《Arcane Exfil》


 Chapter 1: Exfil

    Alexandria, Kingdom of Celdorne


    Good news or bad news? King Armonde Celdor had weighed such matters more times than he could reckon, yet at some point during his long reign, their import had withered. For truly, had there ever been a choice? Always a bitter draught, with scarce a drop of sweetness to ease its way down a regent¡¯s throat.


    Armonde kept his gaze out over his kingdom, his reflection faintly visible on the window. There was little left to stir his spirit. The world had long since lost its color, as had the hope that his reign might be marked by aught but hardship. His Prime Minister stood behind him, though Armonde scarcely took note. With a final glance at the overcast heavens, he steeled himself to choose.


    ¡°The bad first. Get it over with, Alrick.¡±


    Alrick sighed, new lines forming on his already weathered face. ¡°Sire, the Aurelian Empire... refuses our call for aid.¡±


    Of course they did. They had no reason to lift a finger for Celdorne ¨C no reason that wouldn¡¯t serve their precious borderlands. He had expected as much, but hearing it aloud still left a taste as bitter as Marneleaf.


    ¡°And the others?¡±


    Alrick¡¯s next words came out barely above a whisper, though still deafening upon impact. ¡°The Khagarian Empire simply ignored our envoy, and the Elnoir Republic...¡± he paused, clearly wrestling with decorum.


    Armonde sighed. ¡°What did they say?¡±


    ¡°That the matter of our ¡®localized skirmish¡¯ hardly merited the disturbance of their resources. They claim it is a threat we can manage.¡±


    What could Armonde do but laugh? A localized skirmish? As if the forces of hell itself could be dismissed as a border dispute. And ¡®Manage!¡¯ What did they know of such matters? Their vast resources, their summoned champions who held the strength of entire armies in one hand ¨C they could afford such carelessness.


    But Celdorne? No, they were the first line, and they would bear the brunt of it alone.


    ¡°They languish in comfort while the storm gathers on our doorstep.¡± How many would die for the arrogance ¨C the complacency ¨C of these distant superpowers? The thought seethed within Armonde.


    The king drew a slow breath, willing his frustration into something more manageable. Losing his composure now would serve no purpose, save to prove that the burden was already too great. There, he had his draught. Now, would the honey be sweet enough to erase the bitter taste? ¡°Well then. What good news have you to offer?¡±


    His trusted minister swallowed, lips tight as he stepped forward. ¡°Sir Fotham¡¯s Office reports that they¡¯ve located suitable heroes for us to summon, though we can afford only one ritual.¡±


    Summoning magic ¨C their final refuge. But what meager candidates might they have summoned forth, given Celdorne¡¯s barren coffers? Had they but the wealth of Aurelia or Khagaria! Oh, such fancies would serve him naught. Armonde held his peace, bidding Alrick to continue.


    ¡°They hold power, though not what the great empires would call heroes,¡± Alrick began, treading carefully. ¡°One is... a ¡®high schooler.¡¯ From the nation of Japan, as summons so oft deliver. But the others ¨C a group of soldiers, well-trained. An elite force of ¡®delta¡¯, from a land called the United States. It, too, is a nation upon Earth, yet we know but scant of it.¡±


    Armonde rested his arms on his knees, leaning forward. ¡°A child, and soldiers. Who else?¡±


    Alrick¡¯s hesitation was slight, but noticeable. ¡°A scholar and a farmer, though neither are suited for the struggle we face.¡± He paused, drawing a breath. ¡°The child, however... the high schooler ¨C he possesses a skill. A power to manipulate time. Not in some grand, world-altering manner, but sufficient to slow or hasten moments as need dictates. We would need to train him, certainly. We can¡¯t gauge its limits, but the potential remains present.¡± ?


    The king leaned back, shaking his head. ¡°Time... That is dangerous, Alrick. More perilous than the boy can comprehend. And... soldiers? Not knights?¡±


    The minister¡¯s hesitation was no longer present, words coming fluidly out of his mouth. ¡°They are skilled warriors, sire, knights of their own realm sans noble birth. Though they lack the natural magical prowess we oft ascribe to the summons of legend, their mana reserves are remarkable ¨C far surpassing that of most within Celdorne. Our scrying has determined that their skills in combat are commendable. They may not shatter mountains, but their mastery of tactics and familiarity with firearms is formidable. Paired with magic, it just may render them into the aid we need.¡±


    Armonde took a breath. ¡°A child who may bend time, though ignorant of its scope. And soldiers ¨C capable, yet unremarkable compared to the legends of Tenria. The soldiers have no extraordinary gifts... No divine intervention...¡±


    Common soldiers and a mere child. Armonde felt the weight of it settle upon him, doubts clouding the clarity he so often forced upon himself. It was preferable to naught, but what hope could such beings offer in the face of a demonic tide?


    And yet ¨C he had seen desperate men achieve the impossible before. Even under Alexander Celdor¡¯s legendary command, it had been ordinary men who held the line, bleeding for a kingdom yet unbuilt, dying for a humanity yet unsaved. Perhaps that was the true nature of Celdorne: not heroes, but those who stood against the dark, armed with nothing but faith and steel, knowing they were all that held the world back from oblivion.


    ¡°Soldiers,¡± he repeated softly. He felt his decisions shifting like the sands of the demon-infested Istrayn wastelands, solidifying the more he pondered. ¡°Not heroes, but still, men of war.¡±


    Alrick nodded, as if they¡¯d already earned his approval. ¡°Indeed, sire. To summon four heroes with but one ritual ¨C it is the most prudent of our options. They may not be legends, but in this great struggle, perhaps these men are precisely who we need.¡±


    Truly, there was no grandeur in this ¨C no tales of gods and legends. Yet he understood: tales mattered little when the time for blood came.


    ¡°Very well. Soldiers, then,¡± Armonde said at last. ¡°When will they be summoned?¡±


    ¡°Ere afternoon on the morrow, sire. We shall have them then.¡±


    Khaldat, Al-Jadira


    October 7, 2025


    Accurate intel was the cornerstone of every operation, but it never made the truth any easier to swallow when it pointed to something ugly. And now, standing before the final door, Lieutenant Cole Mercer couldn¡¯t shake the nagging hope that ¨C for once ¨C the intel might be wrong.


    Moving the body of an insurgent aside, he took a slow breath and readied his AK-74M as he stacked up on the wall to the left. Mack fell in behind him, while Miles and Ethan mirrored the move on the right.


    Cole nodded to Miles.


    The team¡¯s breacher aimed his shotgun at the doorknob, angling the barrel almost straight down before squeezing the trigger. Letting the shotgun hang from its sling, Miles swapped to his AKS-74U and kicked the door open before pulling back to the concealment offered by the wall.


    The flashbang followed, right on cue. Mack tossed it right over Cole¡¯s shoulder, the small explosive rolling across the floor inside before detonating with a sharp crack. Any JNI fighters inside would be disoriented, yeah, but not completely incapacitated. Flashbangs weren¡¯t the magic wands Hollywood peddled, but then again, the dipshits inside had probably never tasted one before.


    Somewhere back home, there was probably a PowerPoint ranger getting a hard-on over their ¡®successful implementation of entry protocols¡¯ ¨C textbook Open, Grenade, and Clear. As if blowing shit up was ever that complicated. Being careful not to blow the wrong shit up, on the other hand, was a different story.


    Cole flowed through the doorway first, followed by Ethan. As soon as he entered, he fired three suppressed shots at the left ¨C no subsequent return fire. Ethan¡¯s three shots toward the right garnered the same result. They¡¯d just dropped the only two hostiles in the room.


    ¡°Clear,¡± Cole announced.


    He surveyed the aftermath of his grisly wetwork. Efficient, yeah, but he knew better than to call it beautiful. There was nothing beautiful about this business, no matter how well it was done.


    Two Nadir fighters lay crumpled on the floor, expressions frozen in pain and shock. They were young, probably enough to be his college-age sister¡¯s peers. Cole felt a pang of something as he glanced over their bodies ¨C something that might have been regret in another life. Young, and now dead. Two more names for the endless litany of the fallen, their blood on the hands of Jamaat al-Nadir al-Istiqamah. Damn JNI and their bullshit crusade claiming more kids who should''ve known better.


    Cole then took in the rest of the room: five wide-eyed hostages huddled in the corner, and there it was ¨C the pie?ce de re?sistance, a reinforced metal container taking up a good portion of the floor space near the large glass windows. This was the exact kind of device they''d been warned about during the briefing. The reinforced casing and the harrowingly exposed lead-lined core confirmed the device¡¯s nature ¨C radiological dispersal.


    He recognized the setup from the slides they¡¯d been shown just hours before. Fuck, it wasn¡¯t some basic-ass IED cobbled together with spare parts, but a bonafide dirty bomb, designed to spread radioactive material across a city - and kill millions in the process.


    The streets below teemed with a roiling mass of pro-JNI demonstrators that hadn¡¯t been there when they first entered the building. Cole felt his gut twist. All these people, oblivious to the fact that their supposed saviors were about to turn them into radioactive martyrs. Some jihad that was ¨C had a real je ne sais quoi about it. Dying for a cause they barely understood.


    He turned his gaze back to the bomb. Ethan crouched before it, carefully probing the underside with a small inspection mirror while Mack worked on calming down the hostages. Through the silence, the Geiger counter on his belt clicked faintly. By some divine miracle, they weren¡¯t getting cooked any worse than when taking a chest X-ray. It was... unexpected.


    ¡°Walker, how is it?¡± Cole asked.


    Ethan paused, tilting his head as he peered inside a crudely welded access panel and snapped several pictures. ¡°Nasty shit, Mercer. Jury rigged, but smart. Standard wiring, probably hooked up to a primary detonator. Thank God the shielding looks good, at least. 4 hour timer.¡±


    Despite that, Ethan still looked... uncertain. ¡°Alright,¡± Cole replied slowly, ¡°so what¡¯s the issue? Not enough time?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I could get this fucker neutralized in a half hour. The real issue is the shielding. Why¡¯s it this good? Shit don¡¯t make any sense. Everything else¡¯s cobbled together, but not this.¡±


    ¡°Shit...¡± Cole felt his heart drop. He tapped the push-to-talk button clipped to his vest, giving a quick update to Command.


    After confirming receipt of the message, he approached Mack, who knelt in front of the hostages. One of them seemed on the verge of a panic attack: a young man with sweat dripping down his face. Losing the gag, he spoke in a voice shakier than that of a celebrity caught red-handed with an obscene amount of baby oil.


    The query was simple: how were they gonna evacuate? Hell, if only the solution were as simple. The man¡¯s eyes darted toward the door, searching for any escape with the desperation of a rat on a sinking ship.


    Mack reached into his pack, pulling out rappel equipment ¨C two pre-cut static ropes, carabiners, harnesses, and some Industrial Descenders. Offering the load-bearing anchors to Cole, Mack addressed the hostage''s question in Arabic. He pointed toward the windows with all the enthusiasm of a man pointing out the emergency exits on a plane.


    He held up one of the harnesses, shaking it slightly as if to demonstrate its purpose. He tightened the straps, a process as comforting as watching a hangman check his knots.


    The young man¡¯s breath hitched. He stiffened as realization dawned: they weren¡¯t taking the easy way down.


    Mack nodded, resting a hand on the boy¡¯s knee before speaking. His tone was gentle, but it was the kind reserved for goodbyes. ¡®Everything is gonna be okay?¡¯ It was a blatant lie, sure, but maybe the kid needed that more than the truth.


    As he stood up, Cole noticed it ¨C a gaping wound on Mack¡¯s side. ¡°Aw, fuck.¡± He quickly turned Mack around, confirming the exit wound on the other side with bitter relief.


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving,¡± Mack decided. ¡°You can patch me up later.¡±


    His voice was steady for now, the adrenaline probably carrying him. Still upright, still operational, but Cole knew the window was closing. The blood loss would hit hard soon.


    Mack, always the bleeding heart. Now he was literally bleeding for it ¨C a tragic symmetry, wrapped in shitty irony.


    Miles returned just in time to catch the bad news, but his report brought a bit of a reprieve. ¡°Backside¡¯s clear. There¡¯s a construction site up ahead; too tight for vehicles.¡±


    Cole took it for what it was ¨C a brief opening, but better than nothing. He could tend to Mack once they got there. He turned to Ethan, calling out, ¡°Walker, we¡¯re moving out the back!¡±


    The man already shifted to cover their exit. Cole slung Mack¡¯s arm over his shoulder and swapped to his sidearm, allowing his rifle to hang on its sling. Mack¡¯s weight slowed him down, but they moved fast, pushing through the alley behind the cafe.


    The construction site wasn¡¯t far, just past a crumbling wall and a half-finished block of buildings. Taking down a pair of insurgents, they crossed into the site ¨C an open area littered with piles of concrete blocks, rusted scaffolding, and the skeleton of a garage. It definitely wasn¡¯t ideal cover, but it would suffice for now.


    Cole glanced around ¨C clear for now, but painstakingly temporary as all respites were. The Nadirs would be converging on them soon.


    ¡°Citadel, Sentinel Actual. Grid 38S RV 128563. We¡¯re pinned down near the intersection of Shari¡¯a Al-Hariri and the construction site. One wounded, combat ineffective, requesting immediate CASEVAC and fire support, over.¡±


    The radio hissed back at Cole, the white noise deafening in its indifference, as if mocking the hope he barely allowed himself to feel. Then came the saving grace.


    ¡°Sentinel Actual, Aegis. Airspace cleared. An STS recovery team is en route to your location. ETA is 20 mikes. City is crawling with JNI, recommend holding position until reinforcements arrive. Prepare for CASEVAC and stand by for further instructions. Aegis, out.¡±


    Fucking finally! But 20 fucking minutes? With the Nadirs on their way, in a city supposedly full of them? They were sitting ducks, praying they didn¡¯t get found; praying none of the insurgents from earlier had managed to point out their location before dying.


    Cole turned his attention back to Mack, Ethan and Miles already holding the perimeter. ¡°We got friendlies inbound, but we¡¯re fucked for the next 20. Imma patch you up quick, so lay down, face up, alright?¡±


    Mack nodded, twisting to remove his backpack. Cole accepted it, digging out the Advanced First Aid Kit lodged within.


    ¡°Gauze and Kerlix first, disinfect later,¡± Mack wheezed out.


    Cole nodded, packing the wound with combat gauze. Blood soaked through quickly, but it¡¯d hold for now. Applying pressure, he wrapped the wound tight with the Kerlix roll and secured it all with an ACE bandage.


    Mack¡¯s voice verged on hoarseness, but thank God it still maintained coherency. ¡°Morphine... Inject...¡±


    Cole pulled out the morphine injector and jabbed it into Mack¡¯s thigh, then grabbed another. Nah, one was enough. He didn¡¯t want to overdo it just yet.


    Mack groaned. ¡°Epi... keep pressure up.¡±


    He complied, pulling out the epinephrine injector from his kit and pressing it into Mack¡¯s arm. Cole worked as fast as he could, moving onto setting up the saline bag and IV line as pallor crept up to Mack¡¯s face. But... what came after saline?


    Mack seemed to sense what Cole was thinking. His breath was shallow, but he forced the next words out. ¡°TXA... in the kit... prevents clots from breaking down.¡±


    Ethan shouted something from the other side, but Cole couldn¡¯t afford to look. He fished out the vial. Tranexamic acid? He had no clue what the hell it was, but if Mack said to use it, he wasn¡¯t gonna argue. ¡°Fuck it,¡± he muttered, jamming it into the line.


    ¡°Haemaccel now, wit¨C¡± he coughed, ¡°with the saline.¡±


    Cole prepped the haemaccel bag next, gunfire already starting to echo throughout the concrete structure.


    ¡°Alright, now the fent. In my pack,¡± Mack rasped. ¡°ACTIQ... lollipop...¡±


    ¡°First time guy¡¯s ever asked me for a lollipop,¡± Cole smirked, almost forcing a laugh. He grabbed the ACTIQ stick, shoving it into Mack¡¯s mouth. ¡°Suck, don¡¯t swallow. This ain¡¯t that kinda party.¡±


    A faint, pained chuckle escaped Mack as he clenched weakly around the stick. The drug worked fast, the lines on his face easing a bit. Mack¡¯s breath hitched again. ¡°Just bought a couple hours... if I¡¯m lucky.¡±


    Shit, a couple of hours? They¡¯d be lucky to make it five minutes. The gunfire grew more intense, a brief lull settling in as Ethan and Miles made it back to his position.


    ¡°How¡¯s it lookin¡¯?¡± Miles asked, positioning himself behind a stack of rebar.


    ¡°Mack¡¯s stabilized, for now. He¡¯ll make it, but,¡± Cole said, glancing down at his watch, ¡°our guys are still ten minutes out.¡±


    ¡°Shit...¡± Ethan muttered.


    Miles kept staring forward, breaking the subsequent silence with a sigh. ¡°To Valhalla, then.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s been a helluva ride,¡± Cole mustered up his best pep talk. ¡°If ya really think about it, we basically stopped World War 3. And hey, at least we can get the show on the road with the Jadirans now.¡±


    ¡°Man... Fuck the Jadirans,¡± Mack muttered, slurring every word except fuck, which, unsurprisingly, came out clear as day.


    Cole snorted. ¡°Yeah, fuck the Jadirans.¡±


    As if presenting that exact opportunity on a silver platter, the first wave of JNI fighters poured in, making their way up the garage¡¯s ramp and exterior stairway. This wave, it seemed, had hardly received any training in urban combat ¨C or in any combat, for that matter.


    Cole¡¯s muzzle flashed as three insurgents dropped, bodies crumbling on the concrete ramp. Walker fired over the edge, onto the hapless remnants below who scrambled ¨C with all the futility of resisting the Borg ¨C for cover. The next four ascending the stairway crumpled, Miles dispatching them like hunting easy game.


    Eight minutes left. Of course, the moment Cole felt any sliver of hope, reality immediately crushed it. More tires screeched to a halt outside, and he risked a peek. They¡¯d dealt with the first wave easily enough, but this? It dwarfed it ¨C a force five times the size, with fighters who looked like they''d survived more than a few battlefields.


    ¡°Well,¡± Miles said, finally turning to Cole. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll get this out while I still can. Your sister¡¯s hot as hell.¡±


    Cole ejected a spent magazine, slamming a fresh one in. ¡°Needed certain death to get that one off your chest, huh?¡± He scoffed, ¡°Alright, if we make it back home I¡¯ll be sure to tell her you said that at your funeral.¡±


    Miles smirked, but it simmered as he adopted a more serious tone. ¡°But for real though, it¡¯s an honor to die at your side.¡±


    Well, that was a sentimental side he hadn¡¯t expected out of him. Cole paused as he searched for an appropriate response ¨C something he¡¯d seen in a movie once. ¡°It¡¯s an honor to have lived at yours. All of you.¡±


    A bit cheesy, maybe, but it felt right in his heart. If anyone thought it didn¡¯t fit, fuck ¡®em.


    The wind whipped up suddenly, swirling dust and debris through the garage ¨C and only the garage, curiously enough. Outside, insurgents advanced across the lot, oblivious to the localized maelstrom.


    ¡°The hell?¡± Ethan muttered.


    The swirling intensified, kicking up more dust. Beneath their feet, glowing lines etched themselves into the concrete, a familiarity that sang of countless nights devouring questionable manga and anime.


    Ethan and Miles traded baffled looks, clearly not privy to Cole¡¯s epiphany.


    The air around them bent, warping like heat off Jadiran asphalt. Their world peeled away, unraveling as the light grew.


    A million thoughts overwhelmed Cole. Fuck, what would his sister think? She¡¯d no doubt receive that dreaded visit from uniformed officers, carrying that dreaded folded flag, thrust into the dreaded finality of a memorial service with an empty casket.


    At the same time, he couldn¡¯t ignore the Lord¡¯s truly impeccable timing, and the fact that they¡¯d be getting a second chance ¨C the fact that Mack could yet survive.


    ¡°No fuckin¡¯ wa¨C¡±


    The light consumed them. Everything folded inward, collapsing into that glowing circle.

 Chapter 2: Arrival

    They weren¡¯t dead ¨C not in the conventional sense, anyway. How long had it been? An instant? A day? The last thing he remembered was gunfire, Miles wanting to fuck his sister, and a mob of zealots chasing martyrdom. Now, it was silent stone underfoot, the sudden absence of the Jadiran chaos both disorienting and, oddly enough, a relief. That, and a strange pressure point along his spine that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    Just as he¡¯d figured, they¡¯d been isekai¡¯d. Of course, it could be one of those FUBAR versions where being summoned was a fate worse than death, but even that beat their last stand at the garage. Better odds for him and, thank God, for Mack. He¡¯d still need real treatment, but here, at least, they had a shot.


    Cole took in the room. Stone walls, bare, save for the glowing inscriptions carved into the surface. Runes, if he had to guess. They didn¡¯t mean much to him, but they were obviously more than decoration. Likely some kind of defense?


    The guards were another story. They wore scaled brigandine armor, reinforced with composite layering that looked built to absorb impacts as much as deflect them. Half knight, half riflemen, they were equipped for both close combat and ranged attack ¨C odd, but perhaps even necessary given the evidential existence of magic. Above all, their gear had the unmistakable look of standardization: identical armor, rifles of the same model. Somebody had clearly put some serious thought into this setup.


    ¡°Yo, what the actual fuck?¡± Miles muttered beside them. His voice sounded tense as shit, but the lack of reaction from the guards suggested he¡¯d at least kept most of his cool.


    Apparently, the guards had prepared for the summoning quite well. They stood in a loose formation, hands on weapons but pointed down; ready, but not aggressive. The guards struck a balance: vigilant enough to manage any unexpected hostility, yet restrained to avoid provoking it. Their numbers and firepower rendered any thought of forcing an exit futile. But then, given their stance and respectful demeanor, it didn¡¯t seem Cole would need that option anyway.


