good minute. Then Ari waves her hand like a fan and leans forward.

“Markus’s problem needs to be solved first,” she says.

“Agreed,” says Robin. “We need to find a way to save his parents from the wrath of the Darks.”

The table is silent for a while longer. Then Mandrake speaks up.

“Are negotiations on the table?” he asks.

Robin shakes her head. “You know them,” she says. “They would never stoop to negotiating with their enemies.”

“And we shouldn’t either,” says Neo. “Those monsters do not deserve the kindliness of a negotiation that does not include fists.”

I look between the members of the Brights. “I really appreciate you trying to help me,” I say, “But if my network can’t find anything, then …”

Ari puts her fist into her palm. “That’s right!” she says. “You are the master of the contents of an entire S-class portal.” She pauses. “What did you do with them?”

“I just, kind of, stored them in my personal dimension,” I say. “I don’t really know what to do with a gigantic, aircraft carrier sized mammoth.”

“The devils serving you are smart,” says Ari. “So should the monsters you gained control over by using the bone sword. Ask them for help.”

I close my eyes. Come out.

Jirgrar appears in a puff of smoke. He bows. “Master?” he says. “Do you need something?”

“The Darks threatened to kill my parents if I don’t join them,” I say. “Do you think, with the minions from the S-class portal, that you would be able to protect them?”

“From the Dark Silverbones?” says Jirgrar. “Perhaps. We cannot promise anything. The Darks are very, very powerful.” He surveys the Brights. “I see you have already chosen a side?” he says. “I would have advised you against such a rash decision.”

“Thanks,” I say, to Jirgrar. “But I’ve made my choice.”

Ari continues to fan herself. “Ah, is this a tame B-class monster?”

“I think Jirgrar is A-class now,” I say.

Jirgrar bows to the Brights. “Thank you for taking care of my master.”

Ari chuckles. “No, no, thank you for keeping this young man safe.”

Jirgrar turns to me. “We shall do our best to keep your kin alive,” he says. “I must ask that you allow us as much freedom as possible in this endeavor.”

“This time, you can do anything except kill innocent people,” I say.

Jirgrar bows, and then disappears into smoke.

“Are you sure that was the correct way to phrase that?” says Mandrake.

I nod. “My parents are important to me,” I say. “If I lost them because I was too chicken to allow my minions to do bad things, then I would hate myself for the rest of my life.”

“Bad things?” says Robin, leaning back in her chair.

“I don’t exactly know what they’re getting up to,” I say, “But I imagine it involves at least a few shady practices that would get a normal person in trouble.”

Neo picks his nose and flicks the booger away. “As much as we want to tell you that was a bad idea,” he says, “It’s probably what I would have done.”

“Thanks,” I say.

Robin, during the conversation, flicks lighter-sized flames in between her fingers on and off in a manner that appears habitual. She seems to be paying attention, of course, but the habit is a bit distracting.

Mandrake rests his chin on his hands. “You have a job to return to, right?” he says.

I look at my phone to check the time. “Oh, this is bad,” I say. “I’m supposed to be at the lab in fifteen minutes.” I stand up. “Sorry.” I text Jirgrar.

I need to get to the lab!

Jirgrar: The ride is already at the manor.

I leave the conference room, wave at the Brights, and run to the manor’s entrance. Sebastian is waiting right outside the doorway. He bows, and leads me through the garden to the limousine. I step in and we rocket off.

We arrive at the Esmex building just in time. I am already wearing my work clothes and rush to the elevator. I ride it to the floor with my lab, and then burst into the room.

The twelve conjurers are already there, sitting and socializing.

“Mr. Red,” says Archey. “What are we doing today?”

“More practice,” I say, as I grab my lab coat. “We’re going to try until we get it.” I put the coat on.

We spend the rest of the work period trying to teach the conjurers how to create type 1 Rearden Metal. One of the conjurers, named Orion, almost manages to create a perfect replica. I can see him achieving it in the next couple of days.

As I step out of the lab, I notice something wrong. There are no sounds of people in the hallways. I look both ways down the corridor and the world is eerily quiet.

I walk to the end of the hallway and notice that the window is white like frost, and I cannot see through it. I touch it, and it is warm, not cold.

Orion walks up behind me. “Boss?” he says.

I turn to him. “I don’t know what’s going on,” I say.

The walls shift, wallpaper moving up and down, feeding into the floor and ceiling. A door appears right beside me.

“This isn’t good,” I say.

Another conjurer, named Edgar, approaches us. “Um,” he says. “Something is wrong with the elevator.”

I turn to face him, but before I can speak, a booming voice comes over the intercom.

“Markus Red,” says the voice. “It’s time for us to play a game.”

“Are you with the Darks?” I say, turning around and around.