    Cole kept his stance mirrored to theirs: rifle at the low ready, not aiming. A quick glance confirmed Ethan and Miles had caught on as well, following his lead. Discipline kept them sharp and ready ¨C as much as possible for guys who¡¯d just been isekai¡¯d. No doubt fighting through shock worse than Cole¡¯s, they spread out to form a loose cordon around Mack.


    Directly before them stood a man who didn¡¯t match the guards. Middle-aged, dressed like some court official from a bygone era, he projected a calm authority. His stance was open, hand visible and empty, almost like a police negotiator sizing up a standoff. A diplomat, maybe, or something similar.


    From the lack of hostility, it seemed like they were about to be crowned heroes. But Cole knew better than to buy into the pageantry; he¡¯d seen enough isekai to know settings like these had a habit of chewing up saviors and spitting out scapegoats. Sure, letting anime guide his thinking felt a bit absurd, but the caution was sound ¨C and his instincts backed it up. ¡°Identify yourselves.¡±


    ¡°Sir Fotham Fallamore, Director of Thaumaturgy, at your service, gentlemen.¡± The man gave a light bow, answering in English. Naturally. After all, what was an isekai without a built-in autotranslator? The man¡¯s lips synced perfectly with the words, oddly enough. So many questions, but Cole could pick it apart later; top priority was getting a read on this situation.


    He continued, ¡°On behalf of the Kingdom of Celdorne, I welcome you to the planet of Tenria. I shall trust that you will pardon this sudden change of scene ¨C though I must think, given the peril you left behind, that it might yet prove something of a reprieve.¡±


    A reprieve. So he knew. That meant this wasn¡¯t some blind summoning ritual; they were handpicked. How flattering. And the way Fotham spoke, with that polished, genteel elegance? Well, Cole could appreciate the nuance. It took skill to convey gratitude and expectation all in one breath.


    ¡°His Majesty, King Armonde Celdor, as you might expect, extends his deepest gratitude for your timely appearance here, though I imagine you find yourselves drawn in rather less willingly than you would prefer.¡±


    Cole felt a scoff bubbling inside him. Less willingly was a hell of an understatement, but he had to admit, they were alive. While he could see the framing of this gratitude ¨C a gambit in diplomatic parlance ¨C it was hard to deny that they owed some thanks. There was a debt here, however unasked-for.


    ¡°Nevertheless, here we are, bound together by circumstance, improbable though it may be. We shall, of course, see to your companion¡¯s recovery without delay ¨C a small token of goodwill, if you will. One which, I daresay, you might recall when we speak further on matters of service you may render to the Crown. And once he is settled, rest assured, I shall gladly explain all that has transpired to bring you hither, as far as knowledge permits.¡±


    So that was the game: a gesture of goodwill, coupled with a request dressed in decorum. How convenient they had to get summoned at the paradoxically worst and best time possible. Still, Cole respected the finesse. They¡¯d bought his team¡¯s lives with magic, and now the tab was due. But for Mack¡¯s sake, he could play along, let them do their ¡®token of goodwill¡¯, and then get the lay of the land. Gratitude wasn¡¯t blind, after all, and he¡¯d make sure they held onto enough leverage to navigate this.


    But... how exactly were they gonna ¡®see to¡¯ Mack¡¯s recovery? Magic? It sounded great in theory, but there was no way he¡¯d trust it implicitly; too many variables. He had no idea how they handled the basics of wound care. Maybe they had germ theory. Maybe they used magic in place of disinfectants, or maybe they didn¡¯t bother at all, assuming the spells took care of it.


    And what about debris? The bullet that hit Mack passed straight through, but if it hadn¡¯t? If they thought ¡®healing¡¯ meant just sealing the skin, that might trap all sorts of foreign particles inside. Past that, being able to heal tissue didn¡¯t mean they¡¯d catch internal issues like bleeding or damaged nerves. A quick fix wouldn¡¯t do Mack any favors if they missed something deeper.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Cole conceded. ¡°Let me clean the wound first. I ain¡¯t letting you do a thing, either ¨C not until I know exactly what you intend to do.¡±


    Fotham offered a slight smile. ¡°Our healing, I grant you, may appear unconventional to you. But I assure you, it¡¯s quite comprehensive. We address the wound in its entirety ¨C both seen and unseen harms, if you will. But by all means, tend to your companion as you see fit. I¡¯d think no less of it.¡±


    Cole peeled back Mack¡¯s bandaging. Blood started seeping out again, filling the air with the scent of iron. At least it wasn¡¯t bright red; no arterial spray. He pressed gauze over it, applying enough pressure to slow the bleed but not too much to cause more damage. Grabbing the saline, he flushed the wound.


    Everything seemed fine so far ¨C aside from the clear shock and blood loss. He then applied the disinfectant, which elicited a short cough from Fotham. Cole ignored it, focusing on the wound. After coating the area thoroughly, he removed the bloodied bandages, clearing the way for the healers. R???


    It was risky, trusting them to this extent, but there was no other option. Cole understood first aid as well as any other operator, but he was no medic, and he was certainly no surgeon. The only viable option, as much as he disliked it, was to gamble with magic. He stepped back, giving Fotham a nod.


    The two healers approached: an older guy who looked like he¡¯d seen his fair share of battlefields, and a blonde girl with pointy ears ¨C an elf, if he was seeing things right ¨C who looked just out of her twenties. Then again, if she was an elf, who knew what that meant. Cole figured the older guy was the lead, but it was the girl who moved in, hands aglow with a soft white light. She held her hand over the cleaned wound while the older guy kept the region isolated with barriers. Small particles floated upward ¨C dead skin, debris that the flush missed.


    It was a small detail, but it at least showed they had protocol. Thorough, yes ¨C a comfort of sorts. But that didn¡¯t mean he could trust the process. No gloves? Concerning, but maybe they didn¡¯t need any.


    As the light shifted from white to green, the skin around the wound began to knit itself together.


    ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± Ethan breathed, turning slightly away, yet still drawn to it ¨C like watching a LiveLeak video.


    Miles, apparently, wasn¡¯t spared from it either. ¡°Hell, that ain¡¯t right.¡±


    The process was far from the clean, antiseptic affair of sci-fi or the pleasant warmth of the fictional magic he¡¯d been exposed to. Shit, this was biology laid bare, accelerated to a nauseating degree. Tendrils of red snaked through the wound, layers of tissue writhing and fusing over them like hateful flesh.


    ¡°Oh, you may walk away if you like,¡± Fotham replied, waving a hand with what looked like indifference, though Cole doubted he was half as relaxed as he wanted to seem. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to live as you please here in Celdorne. I¡¯d only caution that when the demons arrive ¨C and they will ¨C they shan¡¯t be selective in their slaughter. You¡¯d be fighting for survival in a world reduced to ashes, but do feel free to opt for that quaint sort of freedom.¡±


    Cole frowned. It seemed like they really did have no other option. ¡°Fight for a world that could still be saved, or wander off and watch it burn around us.¡±


    ¡°Same shit, different toilet,¡± Miles grumbled. ¡°Hajis for demons? Hell, just another fancy way of sayin¡¯ we ain¡¯t got a choice.¡±


    ¡°Think of it less as an ultimatum and more as a... courtesy. We offer you the chance to make a difference, to prevent the demons from leveling every last corner of this realm. Should you refuse, of course, you¡¯d be left to brave the aftermath. But I¡¯d wager you wouldn¡¯t much care for the scenery.¡±


    Spotting the first window they¡¯d seen since their arrival, they reached the infirmary at last. Fotham and his guards stepped to the sides, permitting their entry.


    A chill met them as they entered, drawing Cole¡¯s gaze upward. Spheres lined the walls, smooth and linked by copper pipes that led to a box mounted outside one of the windows. A cooling system, evidently ¨C pretty damn pragmatic for a world seemingly enamored with the arcane. At least they understood the value of keeping things cool. Great for infection control, and not a bad perk for summer and food storage, either.


    The floor of the infirmary itself was lined with cots, all etched with runes, likely enchanted for healing. Well, if it worked, it worked. Most of the tools looked familiar enough ¨C the scalpels and vials, anyway. Cole could hardly guess at what the fluids in said vials might be for, or what the crystalline rings on a corner table were supposed to do.


    The healers eased Mack down on one of the cots, the older guy leaving to tend to another patient while the blonde elf immediately checked his eyes with ungloved hands. Honestly, it still felt off, a jarring deviation from ingrained protocol. But hey, maybe they really did know what they were doing. Their earlier performance ¨C the magic cleansing, the isolation barriers, hell, even the cooling and ventilation in this room ¨C all pointed to a grasp of germ theory that, while primitive by modern standards, was functional enough.


    Ethan walked up, standing over Mack¡¯s unconscious form. He looked at the elf. ¡°You said he just needed a month of rest, right?¡±


    The girl gave a reassuring smile, the same kind doctors used to calm a worried relative. ¡°Yes, and fear not, he will have our full attention as he recovers. Our healers attend at all hours. Should there be any change, you¡¯ll be informed without delay.¡±


    Cole glanced down at Mack. It was all up to his body and the healers now. ¡°Alright,¡± he sighed, returning to the elf. ¡°Thank you, Doctor uh...¡±


    ¡°Elina Gracer,¡± the girl said, offering a smile. ¡°Just call me Elina.¡±


    ¡°Yes, thank you, Elina,¡± Cole said, giving a nod to Miles and Ethan.


    As they regrouped, Miles addressed Fotham. ¡°Alright. So what¡¯re we in for with this King of yours? Fair warnin¡¯, I ain¡¯t got the slightest clue about all that noble etiquette business. I¡¯d rather not get myself axed on my first day here.¡±


    ¡°You have little to worry about, provided you observe even the slightest modicum of civility. His Majesty, you see, appreciates frankness ¨C by all means, speak freely. Of course, do not neglect proper decorum. Hence, it is proper to address him as ¡®Your Majesty.¡¯


    ¡°Got it. Anything else?¡± Cole asked.


    ¡°Should you accept the King¡¯s proposition, you shall find Celdorne quite prepared to cultivate your talents. You will be trained not only in combat, but in the use and control of your latent magic. Further, you¡¯ll be instructed in the fundamental aspects of our kingdom¡¯s culture ¨C its customs, currency, written language, and other necessities that will enable your adaptation. All will prepare you for your role as Slayers under the Office of Threat Assessment and Control.¡±


    Cole cocked an eyebrow. Well, that wasn¡¯t too bad, all things considered. Fotham¡¯s little info dump was as revealing in its omissions as its admissions. Generosity was just a veil. If they were willing to invest this much in them, the demons must be quite the shitshow. At least the JNI killed their targets quickly. No doubt they¡¯d soon be wishing they¡¯d taken the offer to return home.


    ¡°And if we say no?¡±


    Fotham shrugged. ¡°Well, my offer of citizenship was entirely sincere. You would receive a reimbursement sufficient to establish yourselves comfortably. You would, of course, be at liberty to pursue a life of your choosing, though without the resources and stature accorded to Slayers.¡±


    After a pause, Fotham continued. ¡°Regardless of the path you choose, rest assured, your man shall receive our full care until he is entirely restored.¡±


    Quite the info dump to process, and with those opulent double doors looming ahead, time to let it sink in was at a premium. Par for the course, really ¨C overload the new arrivals with exposition, then whisk them off before they could reason it out. Cole could only hope His Majesty would deign to give them at least a day to reflect.


    Though that, of course, hinged on the rather optimistic assumption that the King gave two shits about their thoughts on the matter. After all, why risk the new heroes getting cold feet? Far simpler to present their glorious destiny as a fait accompli.


    One small concession at a time ¨C that was Fotham¡¯s game. Heal the dying friend, earn the trust, then oh-so-casually suggest they might want to look less like a blood-spattered death squad before their royal debut. Fair enough. Cole could definitely respect that.


    The military-style garments were a nice touch. Practical enough as a replacement for their fatigues, proper enough for court, and just happened to make them look like they already belonged. They¡¯d keep their tactical gear, naturally ¨C that wasn¡¯t up for negotiation, and their gracious host knew better than to push that particular envelope. The opportunity to wash away all that blood, on the other hand, was an offer Cole readily accepted.


    And naturally, their little makeover funneled them into whatever Fotham had orchestrated. Look the part, play the part, become the part ¨C all before they¡¯d officially agreed to anything. Well, at least they wouldn¡¯t have to fuck up the first impression by looking like murder hobos from some edgelord¡¯s manhwa.


    As they arrived, two sentries stepped forward, pushing the doors open.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Fotham said, stepping aside, ¡°His Majesty awaits.¡±

 Chapter 3: Celdorne

    Each new sight really lightened Cole''s opinion of Celdorne. A throne room, historically, should represent power; architectural dick-measuring rendered in marble and gold leaf. But the chokepoint past the doors and the firing slits overhead suggested someone who understood the difference between showing power and keeping it. Not much of a surprise considering the practicality of the interior design in the summoning chamber and the infirmary.


    Similarly, the king defied easy categorization. Those ears gave away elven blood ¨C shorter than the healer¡¯s but distinctly pointed ¨C which made his apparent age a puzzle. Middle-aged by human standards, hair graying at the temples, but half-elven biology threw all those markers into question. Even his authority broke the monarchical playbook. Instead of some ostentatious crown, he wore just a simple circlet, though the sheen of the metal and the way those inset gems caught the light suggested ¡®simple¡¯ might be relative when it came to magical enhancements.


    Either way, he had the look of someone who¡¯d long since dispensed with ceremonial bullshit in favor of getting things done. Well, it basically tracked with everything else so far.


    ¡°At last. I had wondered what manner of soldiers might answer our call.¡± Not exactly the warmest welcome, but then again, Cole doubted anyone felt particularly cheerful about this arrangement. ¡°I am Armonde Celdor, King of Celdorne. And you are?¡±


    Cole bowed. ¡°Lieutenant Cole Mercer of the United States Army, Your Majesty. With me are Sergeants Miles Garrett and Ethan Walker.¡±


    ¡°You may raise your heads. I trust Director Fallamore has explained something of our situation?¡±


    ¡°He has, Your Majesty.¡±


    When Armonde spoke again, it was with the direct attention of a commander evaluating troops instead of a king entertaining guests. ¡°You would not be the first to stand against the tide. But I would hear your thoughts on the matter.¡±


    Cole had to admire the king¡¯s technique ¨C skip past with the whole ¡®will you help us¡¯ dialogue. Create the illusion of choice while boxing them into the desired outcome. Though really, what choice was there?


    Certain death versus a hero¡¯s welcome ¨C obvious enough, but he still wanted to think it through. The right answer wouldn¡¯t change by morning, but the best decisions were the ones he could still defend after a night¡¯s sleep.


    ¡°We¡¯d like some time to think it over,¡± Cole said.


    The faint smile that cross the King¡¯s face suggested he¡¯d expected as much. ¡°Of course. Take what time you require to reach your decision.¡± He gestured to Fotham. ¡°In the meantime, Director Fallamore shall show you about the grounds and ¨C rather more consequential ¨C determine the extent of your magic.¡±


    Magic. Right. After all those late nights of isekai, the chance to actually test his own magical potential... Funny how that thought alone could almost make him forget his family would have to bury an empty coffin. Almost.


    ¡°The guest wing stands ready for you; you may select your own chambers,¡± Armonde continued. ¡°Your servants will bring your evening meal there. The Scrying Pane upon the wall acts as a window between us. Should word arrive of your companion in the infirmary, or should you wish to speak, we may converse through it. Take the night to consider. We shall meet again on the morrow.¡±


    A Scrying Pane, huh? Magical FaceTime sounded real useful, even before considering the implications of real-time communication in warfare. Somehow, it was both a blessing and a curse being presented with a fait accompli like this; less time racking their brains over a decision, more time analyzing what they had to work with.


    Cole bowed, following the Director¡¯s lead.


    ¡°Man.¡± Miles¡¯ voice was quiet as they exited the throne room. ¡°Mack¡¯s gonna lose his shit when he wakes up. All them D&D seshes, and now... hell, we¡¯re actually gettin¡¯ tested for magic.¡±


    Cole chuckled, almost needing to force it. The comment landed... differently than intended. Everyone caught the ¡®when.¡¯ But at least it gave them something to think about ¨C another distraction from the reality that now faced them.


    Cole remembered how Mack would go on about magic theory in his games, especially the one time he stuck a ring of enlargement in front of his gun. He¡¯d probably have a thousand questions about how magic worked here. Probably? Shit, definitely.


    Turning the corner and seeing the aesthetics of the hallways shift from dark stone to comfortable wood brought Cole back to the present. He addressed Fotham, ¡°So, Director, how exactly does one measure magical potential?¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Fotham led them down the wood-paneled corridor. Honestly, the atmosphere wouldn¡¯t look out of place in one of those old universities ¨C Harvard, Oxford, and such. ¡°We find ourselves obliged to make use of an apparatus called a manameter ¨C being no more elaborate than a sequence of graduated chambers which measures the concentration of mana.¡±


    Well, that was different. Usually these scenarios involved touching some glowing crystal ball that lit up with convenient color-coding. The term ¡®manameter¡¯ suggested something far more precise. Celdorne¡¯s fascination with Victorian methodology was starting to read less like an aesthetic choice and more like fundamental principle. Not that Cole would complain; in fact, it ranked among the few redeeming features of this impromptu isekai.


    ¡°The procedure itself is, I assure you, possessed of an almost elegant simplicity: you need only cast a barrier spell at a prescribed distance while this clever little device performs its measurement. We¡¯ve multiple safeguards to ensure the pressure of any mana does not result in a shower of glass.¡±


    They stopped at a door with a brass placard. The foreign script provided the first tangible limitation to the translation magic that had gotten them smoothly through first contact. Perhaps Fotham¡¯s offer to teach them about Celdorne¡¯s culture wasn¡¯t mere courtesy after all.


    Beyond the placard, and despite the castle¡¯s medieval trappings, lay a decidedly academic space. Metal-reinforced walls and copper-like mesh across the windows hinted at some form of isolation ¨C probably from ambient magic, given the context. The familiar shapes of thermometers and barometers along one wall suggested environmental monitoring - whatever that purple liquid was, it still had to follow basic physics.


    A tall glass instrument dominated the far corner: a series of seven identical bulbs connected vertically, rising from a base reservoir where the measurement fluid sat inert. Each bulb bore three distinct markings, likely indicating ranges, given how the liquid would need to fill one chamber before overflowing to the next.


    A simple line marked the floor three feet from the device, also marked with unknown numerals. The attention to detail tracked with everything else they''d seen so far.


    ¡°As with all matters of precision,¡± Fotham said, indicating the line, ¡°we find ourselves bound by standardization. Now then ¨C shall we address the barrier spell itself before proceeding to any tests? One ought to begin with fundamentals, I dare say.¡±


    Cole gave him a nod.


    The Director brought them to a series of anatomical diagrams along the wall. ¡°The manipulation of mana, you see, stems from a particular gland near the spine ¨C the nerves directing its secretions while the blood bears its influence throughout one¡¯s person. Not unlike the way fear or excitement spreads its effects through the body, if you take my meaning.¡±


    The diagrams showed cross-sections of human anatomy ¨C someone had clearly indulged in a rather excessive number of dissections to achieve this level of detail. Though the alien labels meant nothing, Fotham¡¯s earlier gestures made the subject clear enough.


    ¡°Lieutenant?¡± Moment of truth. Time to find out just what the summoning had given him.


    Cole took position. Right, then ¨C flood the barrier with every bit of mana he could muster. The fluid rose through the first bulb almost immediately, his barrier snapping into that hexagonal resonance without the earlier wobble. Practice made perfect, apparently.


    The second chamber filled as he pushed harder. Different sensation now, like pressing against an invisible wall while that warmth flooded through his nervous system. His barrier flickered brighter, patterns growing more distinct as he forced more power through them. The liquid crept into the third chamber.


    More. The warmth flowed through his body as he channeled everything he had. Past Ethan''s mark now, climbing toward the second line of the fourth bulb. Cole grit his teeth, maintaining that perfect resonance even as the energy threatened to destabilize.


    The fluid finally settled.


    ¡°Level twelve.¡± Was that satisfaction on Fotham¡¯s face?


    Cole held back a smirk. Not bad for a nice little tour de force. Definitely not bad, considering the high probability of the alternative level 1 cliche. Now to see what Miles could do.


    Miles took his position, expression focused as he formed his barrier. The liquid climbed steadily through the chambers, finally settling at the first mark of the fourth bulb.


    ¡°Level ten.¡± Fotham nodded, then lowered his voice. ¡°Well then. Three competent heroes at the price of a single summoning ¨C not the most remarkable heroes one might hope for, perhaps, though I dare say rather efficient in terms of expense.¡±


    Remarkable heroes. Hell, if Fotham was still disappointed, just what kind of monsters were they supposed to be fighting?


    ¡°Now then, I believe His Majesty mentioned showing you about the grounds? There are several matters which may be of interest to you ¨C the library, the training yards, and of course, the armory.¡±


    Cole couldn¡¯t disagree. Yeah, it¡¯d be pretty interesting to see just how those guns of theirs worked and, more importantly, how they interacted with magic. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    Fotham guided them through an adjoining door from the lab section. It opened directly onto what had to be the castle¡¯s research library ¨C three floors of shelving with the same Victorian sensibilities as everywhere else. A network of copper pipes crossed the ceiling, keeping the books cool and dry.


    He led them past empty reading tables to a section near the entrance. ¡°Your preliminary materials for the orientation period,¡± Fotham explained, indicating the prepared books before gesturing to the brass gates that barred the upper floors. ¡°Further resources shall become available to you once you¡¯ve been properly integrated with OTAC.¡±


    Cole pulled out a random volume while Ethan and Miles looked around. Maybe it just took a while for translation to kick in? Unsurprisingly, the spine¡¯s script remained as stubbornly foreign as the placard outside the testing room. Still, he grabbed another ¨C that familiar, futile optimism of rechecking an empty fridge. No joy. He slid it back with a sigh. Fotham¡¯s offer seemed almost mandatory now.


    ¡°So, uh... say we agree to help you. What¡¯s the training sequence look like?¡± Cole asked.


    ¡°A months¡¯ instruction in the fundamentals, I should think ¨C matters of language, cultural particulars, basic theory of magic. Following that, presuming you find our arrangement agreeable, you would transfer to OTAC¡¯s facilities for the full course of Slayer training. You may, of course, find yourself interacting with other offices. My own ¨C the Office of Thaumaturgy ¨C maintains certain... collaborative interests with OTAC where matters of specialized magical knowledge are concerned.¡±


    ¡°Specialized, huh?¡± Miles walked over. ¡°Like, what kinda specialized?¡±


    ¡°That rather depends on the circumstances. Summoning heroes, for one,¡± Fotham replied, nodding his head to them.


    Fair enough. The answer was pretty vague, but Cole couldn¡¯t reasonably expect the man to betray OPSEC on a whim. They¡¯d probably learn soon enough about it anyway.


    ¡°Well then.¡± Fotham clasped his hands. ¡°Shall we proceed to the yards?¡±


    Deep booms from heavy rifles echoed down the corridor ¨C certainly not any measly .22. The report suggested something well beyond .50 caliber, which didn¡¯t bode well for his future encounters with whatever the hell required that much stopping power.


    Fotham led them through a covered walkway that opened onto the castle¡¯s western yard. A series of firing positions had been set up at the far end, occupied presumably by researchers donning heavy canvas coats, leather aprons, and face shields.


    The rifles they worked with looked similar to the ones he¡¯d seen the guards using, albeit with a few minor differences ¨C some sort of pocket near the stock, gleaming brass-like fittings around the chamber, and runic patterns spiraling down the barrels. Each shot distorted the air like heat waves rippling outward.


    ¡°Our research division, testing various enchantment configurations,¡± Fotham said.


    Mauser action ¨C or something close enough. The shooter seemed to have the rhythm down: load a round, flip what looked like a selector by the trigger guard, pause for a moment ¨C probably channeling mana ¨C then fire. First couple shots were normal enough, just cratering the reinforced backstop. Then came something different ¨C blue flash from the chamber, and the next impact somehow turned the splintered wood to ice. More than just frost; looked like the cold radiated outward from the point of impact.


    Interesting. It answered a few questions about their design and how they worked, but raised about a dozen more. The selector had to be for choosing effects, but what about the split-second timing between shots? And what stopped the effect from dissipating after the bullet left the barrel? It was probably connected to those brass-like fittings somehow ¨C basic mechanical linkage tied to the trigger, perhaps.


    ¡°Enjoying the demonstration, hm?¡±


    The question snapped Cole out of his analysis. He offered a nod.


    Fotham smiled. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d care to try it yourself?¡±

 Chapter 4: Size Matters

    Fotham led them to the armory complex beside the training yards. Cole paused at the weapon racks. The rifles shared that Lee Enfield profile, but the builds were closer to anti-materiel weapons ¨C the kinds normally reserved for taking out light vehicles. And these weren¡¯t specialized loadouts. Every rack held the same heavy configuration, as if a weapon on the scale of a Barrett .50 cal was nothing but standard issue. Just how much punishment could demons take?


    ¡°Those shall come in due course,¡± Fotham said. ¡°Though, I dare say we ought first attend to the matter of keeping your bones intact when firing one.¡±


    Cole smirked. ¡°Yeah, good idea.¡±


    Past the ranks of weapons and armor in the main hall, an adjoining chamber opened up. Simple training equipment lined the walls ¨C racks of weighted spheres and bars marked with numbered bands. Even in another world, pumping iron was still pumping iron.


    Fotham pulled down three iron spheres. ¡°Here. Take the measure of its weight first, without trying any magic.¡±


    Cole grabbed the handle of one, compensating against the familiar heft ¨C 60 pounds, based on the inscription on it. Exactly 60 pounds, oddly enough.


    Before he could even begin to wonder what that implied, the Celdornian grabbed another, which had to mass at least twice as much.


    Where a normal guy of his stature would¡¯ve likely snapped a muscle just trying to pick it up, Fotham raised it over his head as easily as one would lift up a phone. Anyone who¡¯d done enough weight training could spot the wrongness immediately. He lacked bracing, muscle tension ¨C hell, there was basically no adjustment for the shifting center of mass at all!


    The man¡¯s body simply refused to acknowledge what that weight should be doing to it.


    ¡°Most practitioners, upon their first attempts, endeavor to envelop themselves in mana ¨C rather like wrapping oneself in invisible armor. Most inefficient indeed. As with barriers ¨C while one might certainly shroud oneself completely, you shall find precise application yields superior results. A single, well-placed barrier demands far less mana than attempting to shield oneself from every quarter, does it not?¡±


    Fotham set down his weight. ¡°Start simple. How does lifting the sphere feel?¡±


    Cole raised his arm, curling. ¡°Familiar enough. Starts with a bit of tension in the forearm, then the bicep takes over. Gotta brace a bit so the shoulder stays locked in place.¡±


    ¡°Hell, ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ to it,¡± Miles said, working his weight.


    ¡°Quite so. Now then ¨C attend to that inner warmth,¡± Fotham said, gesturing to his chest. ¡°Rather like stoking a furnace, one must cultivate the heat ere attempting to direct it. Now, observe the sequence.¡±


    He lifted his weight again. ¡°The strength begins in the great muscles that anchor your arm to the chest wall. It flows thence through the shoulder, down through the upper arm, like blood through the veins. Each portion of flesh knows its role in sequence.¡±


    Cole closed his eyes, focusing on that strange new organ and the warmth it produced. Getting the mana flowing wasn¡¯t the hard part anymore. But trying to enhance his muscles directly just wasn¡¯t working; almost like trying to fill a water balloon by spraying it with a hose. The mana dispersed uselessly, and the sphere stayed stubbornly, precisely 60 pounds.


    ¡°Too much force,¡± Fotham corrected. ¡°Attend first to how you hold the sphere.¡±


    Cole adjusted, toning down the flow of the warmth like he was twisting a faucet. Still nothing. Next to him, Miles kept shifting his grip slightly, like he was close to something but couldn¡¯t quite get it.


    ¡°The tendons,¡± he explained, tracing lines across his arm, ¡°guide its course, much as great ropes bind muscle to bone. Do you feel how they tighten in sequence? The mana must follow these same paths. Direct it elsewhere, and you shall find yourself working quite against the natural design of your body.¡±


    Made sense. They¡¯d figured out the basic hardware, probably through a bit too many dissections ¨C muscles, tendons, major nerve bundles. But they were missing the whole control system; the interplay of neural pathways that turned those mechanical parts into coordinated movement.


    Wait.


    Cole paused, glancing down at his weight. He thought back to the barrier magic, how the mana had felt like adrenaline flowing through his system. And adrenaline worked both ways, didn¡¯t it? Flooding the bloodstream like Fotham was describing, but also firing through neural pathways. Two systems, working together.


    If mana followed that same pattern... maybe he was thinking about the wrong paths. Not just the blood vessels and muscles Fotham was describing, but the neural pathways that controlled them. The same ones that governed force production and power output ¨C the real key to strength.


    He focused on the grip sequence again; not on the muscles themselves, but on the force generation pathway. He focused on the way his body coordinated the lift, from stabilizers to prime movers. This time, he let the mana flow along those same neural roads. r?


    The warmth spread differently now - not fighting his body¡¯s architecture but enhancing it. It went from an uncontrollable overflow to following the exact pathways his system already used to produce force. The weight shifted slightly.


    ¡°Indeed, like so,¡± Fotham said, approving of Miles¡¯ work.


    Huh. It wasn¡¯t Ethan this time. Cole continued the movement, letting the mana amplify each step of the sequence he knew by heart. Like taking his body¡¯s normal strength production and cranking up the gain. No way would he let himself be the last to figure it out.


    The weight began to feel very different indeed.


    Mana crystal? It wasn¡¯t the most creative name, but at least it was easy on the lips.


    Fotham selected the fire rune, which flickered to life just before he squeezed the trigger. A red flash engulfed the weapon as he fired, accompanied by a much sharper crack ¨C like comparing standard 5.56 to hot-loaded match ammo. Same round, way more juice behind it.


    The target showed a clean hole, but what followed was pure high-explosive incendiary. The exit crater erupted in a shower of dirt and flames, leaving the earthen backstop glowing red-hot around the impact. Physics was still physics, at least. More velocity? More kinetic energy. But hell if the magic didn¡¯t add its own crazy flavor to the mix.


    ¡°Much as with our prior exercise in strengthening, one must first perceive and direct its flow. The channels are already wrought within ¨C you need only guide it.¡± Fotham showed his posture. ¡°Place your hand thus. You¡¯ll find the crystal¡¯s emanations rather cooler than your own mana.¡±


    Cole did as Fotham instructed. The pathways were there, sure enough. It almost felt like an extension of himself; probably the same as what the various fictional characters he¡¯d seen might¡¯ve felt when handling a wand or sword.


    ¡°Now then ¨C strengthen yourselves,¡± Fotham said. ¡°And when channeling the crystal¡¯s mana, begin with but a trickle. The rifle should be quite responsive even to minimal input.¡±


    Cole nodded. He searched for the sweet spot where the rifle still had enough weight to handle naturally. Making it too light would be like trying to shoot a Nerf gun. He needed at least some mass for stability, for the familiar feedback of a proper weapon.


    He focused on the crystal next. Minimal flow. The enchantment rune flickered dimly.


    He fired.


    The recoil was still substantial, but his enhanced muscles absorbed it better now. Like firing a .50 BMG, but with his whole body tuned to manage the force. The rifle stayed on target through the shot. Physics still applied, thankfully, but at least hitting follow-up shots would be easier with strengthening magic.


    The fire and air runes though... improved deflagration was one thing, but that kind of power increase? The pressure curve had to be getting modified somehow. Maybe the runes were controlling the gas expansion rate in the chamber? Regular deflagration could only push a round so hard, no matter how perfectly the powder burned.


    It kinda reminded him of those experimental ETC guns DARPA had played around with, using plasma to jack up the energy transfer. He couldn¡¯t say for sure without dissecting it or learning how to read runes, but the magic had to be doing something similar ¨C pushing that pressure wave faster, harder, closer to detonation speeds without actually crossing that line. No wonder they needed special chamber materials.


    ¡°Well, holy hot damn.¡± Miles lowered his rifle, a grin stretching across his face. His target showed similar handiwork ¨C clean in, catastrophic out. ¡°And that¡¯s barely any juice?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. While precision and control shall generally serve you better, occasions arise whereby brute force proves necessary. The greater demons are not so readily dispatched. Best to master both approaches. Start with minimal enhancement, then we shall proceed upward in measure. Now, try the other selections.¡±


    Next up were the ice rounds. Leave it to Victorian combat engineers to look at hollow points and think ¡® eh, not quite devastating enough.¡¯ The initial wound channel was just the starting point ¨C those crystalline formations propagated through the target mass as if giving it the Han Solo treatment, only engineered specifically for maximum tissue destruction.


    Hell of a way to bypass the Geneva Convention¡¯s restrictions. Though given what they were up against, perhaps excessive force was precisely the point. And besides, demons definitely weren¡¯t covered under the accords.


    Then there was the lightning setting.


    DARPA had blown billions trying to develop directed energy weapons, and here was Celdorne solving the problem with Victorian metallurgy and some particularly aggressive runes. Not those neuromuscular disruption payloads that never quite worked; nah, this was actual lightning delivered straight through a bullet somehow. The projectile punched through and turned the whole wound channel into a conductor. The great Nikola Tesla would''ve been either fascinated or apoplectic.


    ¡°Now, without the crystal. Steady pressure, like a well-regulated steam valve. Too much force will strain the channels.¡±


    Cole channeled his mana outward ¨C a similar feeling to casting barrier magic. However, this required more finesse, more like maintaining steady pressure through an IV drip than trying to fill a pool with a fire hose. Once he found the right flow rate, it felt no different from using the crystal¡¯s power supply. Same pathways, same response from the rifle; just drawing from his own reserves instead of an external source.


    And thank God it didn¡¯t demand much from his own reserves. His head was still throbbing from the strengthening magic and barrier test, and that dull ache in his lower back had grown from a minor pain into an acupuncturing mishap. Only his admiration of the weapon¡¯s design philosophy offered any hope of distraction, though even that seemed questionable.


    The Celdorians must have approached this through steam engine theory, but wasn¡¯t mana flow closer to fluid dynamics? Too much flow rate leading to turbulence, wasting energy and risking damage? Would explain their emphasis on control, and why the crystals seemed to output at specific rates. Made sense as a backup too ¨C something that enabled tired men to keep on trucking. He¡¯d have to check the library when he could; there had to be something on the framework behind all this.


    ¡°Excellent progress,¡± Fotham said. ¡°I perceive you possess a rather promising facility for channeling. We shall, of course, refine your sustained output during your initial course of instruction.¡±


    Ethan chuckled. ¡°He¡¯s got a way with words, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    The library comment stuck with Cole. Fotham carried the same presumptive tone as the king¡¯s offer ¨C as if their acceptance was merely a formality waiting to happen. Which, it was, quite honestly. But hell if the lack of agency didn¡¯t just grind his gears.


    ¡°The rest of the tour beckons,¡± Fotham announced, barely giving them time to process. ¡°I believe you¡¯ll be rather excited to see what our kitchens and guest accommodations have to offer.¡±


    Cole returned his cleared rifle to the rack. All the planning that must¡¯ve gone into this ¨C not just the weapons themselves, but also the civilization that had spent years, decades, perfecting them... It couldn¡¯t be from some haphazard response to a demon incursion. It was a long-term development that suggested an equally long-term threat, one he¡¯d be signing away his life to. But hey, it¡¯d all be worth it if the food¡¯s good and if the beds are comfy, right?

 Chapter 5: Home Sweet Home

    The infirmary was close enough to the armory to justify a quick revisit, but lingering any longer than necessary wasn¡¯t worth it. Mack was still there, lying in his bed, at the mercy of his coma. Cole could visit later; for now, just familiarizing himself with the basic layout would do.


    The kitchen proved more lively.


    The area rivaled any modern commercial operation in scope. Despite the numerous occupied stovetops aglow with flames and red light, the room didn¡¯t feel stuffy ¨C like a Korean BBQ joint with proper ventilation. Another steampunk pastiche, courtesy of Celdorne¡¯s finest artisans.


    None of the dishes looked familiar though. Various meats Cole couldn¡¯t identify sizzled in massive pots, surrounded by vegetables that definitely weren¡¯t in any Earth cookbook. The smells were good, at least. Hell, after dealing with a JNI dirty bomb, the ensuing clusterfuck, and then getting isekai¡¯d, his stomach couldn''t care less about alien gastronomy.


    Fotham, despite his intentions on behalf of the kingdom, seemed at least considerate of the shit they¡¯d been through. Probably having heard their growling stomachs, Fotham led them to a cook built like he¡¯d spent his life hauling heavy sacks of food and cookware.


    ¡°Master Marwin,¡± Fotham greeted him. ¡°Our special guests have been at practice. Three mana potions, if you please.¡±


    ¡°Training, are they?¡± The cook gave their gear a long look, but his thoughts remained unspoken. ¡°Never seen soldiers fitted thus ¨C begging your pardon, of course.¡± Turning to a shelf, he grabbed three blue vials. ¡°Fair warning: nary a soul drinks this without grimacing. Bitter as an Aurelian at market. Though we¡¯ve ways of making it less offensive.¡±


    Marwin turned to what looked like an icebox built into the wall. ¡°Sunfruit press helps it down. Or...¡± He pulled open the door, cold air spilling out. ¡°Ah! Apples from the southern provinces, fresh as morning. Rare sight indeed. Though... well, there¡¯s other mixtures that serve just as well.¡±


    As enticing as it was to get hammered after dealing with the strangest day of his life, Cole had to turn down the offer. ¡°Yeah, maybe another time. I think we¡¯ll just go with the uh, the apple juice, right?¡±


    His team nodded, eagerly so. Looked like no one wanted to play guinea pig with sunfruit ¨C not today at least. The apple mix would do just fine; they¡¯d already signed up for one mystery drink with that blue stuff, and that was plenty for now.


    They downed the drinks together.


    Not bad ¨C the apple juice masked most of that promised bitterness, though a metallic aftertaste lingered. The warmth spreading through Cole¡¯s chest felt like that first sip of coffee in the morning, minus the usual jitters. Some of that training fatigue started to fade too.


    ¡°Hungry lot, I¡¯d wager,¡± the cook said, still tending his pots. ¡°Got a good consomme? on ¨C marsh buck stewed with koreth root. Been at it since dawn. Also got drell flanks rubbed with viss and aged in wine. Sarn and cave pheasant from the eastern ranges. Riverfish in melted butter with fresh shrolt.¡± He wiped his hands on his apron. ¡°His Majesty¡¯s special guests ought to eat proper, after all.¡±


    The aromas wafting through the kitchen conjured up those fancy cooking shows where even the intrepid hosts sometimes found themselves linguistically fucked. Koreth root? Viss? At least ¡®marsh buck¡¯ and ¡®cave pheasant¡¯ gave him some idea what he¡¯d be eating. The wine-rich smell from that drell dish was pretty darn promising though. After months of MREs, he sure as hell wasn¡¯t gonna turn down some royal Michelin star bangers.


    ¡°Hell, reckon we might as well try a bit of everything,¡± Miles said, probably thinking the same thing. ¡°Ain¡¯t had somethin¡¯ proper in a minute.¡±


    No argument there. At this point, Cole would¡¯ve demolished a 7/11 hot dog, let alone whatever culinary extravagance they were about to get.


    Fotham nodded to Marwin. ¡°I shall have the maids fetch the meals when our guests have settled upon their quarters. Now,¡± he turned to Cole and the others, ¡°let us proceed to the guest wing.¡±


    From the kitchens, a series of corridors branched deeper into the castle complex. Cole kept track of their turns ¨C left at the first major intersection, past what looked like administrative offices, then up a broad staircase lined with bright lamps.


    Their path led through an open-air colonnade, where afternoon light threw bold shadows across a checkered marble floor. The castle grounds stretched out below, visible between the classical columns. Reminded him of those old European castles he¡¯d visited years back. Same grandeur, same attention to detail, almost literally. Funny how that worked; of all the possible forms an isekai world could take, it just had to be medieval European fantasy. Maybe architectural styles followed some universal law of convergent evolution?


    The guest wing occupied the castle''s eastern corner. It was perfect for visiting nobles or foreign dignitaries ¨C morning sun, decent elevation, multiple evacuation routes if Cole read those hallway junctions right. The deeper they went, the more refined the decor became. Polished wood replaced stone walls while elaborate carpets replaced marble.


    Runic patterns lit up as they passed, almost acting like motion sensors ¨C some kinda monitoring system, probably. The guards they''d passed were positioned at key junctions, maintaining clear lines of sight down each corridor. Between this and the fortress-level security from when they¡¯d first arrived, it seemed like Celdorne definitely didn¡¯t take any chances.


    ¡°Those runes,¡± Ethan said, ¡°Motion sensors?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Fotham paused in front of one of the runes. "Experience has taught us, rather painfully, that certain demons may bend light to conceal their presence. These runes perceive their movement and render such sorcery quite useless.¡±


    He led them down the final corridor, stopping at the first of several identical wooden doors. ¡°Your chambers,¡± he said, gesturing inside.


    But then, what was that other door down the corridor?


    ¡°The service passage.¡± Fotham opened it, revealing a simple hallway. ¡°Though I dare say you''ll find little purpose in it, save perhaps for giving the maids a fright.¡±


    So, another entrance. Or exit.


    Cole nodded, returning to the living room. The afternoon sun made it feel warm, cozy, well-earned. ¡°Alright then. Four rooms; one for each of us plus one for Mack when he¡¯s back on his feet. Seems good to me.¡±


    ¡°Yup,¡± Miles agreed.


    Cole glanced at Ethan. He gave a thumbs up.


    Perfect. Cole turned to Fotham. ¡°We¡¯ll take the suite.¡±


    ¡°Very good. Then, allow me to show you the Scrying Pane.¡±


    He brought them back to the master bedroom, stopping at the mirror mounted above the desk. When he turned one of the brass dials on its frame, the mirror¡¯s surface brightened with a magical glow.


    ¡°Each number upon the dial connects to its appointed chamber.¡± He gestured to the reference card. ¡°The guard posts occupy the first four, followed by the throne room, infirmary, kitchens, and this floor¡¯s servants. Here is your own copy of the registry ¨C I suggest you commit the essential numbers to memory.¡±


    Cole accepted it, looking through the list. A directory system. Simple, practical, much like the simple ones hotels usually had.


    Fotham turned to the first position and the mirror¡¯s surface rippled before showing two guards at their post. The image quality made early Skype look cutting-edge, but hell, they¡¯d solved video calls while their counterparts on Earth were barely on the telegraph.


    ¡°Director,¡± one of the guards nodded.


    ¡°As you were.¡± His image disappeared as Fotham returned the dial to the starting point. ¡°When the mirror brightens and chimes, turn here from ¡®inactive¡¯ to ¡®active.¡¯ Return it so when you wish to end the connection.¡±


    Fotham moved on to a second dial. ¡°In times of urgency, turn to the first position ¨C it shall alert all guard posts at once.¡±


    Cole nodded. Before him were the essential features distilled to their simplest form ¨C ring, answer, hang up. Even included their little version of 911. ¡°And security?¡±


    ¡°The mirrors are fixed in place, and our chambers remain quite restricted. We¡¯ve found no cause for concern these many years.¡±


    Physical security ¨C the original access controlled. Fair enough. When a network required line of sight and manual operation, ¡®hacking¡¯ became a strictly literal affair.


    ¡°Have you any questions? The Pane? Your chambers?¡± Fotham asked.


    Miles and Ethan shook their heads.