“I cannot answer that,” says the voice. Its tone is heavy with some sort of sadness. “All I can say is that it’s your turn to experience true despair.”

I sense someone looking at me from behind. Dread fills me. I turn around, and the feeling disappears, leaving only a black feeling floating in the middle of the hallway.

I notice that Orion and Edgar are gone. I turn around again, and then I realize that I am not in the same place. The hallway stretches infinitely in either direction, with periodic doors placed along the walls. I rush over to one of the doors and open it. It is lined with fish tanks containing tropical fish. I am pushed inside by a gust of wind and the door closes behind me.

I try to reopen it. It is locked, and it recedes into the wall and disappears. Another two doors appear on either side of the room.

“Red fish, blue fish,” says the intercom voice. “One fish, two fish.”

“What do you want?” I say, turning around. “Did you somehow put me in a dungeon?”

“Not just any dungeon,” says the voice. “My dungeon.”

I get the feeling that I am being watched again.

“Run, run, as fast as you can,” says the voice.

I open the right door and enter another hallway, finding myself face to face with Orion. He appears to be panicking.

“No, I don’t like dungeons!” he says, covering his face with his hands. He jumps in surprise. “Boss,” he says. “How—how did you get here?”

“Did you see the fish tanks?” I say.

“No, I saw meat. Hanging slabs of meat,” says Orion. “We’re in a dungeon, aren’t we?”

“I’ve heard of these before,” I say. “This must be an instant dungeon. The man who we heard on the intercom must have called it up.”

“There are monsters, right?” says Orion. “I’m not a fighting spirit. I don’t want to die.”

I cross my arms. “You’re not going to die,” I say. “I’m going to make sure of that. Just don’t get separated from me again.”

Orion bobs his head up and down. “As expected of an S-class adventurer.” He appears to be a bit more relaxed now.

I feel that I am being watched again. I turn around in one motion. A shadow dissipates into the atmosphere, and I catch the scent of roses.

“Someone is following us,” I say. I turn again. I think I may have learned about this one in Monster Taxonomy. A wraith.

That doesn’t make it any less scary, though. A sense of dread percolates through my body. Wraiths are A-class monsters that stalk people through dungeons and strike when their guard is down.

A piece of paper appears on a door frame. I walk up to it and take it off. It reads: Collect all the clues before Jerry catches you.

I crumple the note up. They’re playing with us. I turn to Orion. “We’re going to have to find the others,” I say.

A scream, from a woman, echoes through the hallways.

“We might already be too late,” I say. I grab Orion’s hand and we both sprint towards the source of the sound.

The hallways twist as we run and before we can get our bearings we’re back to where we started.

There are four doors, set at intervals in the walls. I open one at random and run into the room.

The interior of the room is filled with dolls. Their smiles stare with the same intensity as their dead, glass eyes. A low cackle rises from the shelves.

“Mary had a little doll, little doll …”

I conjure a blade. The dolls, strangely enough, do not attack, instead continuing to sing nursery rhymes in minor key.

Orion enters the room, craning his neck to look at the dolls.

“I don’t think they’re dangerous,” I say. I pick one up, and it chatters its teeth as its eyes roll around in their sockets. “I don’t see their purpose, though.”

The doors lock, and iron bars descend in front of them. I sprint towards the door before the bars close off our only exit, but I do not make it in time. The bars slam into the concrete.

“You have five minutes to find the clue,” says the voice, over the intercom. “Five … Minutes …”

A timer descends from the ceiling and displays a countdown.

“A clue,” I say. “There’s a clue in here somewhere.”

“Baa baa black sheep, have you any porcelain …” sing the dolls.

“I think the nursery rhymes are trying to tell us something,” says Orion.

“Look for the character in the rhyme they’re singing!” I say.

I find a black sheep doll and tear it off the shelf. There’s a little button on its back, made of magic. I press it and one of the iron bars lift.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little eyeball …” sing the dolls.

I find the doll with a star on its forehead and press the same button. Another bar rises.

The first bar slides down, and the bar on the far right rises.

“We’re going to have to coordinate the button presses,” I say. I press the sheep doll’s button again and the same rod comes down, and two others rise up.

“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the porcelain stream …” sing the dolls.

I take the doll inside the boat, and press the button. Two rods go up and one goes down.

“Now I know my ABCs …” sing the dolls.

I think that means we have them all. I close my eyes and concentrate.

If this one goes up, these go down. If that one goes down, these go up.

One minute left on the timer. I press the black sheep button, and three rods go up. There’s only one rod left.

I press the rowboat doll and the last rod rises. The door clicks, and opens. A small piece of paper floats down from the doorframe.

I grab it, and then Orion and I sprint out into the next hallway.

“That was the creepiest thing I’ve ever been through,” he says. “The eyes, man. The eyes.”

I shake my head. “I have a feeling that we’re only getting started.”