    ¡°Think we¡¯re good,¡± Cole said. ¡°You¡¯ve been thorough; thanks.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Your servants shall bring your evening meal in an hour''s time. Should you require anything before then, they may be reached via position eight.¡± Fotham gave a slight bow. ¡°Good evening, gentlemen.¡±


    The door closed with a soft click. Time to familiarize themselves with home sweet home.

 Chapter 6: Visitors

    Miles immediately collapsed into one of the velvet armchairs in the living room, vest, pack, and all. ¡°Well hot damn. Rich don¡¯t even begin to cover it. And here I thought them Highland Park houses were somethin¡¯.¡±


    Cole snorted. ¡°One percent versus point one, dude. And that¡¯s not even factoring the magic mirrors.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Hell, I bet they probably got some fancy-ass Victorian bidet in the bathroom too. Slap a water rune on there, shoot it right up your ass.¡±


    Ethan tore himself away from the temperature runes. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know. Bet you¡¯re wondering if there¡¯s a pressure setting, too.¡±


    ¡°Aw, hell,¡± Miles chuckled, raising up his arms. ¡°C¡¯mon now, that¡¯s all you. I ain¡¯t think up that shit; you did.¡±


    Cole grinned, absently channeling that warmth he was starting to get used to. He formed a flat barrier almost subconsciously, about waist high. He moved it around. Huh; it might actually make transportation easier, if he could keep it steady.


    He lifted his pack onto the surface. It held, but getting it across was another story, like trying to carry a full cup of coffee without spilling. By the time he managed to float it over to the couch, his forehead was damp with sweat.


    ¡°Show off.¡± Miles formed his own barrier. His pack slid right off the tilted surface. ¡°Well shit.¡±


    Ethan¡¯s attempt almost made it onto a couch before his barrier yawed to the side, dumping his pack onto the floor. ¡°Easy making it, damn hard keeping it steady.¡±


    ¡°Like training a new muscle. Shit, literally,¡± Miles said, concentrating on his second attempt. The pack wobbled but stayed up this time. ¡°Hey, there we¨C fuck.¡± It slid off again.


    Cole glanced at their gear. ¡°We should probably start doing inventory. Figure out what we¡¯ve got.¡±


    Ethan opened his pack. ¡°Well, we¡¯ve got an hour ¡®til food. Plenty of time to sort our shit out.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Cole looked around. ¡°Plus some extra time to scope out our surroundings.¡±


    Cole immediately got to work. It was the first chance they¡¯d had to clean weapons since this whole mess started. His AK-74M was still caked with blood and sand from the construction site ¨C everything had been non-stop since the skyscraper, and continued even unto their second life. Mack in the infirmary, meeting the king, magic lessons, and then messing around with those oversized bolt actions.


    If there were any solace, it¡¯d be the fact that the rifles were pretty usable even if they¡¯d never see 5.45 again.


    ¡°Got three mags,¡± Miles reported, laying out his gear on a table. Dark flecks already marked the carpet where they¡¯d left their bloodied equipment. His AKS-74U looked about as bad. ¡°Two full, one partial. Shotgun¡¯s still good, though.¡±


    Cole popped his dust cover. Shit was a mess ¨C construction site dust mixed with dried blood from those JNI fuckers shooting into the crowd. ¡°Three and a half. Damn.¡±


    ¡°Three and change,¡± Ethan said, stripping down his FAL.


    Even with their sidearms untouched, their remaining firepower wasn¡¯t anything to get excited over. These would be their last mags until... well, forever, probably. And there was no telling what else might come knocking. ¡°Quick clean now, full detail in the morning.¡± Cole glanced at the stained carpet. Fuck it; not like they could make it much worse.


    The familiar routine helped clear his head a bit. Nobody had bothered them for at least half an hour ¨C probably wouldn¡¯t until dinner.


    The remaining spread wasn¡¯t much to get excited over, either. Three frags a pop, plus three more if they grabbed Mack¡¯s stuff from the infirmary. Most of their flashbangs had gone into that high-rise breach. Cole had three left, Miles two, Ethan four. Three breaching charges between them. Their demo kit was mostly intact since they hadn¡¯t needed to blow that bomb ¨C or anything else, for that matter.


    NVGs checked out, still stowed away neatly. Comms would need testing tomorrow, see what range they could get in a castle. Medical looked alright; they¡¯d hardly touched their individual first aid kits, and Mack¡¯s advanced one should last a good bit. Long enough to either learn healing magic or teach these guys how to make penicillin. Maybe both.


    He rifled through the rest of his pack, gripping a slim rectangular object. On the list of the many things he¡¯d miss, this thing was somewhere up there. He pulled his Samsung from his pack. No service ¨C fucking shocking. Still had juice though. Calculator, camera, notes, cached manuals, even his Spotify downloads and Bloons Tower Defense. Definitely worth keeping charged. Thank God for spare solar charges. At this point, they may as well be holy relics.


    ¡°Well.¡± Miles set his cleaned AKS aside. ¡°Reckon these are just wall hangers now. ¡®Less 5.45 actually works on demons.¡±


    Cole crossed to the windows, looking outside. Perfect view of the courtyard ¨C as picturesque as any important noble might hope to see. But it was also exactly what you¡¯d give soldiers you wanted to garrison.


    The stone window seat was a nice touch, real fancy noble shit that just so happened to make a perfect headglitch for covering the gates. Though Nuketown window wars probably didn¡¯t compare to holding off literal demonic hordes. r??


    ¡°After today? Wouldn¡¯t rule anything out.¡±


    Miles stood up. ¡°Fair enough. Guess I oughta check out the service hall.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll walk around a bit. See what else is up here,¡± Ethan added.


    Cole nodded. Being stuck with checking out the suite wasn¡¯t all too bad; he probably would¡¯ve done it anyway. He started with the usual spots ¨C light fixtures, under furniture, behind curtains. Not that he¡¯d recognize a magical bug if he found one, but he had to at least try. The heating runes in the corners seemed normal enough, same as the ones Fotham had shown them earlier, but fuck if he knew what else they could do.


    If they had magical listening devices, they weren¡¯t anything obvious ¨C though what counted as obvious in a place with scrying mirrors was anyone¡¯s guess. For all he knew, the king could watch them take a shit if he wanted to.


    He¡¯d scoured the common areas and three bedrooms and had just started a sweep of the final one when Miles came back. ¡°Service hall loops around the whole floor. Got doors to at least six other rooms, all locked ¡®cept ours.¡± He dropped into one of the chairs. ¡°Ran into a maid. They¡¯ve got keys, use it pretty regular.¡±


    Ethan returned as Cole wrapped up with the last bedroom. ¡°No neighbors. Got another suite next door before the hallway opens up. Same on the other side. Guards offered to show me around when they saw my vest.¡± He tapped the bloodied American flag. ¡°This wing¡¯s for ¡®honored guests¡¯ ¨C suppose that¡¯s us now. Got a decent view of the gardens on the other side.¡±


    Three knocks at the service door interrupted them. The smell hit Cole before he even reached the door. Well, damn. If whatever they were bringing smelled this good through castle walls, dinner might just make up for this shitstorm of a day. The kitchen tour had already reset his standards ¨C after watching Marwin cookery, MREs felt like some cruel culinary joke.


    Old habits kept his hand on the Glock 21 in his coat pocket as he approached the door.


    ¡°Service, if you please.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, come in.¡± He opened it carefully.


    Ethan chuckled.


    Miles placed his empty plates on the cart. ¡°Man, y¡¯all know damn well Mack ain¡¯t turning it down. Shit¡¯s basically a dream come true for him.¡±


    ¡°True.¡± Cole got up, stacking the rest of the dishware on the cart. He wheeled it into the service corridor, empty save for a few flickering lights.


    Returning to the living room, he spotted a little tea table by the window. Not exactly ADT, but those cups would make enough noise if someone tried any of the entrances.


    He dragged it closer to the main entrance, earning a weird look from Ethan.


    ¡°What are you doing with ¨C ah, good idea.¡±


    ¡°Yup.¡± Cole positioned it near the door, arranging the cups and saucers ¨C bull in a china shop. ¡°Makeshift alarm.¡±


    Ethan grabbed another table, bringing it toward the service corridor.


    Thank God Celdorne also seemed obsessed with Victorian tea culture. Though why this was the case would likely forever remain a mystery. More convergent evolution? Isekai¡¯d Englishman back in the day? Anyone¡¯s guess, really.


    Cole tested the setup by the front door. Yeah, those porcelain cups would wake the dead if someone tried sneaking in. But frankly, anyone who could magic their way past castle walls probably wouldn¡¯t bother with doors. ¡°Alright, rooms. Doors all open, nothing obstructing them.¡±


    Miles pointed to the room on the left, next to the master bedroom. ¡°I¡¯ll take that one.¡±


    Ethan took the one across from the master bedroom. ¡°We sleeping in kit?¡±


    Cole considered it. Full gear would suck balls, but being caught with pants literally down would suck worse. ¡°Stripped down, plates nearby.¡±


    They spent the next fifteen minutes arranging furniture, so anyone on watch would be able to see both doors from a window seat in the living room.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Cole checked his watch. ¡°2200 to 0100, 0100 to 0400, 0400 to 0700. That gets us up before their morning routine kicks in.¡± He nodded to Miles. ¡°Garrett, second shift. Walker third. Use the down time to write shit down ¨C anything that could help. Engineering, chemistry, tactics, basic science, whatever.¡±


    ¡°Man,¡± Ethan grumbled. ¡°Wish I''d brought one of those civilization restart books.¡±


    ¡°Hindsight¡¯s a bitch, ain¡¯t it?¡± Miles shrugged. ¡°Night y¡¯all.¡±


    ¡°Night.¡±


    Cole settled into his seat near the window. ¡°Sweet dreams, fellas.¡±


    He pulled out a small notebook from his pack as they retired to their rooms. The courtyard below was well-lit, torches supplementing whatever magic they used for the lightbulbs. The natural lighting almost seemed unsettling, but at least he didn¡¯t have to strain his eyes looking down at his notebook.


    Where does one even start rebuilding modern knowledge from scratch? The stuff they¡¯d seen today ¨C those rifles, the healing magic, the strangely Victorian or Gilded setups ¨C it all pointed to a technological base that was advanced in some ways but had strange gaps in others. Like they speedran the industrial revolution using magic instead of pure steam power.


    Then there were the odd alignments with things an alien planet probably shouldn¡¯t be familiar with ¨C 3 of their distance units being 3 feet, 60 of their weight units being about the same as 60 pounds.


    Well, he could probably skip the basic stuff. These guys probably knew all about trigonometry and algebra already, maybe even calculus.


    First things first ¨C shit that would actually keep them alive. Partial derivatives could come after everything else, if he even remembered enough about them to write something cohesive.


    So, weapons. Their current ammo wouldn¡¯t last forever, but with the Gilded-Victorian tech level here plus magic, proper smokeless powder wasn¡¯t impossible. Getting the nitration process right would be tricky, but he at least had somewhere to start. Maybe Miles or Ethan would be able to fill in the gaps or corroborate his info. He jotted down what he could remember on bullet weights, powder charges, primer compounds, and rifling patterns before wrapping up the section with disjointed notes.


    Medical came next. He hated thinking about it, but he had to prepare for the worst case scenario. Mack¡¯s recovery wasn¡¯t a guarantee, and neither was the efficacy of healing magic. He needed to jot down everything he knew about proper field medicine ¨C basic trauma procedures, wound management, anything he could remember about antibiotics from biology class. It wasn¡¯t as much as he¡¯d hoped for, but it was something; definitely better than if some random kid got isekai¡¯d.


    Lord willing, they¡¯d have Mack up and about to handle all this for them. Now, what next?


    Basic tactics wasn¡¯t a bad bet. Viet Cong shit would likely come in real useful. But what about more advanced knowledge? Proper radio theory and electromagnetics would be handy, especially if the Celdornians already had some sort of background, however rudimentary. And hell, if his knowledge of cymatics and physiology came in handy for magic, what else might?


    Three sharp knocks fucked up his train of thought. Shit, right when he had a thought about energy conservation and magic.


    ¡°My lords?¡± The voice was gruff, authoritative ¨C likely from a knight. ¡°Urgent summons from His Majesty.¡±


    Cole glanced at his watch. 2350? The fuck kinda king held midnight ¨C wait, didn¡¯t he say something about using the Scrying Pane?


    Yeah, he definitely did. And unless the damn thing broke in the time between Fotham¡¯s demonstration and now, whoever was on the other side of the door must¡¯ve been straight bullshitting.


    Cole set his pen and notebook down, swapping them out for his AK-74M. Everything seemed legit ¨C not in some Hollywood ¡®too legit¡¯ way, but in a genuinely authentic way. Shame Fotham¡¯s little sermon stripped their pro forma perfection of any legitimacy.


    But hey, maybe that was just his paranoia talking ¨C seeing patterns in perfectly innocent midnight summons from a king who¡¯d explicitly told them that he wouldn¡¯t be using midnight summons to reach them. Certainly wasn¡¯t suspicious at all that he¡¯d do so at their weakest, when the exhaustion of nearly dying, dimensional travel, and magical training would be hitting hardest.


    Three more knocks, as polite as the first set. ¡°My lords, His Majesty awaits.¡±


    As good as their facade was, they wouldn¡¯t keep it up forever. Cole needed to buy time ¨C enough for Miles and Ethan to get ready.

 Chapter 7: First Strike

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll be there. Just uh, give us a few minutes to wake up and change.¡±


    The same polite voice resounded from the door. ¡°Of course, my lord. We shall await your convenience.¡±


    Cole retreated to the bedrooms, shaking Miles and Ethan awake.


    Miles put on his vest. ¡°What¡¯s goin¡¯ on?¡±


    ¡°King allegedly wants to see us so he sends goons to pick us up instead of hopping on the magic mirror.¡±


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ A,¡± Ethan grumbled. He readied his FAL. ¡°Plan?¡±


    The keyhole ahead was big enough for a peek. He could try to get a look, but if these weren¡¯t actually knights, getting close to that door was asking to catch a bullet to the eye. Good thing they had a Scrying Pane. Perhaps the other guard posts would know.


    ¡°Give me a sec. I¡¯ll check in with the guards.¡±


    Cole returned to the master bedroom, moving the dial to the first guard post.


    ¡°Yes, my lord?¡± A bearded face appeared, torchlight flickering behind him.


    ¡°Quick question. Did the King send anyone up to get us?¡±


    ¡°No, my lord.¡± The man frowned. ¡°His Majesty retired hours ago. Has someone ¨C¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Cole slapped the emergency rune before the guard could finish. Red light blazed across the mirror¡¯s surface.


    The pounding at the door started before the glow even faded. ¡°OPEN THIS DOOR!¡±


    ¡°Yo, they¡¯re getting antsy out here,¡± Ethan called out as the china set up by the door rattled.


    Shit. The emergency alert worked both fucking ways, apparently.


    Another slam hit the door as Cole stepped into the living room. There went any pretense of legitimacy. These fuckers had just been waiting for an excuse.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t lookin¡¯ good, Mercer.¡± Miles flipped over a heavy table, taking cover behind it.


    Cole positioned himself beside Miles, flipping his weapon¡¯s selector to auto before fishing out a flashbang from his kit. ¡°Yeah, no kidding.¡±


    The door pounded again, splinters of wood flying off. The hinges were probably a few more hits from complete failure ¨C maybe a minute before whoever was on the other side could force an entry.


    They needed a way out. The window was right there, bright moonlight spilling in, but... well, it probably wasn¡¯t the best idea. Sure, he¡¯d managed to float his pack across the room earlier with barrier magic. Moving 30 pounds several feet without slipping had been hard enough; trying to control a full descent down four stories would be suicide. And that was just him.


    Miles couldn¡¯t even keep his pack from sliding off his barrier, and Ethan¡¯s attempt barely fared better. Maybe shape the barrier into a box and give themselves an elevator ride?


    Cole created a small proof-of-concept, the blue glow confirming it could work. Still, though, it wasn¡¯t something he wanted to try unless absolutely necessary.


    Parachute fall? They weren¡¯t designed for unassisted falls, but what if they could strengthen their entire bodies with magic, to absorb the shock? Same principle as their arms during training. But one screwup trying magic they¡¯d just learned today and they¡¯d be testing if those healers could put them back together. Not exactly Plan A material.


    Service corridor? Nah. Even if they could make a chokepoint out of it, all those locked doors meant they¡¯d just be trapping themselves. They could try following the path into the service floor, but who knew what the layout was like? Not to mention getting some maids caught in the crossfire. Heroes probably shouldn¡¯t start their career by getting civilians killed.


    What else was there? Window was out, service hall was out, and staying to fight completely hinged on help arriving promptly. They just needed any way out of this box ¨C one that Ethan¡¯s kit might just have a solution for.


    They wouldn¡¯t be able to hold the table for long ¨C not that it mattered anyway. To make a fucked situation even worse, the air suddenly went arctic right along the table, threatening to freeze their balls off. Whatever it was, Cole definitely wasn¡¯t sticking around for it. He and Miles jumped backward just as spears of ice erupted from the overturned tabletop.


    Should¡¯ve fucking known they wouldn¡¯t stick to plain old swords. Sure, at some point he¡¯d expected to see what actual combat magic looked like in Tenria. He¡¯d been pretty damn curious about it, even.


    Just not a few hours after learning how to make a basic barrier. Not in a life-or-death slugfest.


    And now they were caught in the open, right in their enemy¡¯s line of sight. What the fuck could they do?


    Block those massive rifles with barriers they¡¯d barely learned to make? Shit, maybe Level 10 barriers would be enough, but risking their lives over it would be a fool¡¯s gambit. Getting the swordsmen between them and the gunners, on the other hand...


    Cole shifted left, trying to keep the charging skinwalkers between him and their riflemen. It worked; their own guys were blocking clear shots. Of course, they couldn¡¯t catch a damn break as their small victory was rendered completely moot by the inevitable closing of the gap. So much for keeping this a ranged engagement.


    At least proximity offered one consolation ¨C the beautiful irony in how close quarters nullified their barriers. They couldn¡¯t exactly bisect someone with a wall of their own design in the way. Be it through dispelling the shield or simply pushing it to the side, if they wanted to attack, they¡¯d first have to make themselves vulnerable.


    Coincidentally, the most vulnerable of the fuckers happened to be his first target, purple still leaking from where his AK had punched through earlier.


    The monster raised its sword, shield dropping just like he¡¯d hoped. Maybe being wounded made it expendable in whatever passed for their tactical doctrine, or maybe it was just too fucked up to swing fast enough. Cole put another burst through it, dodging back.


    The thing staggered but kept coming ¨C still took another two bursts before it finally went down. Shit, he may as well be playing Round 30 without Pack-a-Punch. Probably burned through another half a mag including the subsequent security tap, which wasn¡¯t really sustainable considering he had two left. But hey, one less skinwalker to worry about.


    Miles had his own problems sorted. He faced the one he blew the helmet off earlier, catching it exposed mid swing. The buckshot did what buckshot did best ¨C most of its head just wasn¡¯t there anymore; just gone with the fuckin¡¯ wind. Grey matter and bone fragments decorated the wall behind it, splattering what was probably a priceless painting. Oh well.


    The body dropped like a puppet, shield flickering out and sword clattering onto the floor. Two down ¨C a minor victory. Not incredible per se, considering the effort that went into killing just two of them, but force reduction was force reduction. At least they had 8 bullet sponges to worry about instead of 10.


    However, the skinwalkers¡¯ attacks were driving them apart ¨C Miles getting pressured toward the kitchen while the other half pushed Cole deeper into the living room. The enemy was trying to divide and conquer, but there was little he could do about it..


    The living room, thankfully enough, was built for some noble¡¯s fancy parties ¨C plenty of space to work with, even with furniture scattered about. Another creature charged from behind a couch, blade swinging diagonally across. Cole angled a barrier to match, turning a killing stroke into a wide miss. The sword slid harmlessly past.


    A shadow stretched across the floor from the windows ¨C another one trying to flank. Its thrust came straight on ¨C different problem entirely. No deflection angle would help when the point was coming right at his chest. Cole spawned a barrier offset to the side, catching the blade near its tip and forcing it to slide along the surface. The demon¡¯s momentum carried it forward while Cole backed toward the center of the room, away from the corner they were trying to push him into.


    The third rushed his new position from behind a toppled armchair, coming in high while he was managing those deflections. Another barrier, another deflected strike ¨C sword scraping off with a sound like steel on glass. Then the fourth pressed in from the direction of the front door, and his barrier wobbled before stabilizing.


    Fuck. This wasn¡¯t from magical strain; he had plenty left in the tank. Nah, this was just cognitive overload ¨C too much shit to worry about. Four different attacks, calculating angles, popping up barriers, trying to find an opening for his gun, managing positions... it¡¯d probably be attrition that would fuck him over.


    And that¡¯s what made the next reprieve all the more appreciable. The one closest to him overcommitted, barrier nowhere to be found as it tried to take advantage of his tired guard. Cole had been waiting for exactly that kind of mistake. He emptied the last half of his mag straight into its skull, 5.45 rounds crashing into it in a spray of purple. He sidestepped as the body tumbled.


    Three down, probably. But that still left way too many of these fuckers, and now he only had two magazines left. They weren¡¯t giving him any breathing room either ¨C no chance to actually confirm the kill or adjust position outside of a few dashes.


    Cole hit his magazine release, arm already reaching for a fresh mag. The fencer that¡¯d lunged at him earlier came in for another strike. A barrier pushed the sword up and away, but then rifle fire cracked from the doorway.


    The rounds zipped past him, one striking the fencer square in the side. The shot ripped through the fencer, disintegrating it with the same brutality of a Bradley¡¯s autocannon on an insurgent. Gore splattered the dining area, scattered remnants of monstrous organs sullying velvet.


    One of the remaining two swordsmen got caught with shrapnel, sending it reeling ¨C hopefully dead, but Cole would more than settle for temporarily incapacitated.


    Four down and one out of commission, and he hadn¡¯t even lifted a finger. But fuck him if anything ever came easy.


    As ice began crystallizing across the floor, Cole pirouetted away from the jagged spears that erupted where he¡¯d been standing. Whether they¡¯d seen it coming or he¡¯d just been too caught up to see it coming, the result was the same: he¡¯d walked right into their trap.


    In that split second of divided attention, a vice-like grip caught his arm.

 Chapter 8: Mind-blowing

    The creature¡¯s glove clamped down on Cole¡¯s forearm, crushing it with the force of what was damn near an industrial press. His strengthening magic was the only thing keeping his arm intact, but that was a stopgap at best against this kind of force.


    He poured more mana into his arm, trying to reinforce the strengthening effect. The pain was tough to think through ¨C white-hot pulses shooting up into his shoulder and down into fingers, which were starting to go numb.


    He spawned a barrier around the trapped limb in the same moment, trying to reinforce whatever structural integrity he had left. But even with both magical defenses, the relentless bastard¡¯s grip yet threatened to pulverize everything underneath.


    With his arm holding together ¨C barely ¨C he tried to bring up his AK. If he could just spray into this thing¡¯s face, the pressure might let up long enough to break free. The barrel started to rise, but the monster¡¯s other hand shot out faster than he could track, grabbing the handguard and yanking. His entire upper body lurched forward.


    In the same instant, it cocked its leg back. Shit. Cole diverted some mana into his stomach and chest, spawning a barrier just as its boot landed on him.


    For a split second the pressure built like a garrote, rising almost instantly before the sling gave out with a sharp snap.


    His shoulder exploded in agony as the joint absorbed the full force of his body going one way while his arm stayed anchored. Something tore deep inside ¨C felt like he was literally getting disarmed as if this were a fucking Mortal Kombat fatality.


    The rifle went flying somewhere behind the false knight, but he could hardly register that through the pain racing across the entirety of his left arm and torso.


    Then metal scraped as the creature¡¯s sword cleared its sheath.


    He reached for his coat pocket, snapping his Glock 21 up. First instinct was to end this whole problem, so he spammed the trigger. Two rapid shots caught the monster square in the face before a barrier flashed into existence.


    The next string of .45 ACP splashed against the blue shield, sending it flickering but otherwise serving no greater use than throwing rocks at bulletproof glass. Cole stopped firing. He could probably break through the barrier with sheer firepower alone, but he had a more efficient idea.


    There was no way in hell he¡¯d be able to pop some bullets in its skull, but their sword arms always came out vulnerable ¨C had to, if they wanted to actually hit anything.


    Right on cue, the barrier dissipated, leaving the head and torso protected but the sword arm open. It probably realized its own weakness and swung from the right, but all that did was give away the perfect opening.


    Yeah, fuck the barrier. Cole shifted aim to the arm. The .45 punched through the armor, dull violet spraying from the impacts. Each round hit with the kind of stopping power that¡¯d usually fold someone, but this bastard barely seemed to care. Still, after five or six rounds the sword dropped ¨C probably more from mechanical damage than actual pain.


    Alas, the satisfaction of hearing metal hitting the floor was short-fucking-lived. The creature¡¯s face contorted into something horribly wrong. Its jaw stretched wider than bone structure should allow, the teeth looking... almost human, but not quite. More uncanny valley bullshit.


    Somehow, the grey skin and inhuman features were but honorable mentions compared to the unsettling nature of the teeth. They seemed almost designed, as if someone had taken a human mouth and repurposed it for pure hunting ¨C an evolutionary mockery.


    It screeched, crying out with guttural bass and a pitched whine simultaneously.


    Cole kept shooting, but the creature didn¡¯t give a single shit about its mangled arm. With its sword gone, it instead pivoted and swung the wounded limb like a club.


    The strike came in faster than Cole could track, catching his wrist before he could avoid it. The impact felt like getting hit with a steel pipe; his hand went numb instantly. And the worst of it all? His Glock was sent flying somewhere into the chaos behind him.


    So now, that was his sidearm gone too ¨C with half a damn mag still in it. No rifle, no pistol, shoulder about to snap, and his left arm was still caught in a hydraulic press of a grip.


    Wait, it seemed looser now. Cole glanced down at it. He couldn¡¯t see much, but the position of the grip was definitely lower than it¡¯d been earlier; the bastard must¡¯ve lost some surface area when it kicked him. ??


    All the other realizations he¡¯d had today paled against the saving grace before him.


    Cole poured more mana into his trapped arm, expanding the existing barrier. The monster¡¯s grip stayed just as tight, but now he had a bit more control over the surface it was actually holding onto. He continued until there was a small gap between his arm and the magical surface.


    The theory was simple; it¡¯d be like pulling out an arm from a loose winter coat sleeve. The execution? Well, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he popped a vessel trying to squeeze out enough magic power to enlarge his makeshift sleeve. Fighting against that ugly bastard¡¯s strength was an idiotic idea, but an idea nonetheless. It was worth a shot, at least. Better than letting this thing pulverize his arm ¨C or his face, given the messed up baseball bat of an arm that now beelined toward him.


    He channeled strengthening into his legs and core. If he couldn¡¯t make the sleeve big enough, then pure mechanical leverage would have to do. The creature, at this point, still looked none the wiser. Perfect.


    A sharp crack echoed from the hallway behind them.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Ethan called out.


    Smoke and debris billowed from the fresh hole in the bedroom wall. Ethan dove through first, followed by Miles.


    ¡°Covering!¡± Round from Ethan¡¯s FAL zipped past Cole as he broke for the breach.


    Through the debris cloud, one of the false knights rushed after them. Its barrier flashed blue as Ethan hammered it. The 7.62 rounds cracked through after maybe the eighth shot, the blue plane shattering with an ear-shattering whine. The subsequent shots hit center mass, spraying purple.


    Miles¡¯ shotgun finished what Ethan started. The creature¡¯s head disappeared in a spray of blood while Ethan reloaded.


    Through the breach, the adjacent suite looked empty ¨C clean beds, untouched furniture. Cole swept through it by himself while Miles and Ethan held the line, taking full ¨C albeit temporary ¨C advantage of the chokepoint the breach offered them.


    Their weapons kept echoing as Cole approached the suite¡¯s exit; the sound of sustained fire told him enough about how their rear security was going.


    He laid a hand on the doorknob, keeping his AK ready. Of course, the moment he cracked the door, he damn near ate a rifle round to the face. One of those big anti-demon guns pointed right at him from the hallway. He squeezed the trigger while throwing himself backward, spraying through the doorway.


    The first few bullets caught the monster in the chest, more ripping through its throat and jaw as he moved. The thing¡¯s return fire went wide, but fuck if Cole was gonna give it another chance. He continued emptying the mag onto the downed creature, pausing his fire only to address a new threat that had appeared in the doorway.


    Shit. He swiveled his weapon up, but its sight was already on him. No time to dodge, and he sure as shit wouldn¡¯t be able to block one of those damn cannonballs. The best he could do was throw up a half-assed barrier to nudge its aim.


    He spawned one at the rifle¡¯s barrel, pushing it to the side. It fired, still aimed in his general direction.


    The round caught something ¨C slammed his AK sideways with enough force to stagger him. His brain went straight to getting shot, that split second of his life movie playing before realizing he could still breathe; that he could still feel his body. No blood, no pain splitting through his torso... did he get lucky?


    Cole glanced down. Yeah, his chest was intact, alright. But the AK? It looked torn to shit. The round must¡¯ve grazed it ¨C the gas tube was shredded where the bullet had ripped past it, taking a chunk of metal with it.


    He worked the charging handle anyway. AKs were pretty famous for eating shit and asking for seconds, but he was probably asking for too much by now. Complete failure to feed, as expected. Of course ¨C the rifle was toast.


    Gotta at least even the playing field. Cole drew his sword, channeling mana into the blade just like he had with the rifle at the armory. Maybe if he could close the distance before it got another shot off... yeah, one good hit to that rifle and they¡¯d both be stuck with medieval options.


    He lunged forward, propelling himself with strengthened legs before he swung his blade up in a powered arc. The enchanted metal struck the last rifleman¡¯s weapon just below the magazine. It didn¡¯t cut through, but the impact knocked it loose from the well. The force of the blow probably fucked up the internal feed mechanism too, maybe even warped the bolt. Either way, that thing wouldn¡¯t cycle right anymore even if the bastard managed to get another mag in.


    But three more of his buddies materialized in the doorway, blades already drawn. Shit, they¡¯d started out facing ten of these abominations. If they¡¯d eliminated six, and three were still behind the breach, who the hell were these newcomers?


    Cole fell back through the living room, regrouping with Miles and Ethan just outside the bedrooms. As much as he¡¯d like to believe he could take on four opponents with his sword, Cole wasn¡¯t exactly itching to test that theory. Between the shoulder that felt ready to fall off and these things being basically medieval Terminators, it probably wouldn¡¯t end well.


    ¡°Four contacts, front door. Three new ¨C reinforcements, I think.¡±


    ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake. Seven left, then,¡± Miles groaned. He spared a glance at Cole, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Where the fuck¡¯s your gun?¡±


    Cole had almost forgotten he¡¯d been gripping that sword. ¡°It¡¯s cooked.¡±


    Miles reloaded his Benelli M4. ¡°I¡¯ve still got another tube left.¡± He pressed his AKS onto Cole, plus three extra mags. Santa must¡¯ve come early this year.


    But as much as Cole welcomed the offer, all it did was slightly alleviate already terrible circumstances. They were running on fumes, both physically and magically. Well, Ethan probably still had juice in the tank, but that wouldn''t mean shit once his last mag ran dry.


    Boxed in and surrounded with no way out? Deja vu kicked in as Cole assessed their options ¨C or spectacular lack thereof. Hell, unless they were gonna get isekai¡¯d a second time, they were screwed. Miles had seen it coming the moment they landed: same shit, different toilet.

 Chapter 9: Locked In

    One group of monsters by the breach, another by the doorway, and not enough ammo to deal with either ¨C oh, if only the situation were conducive to a happy ending. Cole checked the AKS in his hand. Well, maybe they did have enough ammo to deal with one of the groups, but only if isolated. ¡°Man... Fuck the demons.¡±


    ¡°Hell, we shoulda taken the King¡¯s deal.¡± Miles shifted his grip on his shotgun.


    ¡°Amen to that,¡± Ethan said. ¡°What¡¯s the plan, Mercer?¡±


    Their best bet was to push through one side ¨C likely the breach side, since they¡¯d already been in the mud with them, but how long would that take? The ones pushing in from the suite would undoubtedly shaft them before they could take down all three.


    The window maybe? Nah, that was still solidly a fuck no. Another breach? They wouldn¡¯t have the time. The service corridor? Shit, it might actually work now. Tight quarters were usually a death sentence, but Cole had already trashed the monsters¡¯ rifles. All they¡¯d need to do is send rounds down the corridor, then potentially blow past a doorway if they still needed to run.


    ¡°Service corridor. One long chokepoint.¡± The AKS felt too light in his hands ¨C he¡¯d kill for his M7 or even a good ol¡¯ M4 right about now.


    ¡°Fuck it,¡± Ethan agreed.


    Cole backed up to the service corridor, keeping his AKS trained on the hallway connected to the main suite. The damn things should be coming in right about now...


    The gunfire hit like a thunderclap. The fuck? Those were Celdornian rifles, but much greater in volume ¨C too much for the two who¡¯d had rifles earlier.


    Cole immediately dropped into a crouch. He fought through the pain in his left hand as he opened the door to the corridor behind him. Miles¡¯ remained still in his peripheral vision ¨C he still kept watch over the breach.


    Something massive hit the floor in the main room, the impact rattling the walls hard enough to shake the entire suite. Another crash followed alongside a shriek that lasted a good microsecond before being cut off. It was just gone, like someone hit a mute button.


    The sustained fire kept up for maybe a couple seconds, eight shots in total ¨C two for each monster out in the suite, maybe.


    More shots cracked from the breach behind them; more shrill, abruptly silenced cries piercing through the deafening booms. This had to be the castle¡¯s guards responding to the alert. Who else could the monsters be fighting? Who else could they be dying to?


    The gunfire ceased, but the tinnitus was pervasive as ever. Man, he should¡¯ve grabbed one of those steampunk-looking ear pros from the range when he had the chance.


    Through the ringing, a long whistle carried from the entrance. An answering whistle echoed from behind the breach.


    Thank fuck. That was basic communication ¨C position check between units. The monsters that had threatened to overrun their position barely a minute ago were nowhere to be found, likely shot dead by the mysterious benefactors whistling to each other. Unless this was some sort of convoluted 4D chess play, they might actually have backup.


    ¡°Lieutenant?¡±


    Cole maintained his line of sight. ¡°That you, Fotham?¡±


    ¡°I should think so, unless these fiends have some rather brilliant strategy in mind. For what demon, having mastered our arms at last, would not immediately set about reducing its own kind to ruin? ¡±


    Yeah, that was Fotham alright. He had a good point; if they were another batch of those skinwalkers, why would they kill each other? Why waste time yapping instead of pushing in to finish the job? False flag? Doubtful.


    Might as well see what had happened. ¡°Alright, hold fire; we¡¯re coming out now.¡±


    The scene that greeted him as he stepped out of the hallway made their earlier firefight look like a paintball match. Their 5.45 and 7.62 had punched clean holes; the guards¡¯ rifles had torn entire chunks out of the monsters instead. One by the door was basically bisected, its torso opened up like someone had taken an Apache¡¯s chain gun fire chest-on. The fancy furniture hadn¡¯t fared much better ¨C looked like a recreation of the lobby scene from The Matrix, but with artillery instead of small arms.


    Fotham stood in the center of a formation, flanked by the bearded guard from the Scrying Pane. Only when they lowered their weapons did Cole finally allow himself to relax.


    Miles whistled as he emerged from the hallway. ¡°Great fuckin¡¯ timing.¡±


    Guards moved around the room, shoving and twisting their swords into each corpse.


    The bodies were barely recognizable as the ¡®knights¡¯ that had forced their way into their suite earlier. Whatever glamor they¡¯d used had completely failed, leaving only their true, fugly forms sprawled through the wreckage.


    The purple gore splattered throughout the room would probably render it ¨C or perhaps even the entire wing ¨C unusable for a while. Some of the bodies had limbs and parts hanging by muscle fibers ¨C literal threads. But that wasn¡¯t even the worst part. That handedly went to their uncanny faces, frozen in horrid expressions. Shit, it¡¯d probably belong in some creepypasta hall of fame.


    The plan had been to push through to the service corridor, but now he had a bigger concern: Mack.


    ¡°The infirmary ¨C¡±


    ¡°Already secured,¡± Fotham answered. ¡°It seems all the demons consolidated here, to see you dead.¡±


    ¡°How many did you get?¡± Cole asked.


    Fotham pointed to the four new smears sitting around the suite¡¯s living room. ¡°Four here.¡±


    Another guard approached, coming from the direction of the breach. ¡°My lord, we¡¯ve slain three demons in the other chambers. No sign of further intruders.¡±


    ¡°Swelling, hematomas, I¡¯m guessing,¡± Cole offered.


    ¡°Accumulation of blood, yes.¡± Dr. Halloway intensified the mana flow, directing it toward the blockage. The warmth pressed harder until ¨C fuck ¨C it burst through all at once, sending a rush of sharp relief down his arm. ¡°There ¨C the flow resumes, though the tissues remain inflamed. I¡¯ll heal this momentarily, but first, allow me to check for any other obstructions.¡±


    She ran the mana through Cole¡¯s arm again. ¡°The bone itself remains whole, fortunately. No scattering, no cold voids ¨C the hallmarks of fractures are absent. I find only bruising here, no breaks to the structure.¡±


    ¡°And bleeding? Internal, I mean.¡±


    The healer inclined her head. ¡°Hmm. Were there ruptured vessels, the mana would stagnate completely. Here, it flows, however diminished. The swelling arises from strain alone, not internal bleeding.¡±


    The healer¡¯s smile as she looked up was probably one of the most reassuring things he¡¯d seen today. ¡°The finer structures remain sound. This confirms what I suspected ¨C the damage is superficial. Now, let us address these injuries.¡±


    The healer began her work. A blue glow graced her hands, warmth spreading into Cole¡¯s forearm as he turned to Fotham.. ¡°These Mimics ¨C I¡¯m guessing these demons are new, then?¡±


    Fotham sunk into his seat. He looked like he at least retained a modicum of composure, but Cole didn¡¯t need telepathy to know that he was dealing with the potential end of the world. ¡°Yes¡± was all he could say.


    ¡°Well, I sure am looking forward to a shapeshifter shanking me in my sleep.¡± Not the best thought, but hey, at least he could move his fingers now without a bombardment of static.


    His delivery also seemed to lighten Fotham¡¯s mood a bit. ¡°Ha! A fair concern, and one not without merit. Though perhaps... Such an illusion ¨C if indeed it is an illusion ¨C would demand a steady flow of magical energy to sustain. A costly trick, I¡¯d wager. Hmm...¡± He stood from his seat.


    ¡°What, you got something?¡± Cole exhaled through his teeth. Dr. Halloway¡¯s magic now had the tissue in his arm wriggling around, like a damn chestburster ready to pop out and say hi. As futile as ignoring it was, he tried anyway.


    ¡°Our nullification fields, yes. We use them to suppress magical interference.¡± Fotham motioned the bearded guard over. ¡°You there ¨C organize a team to fetch what nullifiers may be spared from the dungeons and laboratories. Test every soul in the castle, starting with those here in the infirmary.¡±


    The knight offered a shallow bow and moved to assemble others.


    Turning back to Cole, Fotham¡¯s tone softened, though his words retained their bite. ¡°Now, you¡¯ll remain here. This is now the most secure location at our disposal. And you... Well, you have the look of a man who¡¯s had sport enough for one night. I¡¯d not burden you further. Rest well; we shall discuss further on the morrow.¡±


    ¡°Yeap,¡± Cole winced as Dr. Halloway finally popped his shoulder back in.


    Fotham prepared to leave, but Ethan called out before he could take another step toward the door. ¡°Wait! We gotta grab what¡¯s left of our gear. If any of it survived.¡±


    ¡°Could use some of them rifles y¡¯all got, too,¡± Miles added. ¡°And them ear pros, while we¡¯re at it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it.¡±


    ¡°His Majesty approaches!¡± The call came from outside, followed by the sharp sound of boots hitting tile as guards rushed to position. The patrol outside the infirmary doors snapped to attention.


    King Armonde entered with his personal guard. Their brigandine wasn¡¯t the usual scaled armor Cole had seen on regular guards ¨C the scales had some iridescent sheen he hadn¡¯t seen before, reinforced with some silvery metal that was probably mithril or some other fancy fantasy material. High-end shit, undoubtedly. Wouldn¡¯t surprise him if those scales came from an actual dragon or something equally legendary.


    Fotham bowed deeply. ¡°Your Majesty, a most timely arrival. I believe I may have devised a means to unmask these infiltrators.¡± He relayed the same plan he¡¯d given the bearded guard.


    That got the king¡¯s attention real quick. ¡°Very well. See that it¡¯s done swiftly.¡±


    He turned his attention to Cole and his team as Fotham left. Despite sobering up a bit from his slumber, the half-elf king still looked like he¡¯d aged a decade since their first meeting, which couldn¡¯t have been more than what, twelve hours ago? ¡°Lieutenant, Sergeants. I¡¯m relieved to see you well after the recent incursion.¡±


    ¡°Could be worse. S¡¯pose we oughta be glad we ain¡¯t headin¡¯ out in body bags,¡± Miles said, deadpan. He didn¡¯t mince words ¨C not at all ¨C and Cole couldn¡¯t really blame him. At least his tone was polite enough to avoid trouble, if only just.


    Cole braced, but nothing happened. Of all the reactions he could¡¯ve expected, regret wasn¡¯t one of them. Accountability even less so. ¡°A tragedy, were it so. It was no failure of your own that placed you in such danger. You have my word on that.¡±


    Whether it came from genuine concern or just the cold calculus of keeping his best assets alive, at least the King gave enough of a shit to say it. Words were cheap, even sincere ones. But it was more than he expected.


    ¡°Though you were not yet sworn to the service of Celdorne, you fought as if you were,¡± Armonde continued. ¡°It is no small thing to rise so readily against an enemy that sought to unmake you ere you might render a decision. Few men would have done so, and for your valor, you have my deepest commendation.¡±


    Words like these were nothing new, or so Cole thought. Polished speeches from polished men, always meant to rile up a crowd, instill purpose; instill a sense of honor. But be it through authenticity or tact, the king¡¯s words somehow felt different.


    ¡°Though I cannot restore to you the night, I would extend to you the morrow. I will not intrude further, nor would I think ill should my kingdom¡¯s shortcomings weigh upon your thoughts. Rest, and be untroubled by imposition or demand.¡±


    Armonde turned to leave, but the truth was, Cole didn¡¯t need another night to think it over. At this point, Celdorne didn''t even need to sweet-talk them with a quid pro quo or burden them with unsettled debts.


    These demons had made it pretty damn clear what they thought of Earth¡¯s finest crashing their party. Honestly, it was pretty smart of them to try and eliminate the kingdom¡¯s heroes before they became a threat. Too bad all they¡¯d done was make it personal ¨C and now they¡¯d learn exactly why trying to kill them early was the right instinct.


    ¡°Your Majesty ¨C no need to wait ¡®til tomorrow. We¡¯re in.¡±

 Chapter 10: In The Bag

    Consciousness returned in stages ¨C first the phantom throbbing in his shoulder, then the realization that the sunlight hitting the far wall came from directly overhead. Shit, was it afternoon?


    Head was clearer than it had any right to be, though, given the doses of strange medicine the healers had given him. There was none of that post-morphine dissociative haze, no residual narcotic fog. Instead, Cole simply felt well-rested, with full awareness. Now, this part of Celdornian medicine he could get behind ¨C none of that horror show that came with watching flesh knit itself back together.


    He rubbed his eyes.


    The first face he registered was a pretty one ¨C though he still wasn¡¯t used to how elves made ¡®pretty¡¯ look almost alien. Nice way to wake up though, even if it was well past morning. There was something familiar about her though... right, Dr. Gracer from their arrival, Elina. Must¡¯ve taken over from Halloway after last night.


    She was bent over his arm, hands aglow with soft white light. ¡°Ah, Lieutenant Mercer, you¡¯re awake! How do you fare?¡±


    Cole tested his shoulder. It had a surprising range of motion. Still hurt a bit, but it was definitely more manageable compared to last night; maybe like the difference between a fresh injury and a week of proper rehab, somehow compressed into a few hours. ¡°Like a demon tried to tear off my arm. Better than it should be, though.¡±


    Elina smiled. ¡°Well, most who endure the misfortune of a demon¡¯s assault fare worse still. And though you¡¯re hardly in a position to attempt it at present, I must insist you refrain from any strenuous magic for the next several hours. You¡¯ve just recovered your mana; it wouldn¡¯t do to once more succumb to exhaustion.¡±


    ¡°Definitely ain¡¯t planning on it, Doc.¡± Cole shifted. He was gonna ask something since he was here... What was it? He¡¯d been meaning to since they first dropped off Mack ¨C ah! ¡°Say, uh... any sicknesses I should watch out for? Y¡¯know, being from somewhere completely different and all.¡±


    Elina tilted her head. ¡°Ah! You speak of foreign maladies. I assure you, there¡¯s no cause for concern. I¡¯ve not heard a story of any summoned hero suffering ill effects. Though, should you request it, I can continue to monitor you.¡±


    ¡°Shit, that¡¯s good to know. Yeah, I think we¡¯ll take you up on that offer. Anyway, what time is it?¡± Cole groaned.


    ¡°2 in the afternoon.¡±


    Strange how the similarities kept piling. Units of measurement, from feet to pounds, and now this? Well, he¡¯d probably get to the bottom of it one day. Cole set the thought aside and glanced at the stand beside him. The empty vial of blue liquid was probably the reason why his new organ didn¡¯t feel fucked; why his head felt clear.


    Across the room, Ethan was knocked out in his bed, clutching a pillow while mumbling something about Lizzie.


    Damn. Cole had almost forgotten ¨C not about being summoned; it was hard to forget that part ¨C but about what it really meant. Somewhere back home, Ethan¡¯s wife would be getting the full military widow treatment ¨C two Class-As on the doorstep with a chaplain in tow, one of those folded flags that made everything worse, followed by carefully curated words about duty and sacrifice. As if the right combo of ¡®honor¡¯ and ¡®service¡¯ and other platitudes could fill the hole left when learning her husband would never be coming back home.


    Macy would be getting the same notification, too. And Mom. And Dad. His little sister ¨C who¡¯d endured years of operational blackouts, clinging to stupid 3 AM meme texts just to know he was alive ¨C would find herself back in that familiar hell. And now Macy, of all people, would join that exclusive club nobody wanted membership in: uniformed strangers at the door, shattering her world with the news about her brother.


    Except he, Ethan, Miles, and Mack weren¡¯t actually dead; they¡¯d been saved by a miracle. Hell, Ethan was right here, alive and whole, murmuring his wife¡¯s name while sleeping off a night of keeping demons from murdering them in their beds. Then again, ¡®saved¡¯ was probably a semantic stretch when factoring in all the bullshit they¡¯d been through.


    And Miles? He probably had his own way of processing it all ¨C compartmentalization; flipping the switch. Pieces of his shotgun lay scattered across a white towel, glistening clean and free from demon blood. It was a common ritual ¨C one Cole had done himself a few times. If he just kept his hands busy, he wouldn¡¯t have to think about shit; just the next objective after the next.


    Miles fit the Delta paradigm well enough ¨C no wife to wait for him, no kid to bring him home, only an empty apartment and the ghost of a mother¡¯s prayers. He had his team, sure, but outside the missions? When the adrenaline faded and the silence crept in?


    Some men turned to God in those moments. Miles? He hadn¡¯t yet, but he probably should. The empty plate beside him said everything about how this was going. That kind of emptiness had an expiration date. As unsustainable as it was though, it did its job ¨C push through one more objective, zip past another hour without facing the void. And Cole¡¯s growling stomach did just that.


    But it was Elina¡¯s voice that truly pulled him back from the abyss. ¡°Famished, are you?¡± she asked with a smile. ¡°It was quite a night, or so I¡¯ve heard. Sit tight; I¡¯ll fetch something from the kitchens. Do you care for aught in particular?¡±


    ¡°Hmm...¡± Cole glanced at Miles¡¯ empty plate. ¡°Ay, Garrett! What¡¯d they hook you up with?¡±


    ¡°Standard breakfast. Somethin¡¯ damn close to a Waffle House All-Star: got the bacon, eggs, bread, sausages, some waffles, y¡¯know. And you ain¡¯t gonna believe this ¨C they got actual miso. Like, real, legit Japanese miso.¡±


    Picking one up, he unzipped the main compartment. Considering how these things usually functioned, he lowkey expected some kind of mindfucking pocket dimension inside. But no ¨C just regular organization: standard compartments, tough canvas dividers, slots stocked with vials of colored liquid, and other gear.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Miles asked, looking up from his own bag. ¡°Ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ else special to it?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. There is, of course, some modest weatherproofing and a simple protective barrier rune; hardly anything to set one¡¯s imagination alight. Were you expecting something a touch more... spatially intriguing?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, actually. Figured if you could negate weight, maybe you could bend space, too.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Enchantments for such a thing do exist, as it happens. The royal family possesses a few ¨C bags capable of holding far more than their size would imply. Some of our veteran Slayers carry similar equipment, as do a handful of the rather more... enterprising merchants ¨C those whose coffers rival even the Crown¡¯s. Frightfully costly, of course, and devilishly troublesome to maintain.¡±


    ¡°Artifacts, primarily.¡± Fotham lowered his voice a bit. ¡°Relics from the demon-infested wastes. Ancient and, I daresay, utterly incomprehensible to the likes of us. The truly ambitious merchants ¨C those whose coffers run deep enough ¨C coordinate with OTAC to fund expeditions into Istrayn in hopes of unearthing them. Most of those ventures end predictably: empty-handed... or entirely absent.¡±


    He hesitated before continuing, ¡°Though we did recover one rather remarkable piece. A satchel that simply... Well, it rather makes a mockery of what we thought possible with spatial enchantments. But such treasures remain precisely that ¨C treasures. These packs shall serve your immediate needs quite adequately.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s in them?¡± Cole pulled out a blue vial of liquid from the pack. ¡°This one¡¯s for mana, I¡¯m guessing?¡±


    Fotham nodded. ¡°Red for healing, green for stamina. The packs also contain uniforms, field kits, writing implements, maintenance kits for your rifles, bedroll, basic medical supplies ¨C should you lack a healer or potions ¨C and items for daily necessities.¡±


    ¡°Maps?¡± Miles asked, grabbing his original pack.


    ¡°Indeed. Though you¡¯ll require some instruction in our script first. As for your packs, they should afford sufficient space, should you wish to stow any of that peculiar equipment you¡¯ve brought along.¡±


    ¡°All our gear made it, ¡®cept what we used last night, thank Christ. Phones, NODs, IFAKs, them solar chargers...¡± Miles glanced at the broken AK sitting beside Cole¡¯s borrowed AKS. ¡°Well, most of our gear, anyway.¡±


    Losing the AK did hurt, but not a lot. Without access to 5.45 or the ability to make more, adopting Celdorne¡¯s weapons ¨C and possibly upgrading them ¨C seemed like a better play. ¡°Eh, not that it¡¯d be much useful outside of parts or reverse engineering. Ran dry.¡±


    Cole picked up a small container from within the pack and opened it ¨C neat rows of mana crystals, stored like batteries.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Fotham said, leaning, ¡°you¡¯ll seldom find need to replace them ¨C unless, of course, you¡¯ve designs on hoisting mountains. Even then, the drain is gradual enough to afford you ample warning.¡±


    ¡°What if it runs dry mid-fight? Switch to strengthening magic? Channel mana?¡± It sounded a bit stupid, considering it¡¯d be far more prudent to just... swap out the crystals once they get low, but curiosity had gotten the better of Cole.


    ¡°Channel mana.¡± Fotham¡¯s decisiveness was surprising. ¡°We¡¯ve tested this, in fact. The mana expended in either case is near equal, though channeling proves far simpler than fortifying the body ¨C unless, of course, the body is already fortified.¡±


    Cole nodded. ¡°So, when¡¯s our training start?¡±


    ¡°Training begins on the morrow,¡± Fotham replied, rubbing his eyes. ¡°I shall send Lady Verna from my office. She is most adept at teaching the fundamentals, and has oft worked with Director Fernal¡¯s office. As for the present...¡± He straightened slightly. ¡°Once you have eaten and rested ¨C and after Sergeant Walker wakes, Prime Minister Alrick wishes to discuss the particulars of your arrangement with the Kingdom: contracts, compensation, command structure ¨C the necessary formalities.¡±


    Elina returned, bringing with her a maid who pushed along a rolling cart.


    ¡°I shall leave you to your meal, then,¡± Fotham said, rising slowly. ¡°Take what rest you may. Someone will come to fetch you when the Prime Minister is prepared to receive you.¡±

 Chapter 11: Terms of Service

    ¡°Have I ever mentioned how much I seriously hate, loathe... disdain meetings?¡± Ethan grumbled as a guard led them through the halls.


    ¡°Well shoot, don¡¯t reckon I¡¯ve heard that one before.¡± Miles didn¡¯t even blink at Ethan¡¯s little comment. ¡°Maybe the hundredth time¡¯s the charm.¡±


    ¡°In that case... have I ever mentioned¨C¡±


    Miles cut him off with a smirk. ¡°Man, don¡¯t even start. Shit¡¯s gonna be annoying enough when we step inside.¡±


    Cole couldn¡¯t blame the guy. A decade-plus of briefings had taught him bureaucracy was bureaucracy, whether it came with stars, suits, or whatever passed for authority here. Of course, he always knew where he stood ¨C the boundaries between agencies, the pecking order, the whole dance.


    The only difference between the various agencies and leaders was how asinine they got about operational support. Different agencies, same half-assed bullshit: here¡¯s the target, intel might be good or might get you killed, figure it out yourself, and oh yeah we can''t give you the tools you actually need. At least here they¡¯d burned resources just getting his team on the ground.


    Granted, Delta opened doors that stayed shut for everyone else. Walking into a room with three different power structures, each with their own stake in how this played out ¨C it wasn¡¯t anything new, but now they were ¡®heroes.¡¯ What weight did that carry in a world desperate enough to summon them? Hopefully, a few more privileges than what they were afforded back home.


    ¡°Probably won¡¯t be too bad. I mean, hey, they need us. They need us badly ¨C I can tell, despite their offer of letting us play civvie,¡± Cole said. ¡°Hell, the King wouldn''t have shown up at our bedside otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Fair ¡®nuff,¡± Miles said.


    The guard murmured something to his counterpart at the chamber doors. A moment later, they entered to the herald''s announcement: ¡°Lieutenant Cole Mercer, Sergeant Miles Garrett, Sergeant Ethan Walker of the United States Army.¡±


    The herald paused, then gestured toward the four men seated together on one side of the rectangular table in the center of the room. ¡°At the head, The Right Honorable Alrick Varesset, Prime Minister of the Crown. To his right, Director-General Cullen Fernal of the Office of Threat Assessment and Control, Sir Fotham Fallamore of the Office of Thaumaturgy, and General Aldam Gallahad, Commander of His Majesty''s Armed Forces.¡±


    Three different agencies at one table ¨C four, if the Crown counted ¨C and not a hint of the usual territorial pissing. Who knew an existential threat could be such an effective antidote to bureaucratic infighting?


    ¡°Gentlemen. Please, take your seats,¡± the Prime Minister greeted them. ¡°I dare say your first evening in Celdorne proved rather more eventful than intended. Though, they have rather thoroughly validated His Majesty''s choice in summoning. The Crown now seeks to formalize your service to the Kingdom. We have prepared articles of service befitting your role as Slayers. The nature of your duties shall require proper accord between His Majesty''s forces and the Office of Threat Assessment and Control.¡±


    Alrick passed copies of the document to each of them. ¡°While your status as the Crown¡¯s chosen heroes afford certain privileges, I should articulate that it also carries obligation in equal measure.¡±


    He paused, turning to a man in another brigandine piece, but with a light mesh overlay on top. A bit overkill for a meeting, but not really out of place considering the recent incident. More interesting was the fact that this guy looked almost as clean as the mustachioed general beside him -- all except for one minor detail. Healing magic could get rid of scars, but apparently it couldn''t get rid of the tired stare behind his facade of composure; the eyebags borne of seeing shit no one should ever have to see. ¡°Director-General Fernal, if you would?¡±


    Cullen cleared his throat. ¡°Let¡¯s start with your compensation. Fifty crowns monthly. Each.¡± He paused, likely hoping the number would impress them ¨C fat chance when they had no frame of reference. It didn¡¯t take the Director-General long to read the room though. ¡°More than some regional merchants see in a month. But then... we expect more than what merchants deliver.¡±


    The fact that the man didn¡¯t say anything like ¡®local merchant¡¯ or ¡®village merchant¡¯ was telling enough. Definitely not East India Company levels of stacked, but regional merchants would still be running decent-sized operations between cities ¨C likely enough to live like whatever passed for multi-millionaires around here.


    Well, it was good to know they valued their demon hunters. Concerning to know just how much they thought they needed to, though. The rest of the package reflected that kind of commitment. r?


    Cullen moved down the document ¨C full medical care they¡¯d gotten a taste of already, a whole-ass house provided by OTAC upon completion of their training, and equipment privileges a notch below what Cole had seen on the King¡¯s personal guard. Not quite what he¡¯d been hoping for, but time and performance would get them better gear, he was sure of it. Those iridescent scales were already calling his name. Or... whatever he might find out in the field, apparently.


    ¡°Spoils rights?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes, the arrangement does include material considerations.¡± Cullen studied Cole, probably trying to gauge his reaction. ¡°Recovery rights. Salvage. You¡¯ll find our accounting methods most accommodating in that regard. Incentive, to put it lightly ¨C should the threat of extinction be insufficient.¡±


    Fotham had mentioned that before ¨C extinction. After last night, Cole had zero doubts about what that meant. All those anime shows, with their tragic misunderstood demon races looking for peace? Ain¡¯t no way could he reconcile that with a coordinated infiltration and assassination attempt.


    And if that¡¯s how Celdorne really felt, then the command structure that followed probably had some flexibility built in ¨C hush-hush concessions ¨C even if it looked rigid on paper. Celdorne¡¯s tech, or lack thereof, probably gave another point to that. No radios? No micromanagement. Hard to backseat drive when the higher-ups couldn¡¯t even reach the driver, after all.


    Though that cut both ways. No quick calls for support, no real-time coordination with other units, unless they somehow got pocket Scrying Panes sitting around. They¡¯d be truly operating independently, whether anyone liked it or not. Might even work in their favor ¨C nothing quite like comms limitations to force command to trust their judgement in the field.


    Still, the whole setup reeked of potential clusterfucks. If they had to work jointly with regular military units, then how? They¡¯d use... what, runners? Signal flags? Trying to navigate these clauses was challenging enough when Cole barely understood how OTAC or their Army functioned beyond basic organization ¨C or how their weapons felt.


    As lacking as his intel was, seeing their proposal was still helpful. They¡¯d sketched out some basics in preparation for this meeting back at the infirmary; now they had the actual terms to work with ¨C or around. Better to step aside, get their arguments straight, list out the changes they¡¯d need to implement.


    ¡°Prime Minister, Director-General. Would you mind if we took a few minutes to review these terms in detail?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the Prime Minister replied. ¡°Please, take whatever time you require. The antechamber through that door should serve adequately for your discussion.¡±


    Cole led the way into the other room, Miles and Ethan following. The door¡¯s solid thunk behind them would keep this private. And if the Celdornians could secretly listen in with magic, well, there was simply nothing they could do.


    Ethan got the first word in, of course. ¡°So, pay¡¯s solid, at least.¡±


    Cole put the document on a side table. ¡°Not that we know what a crown buys, exactly. But hey, regional merchant money is regional merchant money.¡±


    Cullen didn¡¯t blink, but he for sure knew what the repetition implied.


    But just in case he needed that extra push... ¡°Last night was a bit of a surprise. VIPs getting hit wasn¡¯t in anyone¡¯s playbook, but even despite that, we spotted the infiltration, pulled the defense together, and dropped the bastards. Hadn¡¯t even gotten the opportunity to learn any offensive magic, either.¡±


    ¡°A commendable effort,¡± Cullen admitted. ¡°But one engagement ¨C¡±


    Cole cut him off gently. ¡°Doesn¡¯t prove anything long-term, sure. But it builds precedence.¡± He navigated to the command structure and autonomy section in their proposal. ¡°Precedence, I¡¯m confident, that justify some adjustments to your terms.¡±


    Cullen leaned forward. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ¡°Simple structure. We¡¯ll agree to the standard privileges you¡¯ve outlined, expand after training¡¯s complete, then full autonomy ¨C or, at least, mounting autonomy after we earn some trust. Having a say in missions, mission parameters...¡±


    ¡°Yes, that is reasonable. I can grant your team certain flexibilities now, given recent events.¡± Cullen tapped his chin. ¡°We may revisit your privileges after each successful mission.¡±


    Good. They¡¯d had to do the same for Delta; only fair it was the same here. ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll be dealing with the standard metrics? Outcomes, how well we achieved them, losses, and so on?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± The single word carried finality.


    Cole glanced at his team. Satisfactory enough, based on their nods. ¡°Alright; I can agree to that. One condition, though: my team stays intact, and under my command.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but your team must evolve to meet its challenges. What say you, should we find compatible additions? Potions, after all, are no substitute to a skilled healer''s touch.¡±


    Cole paused. Yeah, Cullen got him there. Mack¡¯s condition already left enough of a hole in their composition. ¡°Compatible additions we¡¯ll consider; contingent on our approval. Splitting us up though? Not happening.¡±


    ¡°Acceptable.¡± Another response where the man didn¡¯t hesitate; probably expected this.


    A deeper voice interjected ¨C General Gallahad, speaking for the first time since the meeting started. ¡°And should you prove your worth to the Director-General, I''d be willing to grant similar considerations for operations with my forces. Lieutenant, you¡¯ve served in this ¡®United States Army¡¯ for some time, I expect?¡±


    ¡°Eight years,¡± Cole replied. ¡°Special operations, mostly.¡±


    ¡°Capital. Then you understand the coordination of disparate units.¡± The General¡¯s mustache twitched. ¡°I should be most pleased to hear how your forces manage such endeavors. No doubt you¡¯ve insights for us?¡±


    Smart guy. Cole¡¯s weapons alone probably told Gallahad everything he needed to know about where they came from ¨C a place centuries ahead in military development. No wonder he wanted to pick their brains about modern doctrine. ¡°Happy to share what I can, General.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Then we¡¯ll explore further once you¡¯ve completed your training with Sir Cullen¡¯s office.¡±


    ¡°If there are no other matters to address?¡± Alrick glanced around the table. ¡°Sir Fotham?¡±


    Fotham shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ve little say in the matter regardless, but yes, the terms are satisfactory thus far.¡±


    ¡°And our heroes?¡±


    ¡°Alright by me,¡± Ethan said.


    Miles¡¯ subsequent agreement was all Cole needed to finalize the deal. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re ready to sign off on it.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡± Alrick motioned to a scribe who¡¯d been quietly scratching away in the corner. ¡°The revised articles shall be prepared momentarily.¡±


    About ten minutes later, the scribe presented the stack of copies to Alrick. Cole reviewed his new copy ¨C everything seemed alright. He wasn¡¯t the best with this Founding Father-ass legalese, but the document was short enough that it¡¯d be impossible to miss a hidden clause.


    The Celdornians signed first, then passed it to Cole.


    He signed, then passed it to Miles and Ethan. Left a spot for Mack ¨C whenever he finally woke up.


    Alrick collected the signatures. ¡°We shall have these processed immediately. Good day, gentlemen.¡±


    That only left one last question. ¡°Director-General,¡± Cole turned to Cullen. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll need some time to conduct our internal review first; ensure the Office is free of infiltrators. In the meantime, I believe it prudent that you and your team learn basic elemental magic, as per Director Fallamore¡¯s recommendation.¡±

 Merry Christmas! Patreon Giveaway

    Hey everyone, thanks so much for supporting the book so far! I decided not to wait for the 5k follower thing to do the giveaway. A day late lol but better late than never amirite


    I''m gifting 100 free Tier 2 AE subscriptions on Patreon. No strings attached, just make an account and you''re good to go! It''s first come first serve. I think Patreon automatically tracks it for me.


    Also, it should automatically cancel so you don''t have to worry about getting charged or anything (but do double check, just to be sure)


    Miles checked his watch for about the tenth time since breakfast. ¡°First actual spells, huh?¡±


    Cole glanced over. Good to see the man excited about something ¨C anything. Nothing like new toys to get an operator¡¯s mind right and away from the reality of being tossed into another world.


    ¡°Betcha it¡¯s gonna be fire,¡± Ethan said, mirroring Miles. ¡°Fantasy shit always starts with fire.¡±


    Miles snorted. ¡°Hell, wouldn¡¯t shock me if they had us crunchin¡¯ numbers on specific heat or some shit.¡±

 Chapter 12: Fundamentals

    Miles checked his watch for about the tenth time since breakfast. ¡°First actual spells, huh?¡±


    Cole glanced over. Good to see the man excited about something ¨C anything. Nothing like new toys to get an operator¡¯s mind right and away from the reality of being tossed into another world.


    ¡°Betcha it¡¯s gonna be fire,¡± Ethan said, mirroring Miles. ¡°Fantasy shit always starts with fire.¡±


    Miles snorted. ¡°Hell, wouldn¡¯t shock me if they had us crunchin¡¯ numbers on specific heat or some shit.¡±


    Out of everyone, Mack would probably love this the most. But no point in saying that out loud. A simple ¡®yeah¡¯, a chuckle, and an external interruption worked wonders.


    A woman in her late twenties waltzed through the training hall¡¯s entrance ¨C pretty, with brunette curls matching the bounce of her steps. ¡°Good morning!¡± She greeted them with a warm smile. ¡°You must be the new Slayers ¨C Lieutenant Mercer, Sergeant Walker, and Sergeant Garrett, if I¡¯m not mistaken?¡±


    Cole nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. And you¡¯re Lady Verna?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, the very same!¡± Her personality seemed a bit more upbeat than what he¡¯d have expected, especially out of a Celdornian office. But hey, it could be fun.


    Verna approached them. ¡°I¡¯ve been most eager to make your acquaintance. Sir Fotham spoke in glowing terms of your barrier work on the day of your arrival. And then that dreadful business with the demons ¨C utterly extraordinary, having to face them on your very first night!¡± She leaned in, covering a part of her mouth with her hand. ¡°And then having to deal with the bureaucrats the very next day... Truly extraordinary indeed! How do you fare this morning?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re managing,¡± Cole admitted. ¡°Can¡¯t get any worse than rock bottom, eh? Think we¡¯re all ready to learn something a bit more offensive than barriers, though.¡±


    ¡°A touch of restlessness already, I see.¡± She grinned. ¡°Well, I suppose I can¡¯t fault you for that. But do not be so hasty to dismiss barriers ¨C they¡¯re one of the most versatile conjurations.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, can¡¯t lie, they sure as hell saved our asses,¡± Miles said.


    Verna sat on a nearby table. ¡°And how fares your companion?¡±


    ¡°Safe and sound, ¡®lethargy¡¯ aside,¡± Ethan sighed. ¡°Least he¡¯s stable, I guess.¡±


    ¡°That is heartening to hear. The healers here are exemplary in their craft ¨C he shall be quite himself before long, I am sure.¡± She took in the room, eyes settling on the tables behind them. ¡°Now then, as you¡¯ve already demonstrated remarkable aptitude with barrier magic, Sir Fotham deemed it appropriate you expand your options. ¡®Something a bit more offensive than barriers,¡¯ yes?¡±


    Cole followed her as she got up from the table.


    ¡°Just here by the basins, if you please. We shall begin with temperature manipulation.¡±


    ¡°Starting slow, then?¡± Ethan asked.


    ¡°Quite so ¨C one cannot have the castle reduced to ash, after all.¡± She brought them to a group of unadorned metal basins arranged atop a table, each brimming with clear water.


    Verna rolled up her sleeve. Her tone shifted ever so slightly as she started their little lecture. ¡°Now then, let us address the fundamental principles of heat. Am I correct in assuming you are acquainted with its natural tendencies ¨C how it seeks to equalize disparities between warm and cool bodies?¡±


    Cole recognized it: basic thermodynamics. ¡°Yeah, pretty much.¡±


    She dipped her hand into the basin. ¡°Good. Touch the water. Do you feel it? The chill?¡±


    Cole submerged his hand. ¡®Chill¡¯ was probably the understatement of the year; the water was fucking cold; freezing. Almost reminded him of the good ol¡¯ days of Arctic warfare training, or when he lost a bet and jumped into that ice bath. R


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Verna continued, ¡°That is the warmth of your body seeking escape, eager to lend itself to the water. Now, focus. You should feel yet another warmth, distinct from the heat of your own flesh.¡±


    The contrast was immediately apparent. The sensation in his hand revealed two distinct feelings, sure enough: the chill of the water and that familiar warmth of mana flowing through his system.


    ¡°Consider heat as though it were a fluid ¨C one which instinctively flows from the warmer object to the cooler. The more energy you impart, the greater this caloric fluid will move through the water.¡±


    Caloric fluid? That was a new one. Though treating heat transfer like a fluid wasn¡¯t far off ¨C it was just energy moving through the medium. But temperature manipulation didn¡¯t transfer bodily heat; if that were the case, anyone performing ice or fire magic would straight up die. So... how?


    Verna lifted her hand, water slipping from her fingers. Then, without a gesture or a word, the droplets began to steam. Thin wisps curled upward like it was the most natural thing in the world ¨C though it probably was, at least, here in Tenria.


    Cole¡¯s first attempt with the dome came naturally ¨C after watching enough waterbending, the visualization was second nature. The dome formed smoothly, and what little he knew about fluids helped him keep the form stable.


    ¡°How about this?¡± Verna directed a stream upward and around her body, the water flowing like one of those gymnast ribbons dancing through the air.


    Miles whistled as his water stream twisted through the air. ¡°Shit¡¯s wild.¡± His grin said it all. Cole hadn¡¯t seen him this pumped since they¡¯d gotten those new NODs.


    Cole found this even easier than the dome. Of course, he couldn¡¯t imagine the pressure gradients and velocity vectors like his brain was some MATLAB program, but experience with scuba and pipes rendered the physics familiar enough. The principles were second nature to him and his team; they knew the underlying mechanics of why things worked ¨C far better than anyone in Celdorne or even the whole of Tenria, most likely.


    ¡°And, as you might expect,¡± she said, eyes lighting up, ¡°the same principle applies in reverse. Rather than adding energy to encourage steam, we draw it away to invite the water to crystallize.¡± At her touch, the surface crystallized into ice.


    ¡°Now that¡¯s just showing off,¡± Ethan said, despite his ice coming out just as clean.


    Cole had seen enough freeze-thaw cycles fuck up pipelines to understand exactly how water behaved during phase changes. His attempt created ice just as clear, all the cloudy shit from trapped air bubbles absent from his basin.


    ¡°Why, I must say I¡¯m rather glad to have happened upon such talent.¡± Verna¡¯s dramatic gesture at the ice had to be at least half-genuine. ¡°Some Slayers I¡¯ve had the displeasure of working with have spent weeks just trying to manage a frost!¡±


    Miles carved a small castle out of his ice. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to disappoint, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Disappoint? My dear Sergeant, should this be disappointment, I must declare myself eager for more,¡± Verna said, amused. Yeah, she was definitely enjoying herself, though it wasn¡¯t like Miles minded; he was smirking right back.


    ¡°Though,¡± she continued, ¡°perhaps I ought not to praise you too highly just yet. Let¡¯s see how you fare with air and earth, shall we?¡±


    She brought them over to the wind chimes and flags from earlier. ¡°It may seem elusive, being unseen to the eye. Yet surely you are acquainted with the marvels of steam? How it propels pistons forth and draws them back again, powering mighty machines with naught but its breath?¡±


    Steam power... interesting. Gas was just another fluid ¨C hell, steam engines were basically practical demonstrations of the ideal gas law. Just how much did they know? ¡°Like... trains?¡± Cole probed.


    ¡°Ah, yes! Precisely so; steam harnessed to serve our will. Air and wind magic follow much the same principle.¡± She raised her hand toward the wind chimes, and a gentle breeze sent them tinkling. ¡°A visual guide oft proves helpful. I shall summon some steam to¨C¡±


    She paused as the wind chimes sang again, but not from her magic. Apparently Miles had already created his own current, sending a soft gust of wind over their heads. Pretty damn impressive control for a first try, though maybe Cole shouldn¡¯t be so surprised.


    ¡°I¨C well!¡± Verna smiled. ¡°That¡¯s rather unprecedented.¡±


    Cole created his own breeze. Simple enough visualization; no need to overcomplicate basic fluids. Ethan¡¯s gust picked up stronger than his, sending the flags fluttering. Must¡¯ve been thinking industrial scale rather than residential.


    Verna scratched her head, standing speechless for a moment. ¡°Well. Eager for more, then. Let us see how you fare with earth.¡±


    She brought them outside to the training yard, the bare soil seeming perfect for whatever she had in mind. ¡°Earth differs greatly from the other elements. Where water yields and air scatters, earth is resolute; it clings to its nature with remarkable obstinacy.¡±


    Earthbending 101: dirt and rock were stubborn ¨C that much was obvious. He¡¯d dug enough holes to know exactly how tough it could be. Though watching Verna shape a perfect sphere of soil mid-air suggested there were better ways than grappling with a shovel.


    ¡°Watch carefully.¡± Verna reached out, willing the soil to form a small column. ¡°Start small.¡±


    Cole focused on the ground. Start small ¨C just like she said. He pictured lifting the dirt like he was shoveling, but without the shovel. Break, then lift. The soil separated with a thought, about a cup¡¯s worth coming up.


    ¡°Lady Verna?¡±


    Some aide approached across the yard ¨C Fotham¡¯s office, according to that uniform. ¡°Might I have a moment of your time?¡±


    She stepped aside with the aide. Their conversation lasted barely a few seconds.


    ¡°Well!¡± Verna turned back. ¡°It seems our lessons are to continue for some weeks yet. Sir Cullen¡¯s office finds itself rather in want of hands, and so... I daresay we shall dedicate the coming days to refining these fundamentals ¨C getting you quite at ease with the elements.¡± With a possibly magical flick of her wrist, the dirt vanished from her hands. ¡°Next week we shall venture into proper spellcasting.¡±


    Ethan perked up at that. ¡°Combat techniques?¡±


    ¡°Indeed! But let us first master lifting dirt before we aspire to hurling pillars of stone at demons, hmm?¡±

 Chapter 13: Awakening

    After a few days of practice, magic had become almost routine. Granted, directing the elements with pure thought still felt pretty surreal.


    Verna had them lined up for progress demonstrations, but they all knew it was just a formality. They¡¯d caught the hang of it by day 2, and while the practice did get monotonous, at least it was legit magic. Besides, rushing fundamentals never ended well.


    A tea service waited on one of the training room tables. ¡°Right then!¡± Verna moved to it. ¡°Let¡¯s start with something proper. I¡¯ve various teas for you here. Telsur, steeped at one-hundred sixty degrees Fahrenheit; marreth, best at one-eighty; and lastly,¡± she set down the last cup, ¡°rennes at two-hundred twenty. Mind the temperatures, for there¡¯s naught worse than ruining a fine tea by carelessness.¡±


    Cole figured Verna would test them somehow, but this definitely wasn¡¯t what he expected. Tea, of all things. Something about getting judged on proper brewing made all that practice feel inadequate.


    Might as well get on with it. He started with the telsur, amping up the temperature the same way he¡¯d do it on a stove. Of course he had to get stuck with the hardest to discern ¨C trying to hit that sweet spot between warm tap water and a boil was quite a pain in the ass. But he managed.


    Verna lifted the cup and took a careful sip. ¡°Perfect! Sergeant Walker?¡±


    Ethan crushed the marreth test, like his dormant British genes finally woke up for something. Verna¡¯s nod said it all.


    Miles drew the rennes ¨C lucky bastard just had to crank it up to boiling. No finesse required; just heat till the bubbles hit.


    Verna gathered the cups. ¡°Right then. Let¡¯s move on.¡±


    Water was next on the menu, and the task was simple enough: manipulate the water in some bowls and show they know how to shift between states of matter. Water to ice, then ice to steam, then everything back to liquid.


    Cole didn¡¯t need a formal test to know he could do this, but here he was, staring down a basin of water. The visualization was pretty easy; just an extension of the temperature exercise they did earlier. The only tricky part would¡¯ve been the manipulation of the water itself, but Verna had probably seen enough of their party tricks the past few days. The liquid spiraled up, freezing into a statue before discombobulating into steam. A little condensation and it rained right back into the basin.


    It wasn¡¯t the most exciting thing, but then again, neither was the important task of loading a magazine.


    The next test was a series of hoops filled with faint smoke drifting through the air. All they had to do was guide the smoke through the hoops without spilling a wisp.


    Cole pictured the air currents like flow lines in a wind tunnel, then pushed with his mana to make them real, and voila. The smoke followed the path he carved, zipping through the obstacle course cleanly.


    ¡°Man,¡± Miles muttered from somewhere to his right, rueful as shit.


    Cole knew that tone ¨C new toys, old problems. After all those times eating sand in the field, being able to just push particulates around at will almost felt like cheating. And earth magic wasn¡¯t much different.


    Once Verna had approved Miles and Ethan¡¯s attempts, she had them raise a pillar, then dig a ditch.


    Cole crouched, placing a hand on the soil. The pillar rose steadily, stopping just shy of the marker. Without pause, he carved a clean trench alongside it. Easy, but damn if it didn''t leave him jealous. If they¡¯d had magic like this back home, half the shit they did might¡¯ve taken minutes instead of hours. No more shoveling foxholes, stacking sandbags, or waiting on engineers to haul out HESCO.


    It didn¡¯t scream battlefield glamor, but it was the kind of thing that made life a hell of a lot easier. Not that it was any news to him. Shonen fanboys always got hung up on the flashy stuff ¨C fireballs, lightning bolts, et cetera. They¡¯d gobble up fights but call something as great as Frieren boring, like they couldn¡¯t wrap their heads around the idea that magic wasn¡¯t just about the explosions and OP shit.


    This, on the other hand, was what made it truly powerful. Hell, Ethan was already getting a hard-on over his new ability to shape terrain at a whim.


    ¡°That will do. Now... offense.¡± A prideful smirk grew on her face. She sounded like she¡¯d been waiting to get to this part. Well, they all did.


    The earth restored itself without even a lifted finger as Verna walked past, bringing them to a section of yard where someone had set up earthen targets on stone stands. ¡°Offensive magic offers myriad approaches, but we shall begin with the essentials. Given your admirable progress thus far, I suspect we shan''t tarry overlong!¡± No?v(el)B\\jnn


    A small flame sparked in her palm. Nothing fancy at first ¨C just enough to light a smoke. Then it grew and condensed into a tight sphere: a fireball.


    She launched it. Unlike the glorious weapons of mass destruction fantasy media always painted these out to be, this fireball started to fizzle out en route to the target. The final product that actually made impact was a shadow of its former self, leaving barely a scorch mark on the clay target.


    He got it by the third attempt, though. Not his best, but at least he could gloat about it to Ethan and Miles who took five each to get it right.


    Adding the barrier was easier. It was just like treating the interior as an engine¡¯s combustion chamber ¨C strong enough to contain the pressure but sized correctly to allow the reactions to take place.


    Suboptimal at first, but still functional. Eyeballing it was tough, but it only took a few tweaks to get the compression right. Within minutes they were launching fireballs that hit just as hard as Verna¡¯s demonstration.


    She clapped her hands. ¡°Defying all precedents again, I see. Though... I suspect I ought not to be astonished any longer.¡±


    Cole smiled. Hopefully they¡¯d be able to keep this up. ¡°Guess that means we¡¯re ready for what¡¯s next, then?¡±


    ¡°More than ready,¡± Verna said. ¡°Though perhaps we ought to start with something properly simple: fog. You might find it rather interesting.¡±


    The air shimmered around her hand. Steam was familiar territory by now; Cole had done enough practice to recognize that initial gathering of vapor. His usually spread out like bathroom fog, filling whatever space it had ¨C which meant disappearing into the large ass training room or blending into the surrounding atmosphere outside. Hers didn¡¯t. Instead, it engulfed their immediate surroundings without losing consistency.


    The mist drew itself tight, probably dense enough to eat radio signals. It turned into that perfect, unnatural white that made everything past five feet look like an old photograph. Real unsettling, but otherwise fine as long as a pyramid didn¡¯t jump at him.


    It made his work with steam look almost amateur in comparison, but he¡¯d gladly take the blow to his pride. This mist had a ton of utility; it functioned less like the wispy shit from actual smokescreens, and more like Call of Duty smoke that actually blocked line of sight.


    The mist dissipated just seconds after, and she moved on to her next spell. ¡°Now, mud.¡±


    A patch of ground beside them cracked as she set aside a square for demonstration. Water seemed to well up from within the soil itself, like a spring but everywhere at once. The dry earth turned into mud in just seconds.


    More water pushed up through the mixture, turning it into a slurry before it suddenly subsided, slightly solidifying the mud. This was the type of shit that would make the Vietcong weep with joy. Perfect consistency, on demand, anywhere it was needed. No digging or hoses required.


    Wasn¡¯t as conventionally ¡®cool¡¯ as the fireball spectacle earlier, but it sure as hell beat it in utility.


    ¡°Which would you prefer to ¨C¡± Verna began, but the door beside them crashed open.


    Elina burst out onto the yard, barely dodging the patch of mud. The grin on her face said everything. ¡°He¡¯s awake.¡±


    Cole¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He damn near broke into a grin himself. Miles and Ethan looked about the same ¨C faces screaming a mix of ¡®holy shit¡¯ and ¡®no fucking way¡¯. They didn¡¯t need clarification on who ¡®he¡¯ was, and they all trusted Elina. But they needed to see with their own eyes first.


    They sprinted through the castle¡¯s halls, leaving Elina and Verna behind. Cole¡¯s heart pounded, and not just from the running. Didn¡¯t Elina say several weeks to a month? They¡¯ve been here just under two weeks and Mack was already awake.


    What, was Celdorne¡¯s medical practices really just that good? Or maybe Mack was too stubborn to stay down as long as they¡¯d thought. Probably both.


    They rounded the final corner. The door was open. And there he was ¨C Mack, propped up against his pillows. He looked like absolute dogshit, but he was very much conscious and awake. Eyes open, and having a conversation with a nurse.


    Mack caught their entrance. ¡°Ay, y¡¯all not gonna believe what they just told me.¡±


    The words came out rough and raspy as hell, but they were his. Actually his, not just Cole¡¯s memory of them. Fuck, he hadn¡¯t realized how much he¡¯d started to forget what Mack¡¯s voice sounded like.


    ¡°Jesus,¡± Cole broke out into a grin. ¡°Sleeping Beauty¡¯s finally awake.¡±


    ¡°The one and only,¡± Mack said. ¡°Wait, you better not tell me I¡¯ve gotta thank you for the kiss.¡±

 Chapter 14: Reunion

    ¡°Wait, you better not tell me I¡¯ve gotta thank you for the kiss.¡±


    Almost two weeks of silence, and the second thing out of his mouth was giving them shit. Cole grinned. ¡°Hell no, we drew straws and Miles lost ¨C poor bastard.¡±


    ¡°Lost?¡± Miles shook his head with a devious chuckle. ¡°I personally reckon it¡¯s more like won. Full Diddy, no pause.¡± He sat down beside Mack and gave him a good-natured shove on the shoulder. ¡°For real though, it¡¯s damn good to see you up an¡¯ kickin¡¯.¡±


    Ethan stepped forward and clasped the man¡¯s hand. For a moment his smile didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes ¨C that same look whenever he thought about his family back home; that facade of a smile that often accompanied funerals. But he caught himself and got it right for Mack. ¡°Glad you¡¯re awake, man.¡±


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ A, bro.¡± Mack¡¯s voice was rough but the relief was clear. ¡°Been hearing voices for... shit, I don¡¯t even know how long. Good to actually see y¡¯all too.¡±


    He glanced around the room, finally recognizing the glowing runes on the walls and the magic AC units strewn throughout. ¡°But uh... you seein¡¯ this shit? Tell me I¡¯m not dreaming right now. One of the docs told me we¡¯re in some Kingdom of Celdorne, and that I¡¯m a... a hero?¡±


    Mack looked between them. He brightened up a bit, despite how much he looked like shit. ¡°This an isekai?¡±


    Cole nodded. ¡°Sure is.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± A grin started to spread on Mack¡¯s face, then caught halfway as he laid eyes on Ethan. Hell of a juxtaposition ¨C Ethan forcing a smile to reach his eyes while Mack couldn¡¯t keep his smile from showing in them. ¡°How long has it been?¡±


    ¡°¡®Bout twelve days,¡± Miles said. ¡°Most of that spent waitin¡¯ on your ass to wake up.¡±


    ¡°Well, and learning some new tricks.¡± Ethan raised his hand. A small flame sparked to life above his palm.


    Mack stared at it, mouth hanging wide open. ¡°No fucking way.¡± He tried to push himself up for a better look, grimaced. ¡°You can do all that?¡±


    ¡°All that and then some.¡± Cole could hardly help the smug pride leaking through his voice. ¡°Basic elements ¨C the Avatar kind ¨C barriers, strengthening magic. Apparently it¡¯s anything we can picture. Like that hyperphantasia thing you told me about.¡±


    ¡°You mean I could¨C?¡± Mack didn¡¯t even finish the thought. He glanced at Ethan before tempering his response. ¡°That¡¯s... kinda insane.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Cole nodded. ¡°Once you¡¯re back on your feet. Apparently we all have the capacity for it ¨C something about the summoning ritual modifying our biology.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°We all got a new organ,¡± Ethan offered with a more genuine smile this time. ¡°Mana gland. Insane shit, gotta admit. Produces and stores mana, supposedly. And let¡¯s us do shit the ¡®magicians¡¯ in Vegas wished they could do.¡±


    ¡°Holy shit. Damn. That¡¯s fuckin¡¯... Uh, surely there¡¯s a catch to that, though, right?¡± Mack was clearly holding back his inner nerd for Ethan¡¯s sake. ¡°One of the docs told me we¡¯re here to play hero. Fill me in, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Well, ya ain¡¯t wrong ¡®bout the catch.¡± Miles shifted forward. ¡°Take a look out that window. Damn purdy sight, ain¡¯t it? Alexandria, capital of Celdorne. ¡®Parently they got themselves a demon problem ¨C like, big bad Demon Lord fixin¡¯ to come through in the next few years. Real Sauron type shit. And that¡¯s where we come in.¡±


    ¡°Classic ¡®defeat the Demon Lord¡¯, huh? Never thought I¡¯d see the day.¡±


    ¡°Almost didn¡¯t,¡± Miles said. ¡°They had their pick: some Jap kid with some time manipulation ¡®Talent¡¯, some fancy bookworm from a whole other damn world, few others too. Lucky for us, they picked right. Otherwise? Hell, we¡¯d still be in Khaldat, bleedin¡¯ out in the dirt.¡±


    ¡°Turned out they picked righter than we knew,¡± Ethan chuckled. ¡°Buncha demons tried to take us out in our sleep ¨C day fucking one, mind you. Don¡¯t think that Jap kid would¡¯ve survived that one. Sure as hell bet that scholar wouldn¡¯t have.¡±


    ¡°Demons? On day one?¡± Mack asked. Cole had the exact same reaction when they came knocking on his door. ¡°Thought you said it was still a few years before the Demon Lord arrived?¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± Miles barked out a laugh. ¡°Wish it were the case. Turns out they ain¡¯t waitin¡¯ for their boss. Or their boss came early. Either way, these weren¡¯t even normal demons neither ¨C not accordin¡¯ to the locals. New type. Mimics. Look just like human ¡®til ya kill ¡®em. Hit us up at midnight, playin¡¯ knight. Almost had us too.¡±


    Cole frowned. The memory wasn¡¯t exactly pleasant ¨C most certainly not the part when he got grabbed like he dropped the soap. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯d set up for them, fatal funnel. Not very fatal when you¡¯re fighting, uh, those big guys from Resident Evil.¡±


    ¡°Tyrants?¡± Mack offered.


    ¡°Yeah, Tyrants. Bastards soaked up 5.45 like nothing,¡± Cole continued. ¡°It took damn near everything we had. Had to mag dump for a single kill. Managed to kill half of them before the Kingdom¡¯s guys finally showed up.¡± ?a¦­??E?S


    ¡°So what happened after that?¡±


    ¡°Well, before that ¨C when we first got here, King gave us three options,¡± Cole said. ¡°Return to our moment of impending doom in Jadira, live as normal citizens here, or sign on as their heroes. After that night with the demons? Pretty easy call, all things considered. We went through negotiations a few days ago. Told ¡®em it was pending until you accepted it, though.¡±


    Mack inclined his chin, then shrugged. ¡°Probably would¡¯ve anyway. What¡¯d they agree to hook us up with?¡±


    ¡°Just a single spark. Picture warmth gathering in ¨C¡± Verna started, but a small flame blooming above Mack¡¯s palm cut her off.


    ¡°How the hell?¡± Ethan stepped closer. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I did.¡±


    Mack grinned, nodding.


    Talk about getting outdone. Ethan wasn¡¯t alone in the shock. ¡°You just... picked it up from watching?¡± Cole asked.


    The flame winked out as Mack sagged back. ¡°Seemed straightforward enough.¡± A nonchalant answer; deliberate ¨C definitely to rub it in, if that smirk on his face was anything to go by.


    Verna looked between them. ¡°You¡¯ve already demonstrated the technique?¡±


    ¡°Just a small example earlier,¡± Ethan explained. ¡°Literally just did this,¡± he said, spawning a small flame. ¡°Wasn¡¯t even trying to teach.¡±


    ¡°Well then.¡± Verna wore the expression of a chess master watching a toddler call checkmate. Then, just as quickly, it shifted to one of genuine amazement. ¡°To replicate magic perfectly just from seeing it once...¡± She paused, then held up her hand.


    A small crystal of ice formed above her palm. ¡°Perhaps... might you try this as well?¡±


    Mack concentrated on the crystal. Barely a second later, a similar piece of ice formed above his hand.


    He let it dissipate immediately, taking heavy breaths. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s... yeah, I think that¡¯s enough.¡±


    Cole placed a hand on Mack¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Yeah, should probably chill out on the magic, then. We¡¯ll come visit, read you a bedtime story.¡±


    ¡°They at least got anything good?¡±


    ¡°Well... we¡¯re still on uh... children¡¯s books.¡± Cole let his voice trail off.


    ¡°We? Who¡¯s we?¡± Miles chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m already on the damn editorials. Y¡¯all¡¯re still soundin¡¯ out the letters.¡±


    Cole rolled his eyes. ¡°Can you actually understand what the papers are saying?¡±


    ¡°Uh...¡±


    Ethan laughed. ¡°On the bright side, the language is more like picking up a European language rather than trying to figure out Farsi. It¡¯s got an alphabet, letters, and it¡¯s got English construction. No weird syntax order, no logographic shit like in Mandarin. Easy to learn.¡±


    ¡°Huh, alright.¡± Mack¡¯s stomach growled.


    ¡°Oh, yeah. By the way,¡± Cole remembered, ¡°they got legit miso here. And a straight up Grand Slam, like from Denny¡¯s. Shit¡¯s good.¡±


    Mack raised an eyebrow.


    Miles shrugged. ¡°Couldn¡¯t believe it neither. Reckon one of them heroes must¡¯ve been Japanese. Brought it all over ¨C soy sauce, tempura, miso, green tea, the works. Hell of a job, too. Tastes like the real deal.¡±


    But Cole knew it didn¡¯t end there. Whoever brought Japanese food over wasn¡¯t alone. Apparently, dozens of heroes had been summoned before they got dragged over ¨C all from different time periods, including Celdorne¡¯s founder. Though, that wasn¡¯t really much of a surprise given the imperial measurements and penchant for tea.


    ¡°Hell of a legacy,¡± Cole said. ¡°One guy introduces a whole new cuisine. You know they probably learned a bunch of other stuff too.¡± The city outside drew his attention. ¡°Civil planning, engineering, science, medicine...¡±


    He then glanced at Elina. ¡°Actually, that reminds me. When you¡¯re feeling up to it, Mack, you should write down everything you can remember. Especially about medicine and biology. Between that and what we know about guns, engineering, tactics ¨C could make a real difference here.¡±


    Elina straightened. ¡°I would be most interested in comparing your methods with ours, Sergeant.¡±


    Mack¡¯s stomach chose that moment to rumble again.


    ¡°Food first though,¡± Cole grinned. ¡°Wish I could recommend the breakfast combo, but you know how it is. Plain sandwiches and shit.¡±


    No doubt Mack was well aware of the procedure behind coma recovery, but it didn¡¯t stop him from being utterly devastated. ¡°Yeah... fuck.¡±

 Chapter 15: Warren Graves

    three weeks into their new life in celdorne, and it had been nothing but acclimating ¨C the fantasy dream curdled into pure tedium. no adventures, no elf waifus, and definitely no freedom. hell, they couldn¡¯t even get time to leave the castle and explore!


    all those grand expectations, subverted to hell and back. and here they were, getting steamrolled under the weight of cram sessions, like it was finals week all over again. if this wasn¡¯t disillusionment, what was?


    but finally, they¡¯d been blessed with a glimmer of hope: an intermediate evaluation from a slayer, dropping by unannounced. cole hadn¡¯t heard news until now, but apparently otac had finished their internal review and cleared them for integration. about damn time.


    word around the castle was that otac had found more mimics than expected during their sweep. most happened to be in the lower ranks and the relatively unimportant logistics roles ¨C no offense to anyone in that field. recruits, maintenance crews, haulers ¨C predictable targets: easy to infiltrate and often overlooked.


    but some had wormed their way up the ladder. some had served as slayers for a few years now, and one had even managed to secure a captain¡¯s role. nothing higher up, thank god, but still... no wonder the review had taken forever.


    their evaluator was even more proof of just how serious otac was taking this. built like the damn hulk, there was something about the man that cole couldn¡¯t put his finger on. most operators he knew carried a certain weight ¨C the shit they¡¯d seen, the shit they¡¯d done ¨C like a shadow that never left. but not this guy.


    he didn¡¯t seem weighed down by anything. his eyes weren¡¯t hard or haunted, but steady. like he¡¯d made peace with it all. like a pastor who¡¯d traded his bible for a sword and never looked back. no, that wasn¡¯t right. more like... a pastor who carried both bible and sword ¨C and wielded them with the same conviction.


    ¡°sir warren graves,¡± he introduced himself as he walked into the library, ¡°slayer elite of the office of threat assessment and control. however, you may simply call me graves. the crown has chosen to place its faith in you. i am here to see that faith justified.¡±


    graves... an interesting name, cole had to admit. they stood up.


    the man looked at each of them in turn. ¡°lieutenant mercer. sergeant macpherson. sergeant garrett. sergeant walker. i trust i¡¯ve not erred.¡±


    ¡°that¡¯s us,¡± cole said. of course, their actual ranks ¨C sergeant first class, sergeant major, and master sergeant respectively ¨C meant something to them even if they¡¯d taken to simplifying it for the locals.


    warren gave a simple nod. ¡°please, be seated.¡±


    as they sat back down, he walked over to a shelf and picked out a book. ¡°lady verna has prepared you as best she can,¡± warren said, returning to them. ¡°i shall witness your progress ere your induction among our number. we shall begin here before proceeding to the training hall.¡±


    he opened to a marked page and set it before miles. ¡°sergeant garrett. if you would read aloud the account of our kingdom¡¯s founding.¡±


    miles took the book with a grimace. cole fought back a smirk. all that bragging about editorials was about to bite him in the ass. time to see if he was simply bullshitting, or if he was actually legit about his progress.


    miles cleared his throat and started reading. his texan drawl did interesting things to the stuffy historical language:


    ¡°thus did alexander celdor, in the year three hundred and three of the... sundered era, having driven back the demons at great cost, establish our sovereign realm upon these...¡± his eyes narrowed slightly, ¡°...verdant shores. for in his wisdom, gained through bitter contest against the infernal legions, he foresaw that the istraynian wastes would ever remain a wellspring of demonic corruption, from whence fresh horrors might emerge to plague mankind anew.¡±


    cole had to raise an eyebrow, reading over miles¡¯ shoulder. so it seems he wasn¡¯t just talking shit after all. he did have a couple rough patches here and there, but nothing that simple context clues couldn¡¯t solve.


    then came his turn. cole picked up where miles left off. ¡°whereupon he gathered his most steadfast soldiers, those who had proven their worth against the fourth tide, and there upon the cliffs overlooking what would become alexandria, he laid the foundation of our kingdom. ¡®let this land,¡¯ spoke he, ¡®stand as an eternal... vigilance against the darkness. not by strength of arms alone shall we prevail, but by the steadfast resolve of common men who choose to stand their ground.¡¯¡±


    warren¡¯s congratulation came in the form of just a nod ¨C passable. not much, but it¡¯d do. after just a day of miles¡¯ smug ass waving those newspapers around while the rest of them were still stuck on kids¡¯ fairy tales, cole had practically lived in the library. it was worth every minute of it now.


    ethan hadn''t done too bad either. probably got just as sick of miles¡¯ newspaper routine as he had.


    ¡°¡®i must here set down a truth most remarkable,¡¯¡± ethan read, ¡°¡®for i have witnessed what learned men would scarce credit ¨C that our greatest victories were not won by those blessed with heaven¡¯s gift, but by common men, who, when confronted with horrors beyond mortal ken, chose to stand fast though every fiber of their being cried out for flight.¡¯¡±


    mack had shown them all up though ¨C caught up completely. guess there wasn¡¯t much else to do stuck in that infirmary bed besides read. he wrapped up the account from alexander celdor, even tossing in a bit of regal voice acting. ¡°¡®though a hero¡¯s might may fell demons, it is the common soldier¡¯s resolve ¨C to stand steadfast before terrors that should shatter any mortal¡¯s spirit ¨C that truly turns the tide. for what demon can fathom such conviction? what force of hell can break the will of men who stand not for glory nor reward, nor even for their own survival, but because they know that if they do not, none shall?¡¯¡±


    if warren was impressed, he didn¡¯t show it. he simply moved on and pulled out several sheets of paper and placed them on the table. ¡°simple phrases. market prices, travel directions, and the like. the essentials.¡±


    cole couldn¡¯t be more ready. neither could the others; even if they didn¡¯t know the words, the language was essentially just english but with different letters. they¡¯d gotten the sounds down, so they could pretty much write whatever warren dictated.


    son of a bitch. cole could recognize that move anywhere. it was straight out of their late-night yap session about modernizing verna¡¯s spell! mack had actually taken their shop talk and turned it into something real while the rest of them were still playing by the book.


    when the spell launched, it didn¡¯t travel like their normal fireballs. it blitzed forward like a rocket, but mack¡¯s control kept it dead on target. it crossed the distance in an instant, striking center mass.


    unlike the rapid expansion of verna¡¯s thermobaric design, this was pure directed violence. the barriers ruptured simultaneously, turning their contained energy into a focused blast. it hit like a canister shot, spraying superheated fragments in a concentrated cone through the target. when the dust settled, the dummy was just... gone. the stone wall behind it didn¡¯t fare much better.


    even warren¡¯s stoic persona cracked a bit. his eyes widened just a fraction ¨C the equivalent of another man¡¯s jaw hitting the floor. verna had both hands over her mouth.


    ethan summed it up perfectly: ¡°holy shit.¡±


    ¡°macpherson, that is... quite a recovery you¡¯ve made,¡± warren said. ¡°take care not to overtax yourself.¡±


    ¡°oh,¡± mack laughed. he held up his hands, explaining himself in unparalleled humility. ¡°still healing. all that? just basic spells; nothing lady verna hadn¡¯t already taught us.¡±


    warren turned to verna. ¡°you¡¯ve taught them advanced combinations?¡±


    ¡°no,¡± verna shook her head, still staring at the wreckage. ¡°well, i did teach them the enhanced fireball ¨C how to integrate air for added force and preserve its power within a barrier. however, i shan¡¯t take credit for the fragmentation, nor the curious shaping. i¡¯ve seen but hints of such designs in theoretical trials... it seems that these are sergeant macpherson¡¯s own innovations.¡±


    ¡°i see.¡± warren studied mack again. ¡°tell me, sergeant, has your mana capacity been assessed yet? there¡¯s no record of it in your dossier.¡±


    ¡°sir warren,¡± verna interjected before mack could respond. ¡°though his recovery has been most remarkable, the manameter would invite undue strain. he should avoid such exertion.¡±


    ¡°a modest measurement shall suffice,¡± warren pushed back. ¡°only such as the sergeant¡¯s constitution can safely endure.¡± he glanced at mack then at cole.


    of course, cole could order mack to do it. but this wasn¡¯t his decision to make, nor was it his field of expertise. he raised his eyebrows at mack ¨C this was something for him to handle.


    ¡°dr. gracer and i discussed this, actually,¡± mack said. ¡°we¡¯ve been planning to do a baseline reading anyway, some way to measure recovery progress.¡±


    verna hesitated, but it seemed she trusted mack enough. or at least, trusted elina¡¯s trust in mack. ¡°very well,¡± she said with a sigh.


    warren led them to the testing chamber looking like some field commander who¡¯d just been told his requisitions were finally coming through. not quite smiling, but cole could tell ¨C the man had dropped that pastor-like serenity from earlier. what had him so intrigued?


    as they arrived at the testing room, verna began instructing mack. ¡°stand at this line,¡± she said, gesturing to the 3-foot mark. ¡°simply form a barrier and direct only such measure of mana as you can safely control.¡±


    the fluid in the manameter began to rise as soon as mack started. through the first bulb... second... fourth... fifth. the moment mack winced, he cut it off clean. warren almost exposed his disappointment with a sigh, but even this partial measurement was exciting enough.


    level 15. hyperphantasia permitting a natural talent with magic was one thing, but that kind of raw power on top of it? no wonder warren was in heat. the slayers had just found themselves a gold mine.


    ¡°most impressive,¡± warren said. ¡°and with conscious restraint, no? i should imagine level 17, perhaps higher, at full capacity.¡±


    ethan chuckled. ¡°damn, doc. and here we thought we were hot shit hitting level 10.¡±


    ¡°¡®hot shit,¡¯ warren repeated. ¡°vivid. though raw power, while promising, is but the first step. we shall see what becomes of it, beginning on the morrow.¡± he addressed everyone, ¡°report to the library at 9 in the morning. we shall proceed to the office¡¯s grounds from there. good day, gentlemen.¡±


    cole watched him go. it was hard not to feel a bit envious of mack; seemed like everything came naturally to him, even mana capacity. especially mana capacity. visualization, he could do just as well, if not better.


    but hell, after three weeks of being cooped up in the castle, cole would take what he could get. at least tomorrow they¡¯d finally see what alexandria actually looked like beyond their window view.

 Chapter 16: Uncaged

    three weeks of staring at the same view of alexandria¡¯s rooftops, and today, freedom.


    not that their suite wasn¡¯t comfortable ¨C they¡¯d lived like kings. well, probably not on the same level as king armonde, but even then it wouldn¡¯t change the fact that they had been birds in a cage. outside was a real city, one that gave them exploratory blue balls.


    cole¡¯s watch read 8:55, give or take. after three weeks around magic, baking in alien fields and being subjected to another planet¡¯s magnetic field, it was anyone¡¯s guess how far off it really was. probably not that much, though, given the sunlight coming through the library windows. should be about time for the 9am bell to ring.


    of course, miles couldn¡¯t just wait patiently. he hadn¡¯t stopped pacing by the window, until now. ¡°hey, there¡¯s that car again.¡±


    cole leaned back in his plush seat. ¡°man, you¡¯re tripping. celdorne ain¡¯t advanced enough to have cars. besides, i¡¯ve been staring out these windows every day. nothin¡¯ but carriages and those weird-ass horses.¡±


    ¡°trippin¡¯? why don¡¯t ya come see for yourself, then? look ¨C warren¡¯s getting out.¡±


    cole hauled himself up and joined miles at the window. mack and ethan had their faces plastered along the glass as well.


    cole glanced down at the vehicle. sure enough, it was a car. not as pretty as a model t, but getting there. it looked like someone had started with a horse carriage, stripped away everything unnecessary, and rebuilt it around a combustion engine. but unlike any engine cole had seen before, it had wiring that snaked from a brassy ¨C aerochalcum ¨C container of mana crystals to runic arrays etched into the metal. whatever the runes did, it probably replaced components, given the compact nature of the setup.


    ¡°well, looks like you weren¡¯t bullshitting,¡± cole said. he turned to glance at the others. ¡°you know what this means, right?¡±


    ¡°that we could make a fortune introducing assembly lines?¡± mack asked.


    ¡°among other things.¡± cole grinned. ¡°looks like they¡¯ve got the basic concept down, but there¡¯s gotta be a reason we haven¡¯t seen these before. must cost a fortune to build.¡±


    ¡°them crystals, for one. sure ain¡¯t cheap.¡± miles stepped back from the window. ¡°and all them runes? hell, no wonder we haven¡¯t seen much of ¡®em.¡±


    ethan nodded. ¡°those runes could be doing anything. not to mention how hard it¡¯d be to even make them ¨C considering we know nothing about making runes in the first place.¡±


    cole hummed. it was true, but that didn¡¯t deter him. ¡°exactly my point though. sure, the magic stuff¡¯s expensive. enigmatic, yeah. but that could change if we study ¡®em. mass production would be perfect.¡±


    mack had already caught his excitement. ¡°shit, if they¡¯re already mixing magic with machinery, i bet we could optimize the whole system. 50 crowns a month ain¡¯t gonna be shit by the time we¡¯re through with runes.¡±


    ¡°magic tech startups,¡± ethan mused, staring out at the street. ¡°though i¡¯m willing to bet those istraynian expeditions are where the real money is. literally, and for technology.¡±


    ¡°if you can get past the demons,¡± miles snorted. ¡°and whatever else crawled out of those ruins.¡±


    the door opened. warren stepped in with a slight smile, brighter than the poker face that colored his introduction yesterday.


    ¡°gentlemen. i trust you¡¯re ready for your tour of otac?¡±


    ¡°more than ready,¡± cole said, moving away from the window. ¡°three weeks is a long time to stay cooped up.¡±


    ¡°it commands attention, does it not?¡± warren tilted his head toward the window.


    ¡°first one we¡¯ve seen,¡± cole said. ¡°didn¡¯t even know celdorne had cars.¡±


    ¡°the fore?a series 8.¡± he sounded like a guy flexing his new porsche. ¡°so you¡¯re familiar with autos? you¡¯ll get a proper look at it shortly. it shall be our transport to otac.¡±


    cole followed warren down the castle¡¯s grand staircase, the bell ringing once they reached bottom. the morning sun caught the polished marble just right, making the whole entrance gleam like he¡¯d just opened up a legendary loot box.


    ¡°¡®bout time we got to see the front gate,¡± miles muttered behind him. their suite might¡¯ve been cushy, but nothing could ever be more cushy than freedom.


    the series 8 waited outside. up close, the engine setup made a lot more sense. the engine compartment was exposed, but clean. instead of a radiator, it must¡¯ve used ice and wind magic, based on the blue and green etchings. core was still just an internal combustion engine though ¨C not much difference on the outside aside from the runes, but he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if it did something like replacing spark plugs with fire magic, or used wind magic for pseudo-turbochargers.


    ¡°i assure you, it rides with a grace surpassing any coach i have thus encountered,¡± warren said.


    ¡°that¡¯s a high bar,¡± mack said dryly.


    it was a simple trade; a logical trade. he got his hands dirty so the world could stay clean. but fighting against demons? difficulty aside, it was almost refreshing. no moral gymnastics needed when fighting against pure evil.


    the cultists, on the other hand ¨C that was the real tragedy, wasn¡¯t it? demons merely followed their nature, like rabid dogs. these specimens, au contraire, had tasted of knowledge and life but had chosen damnation regardless. that was the thing about free will. it allowed the perversion that was absolute betrayal.


    to look upon your fellow man and willingly sacrifice them to entities of pure malevolence... shit, judas¡¯ silver seemed almost quaint in comparison. cole didn¡¯t know which was harder to stomach: that they were once human, or that they¡¯d willingly abandoned that humanity.


    ¡°check that out,¡± miles said, nodding toward the docks coming into view as they exited the downtown area.


    cole glanced that way. huh. the sight was so alien it brought him back to reality. a team of minotaur dockworkers moved heavy crates ¨C not quite shipping containers, but the kind that would¡¯ve needed a forklift otherwise. come to think of it, he hadn¡¯t yet seen any goblins, orcs, or trolls yet. either they didn¡¯t exist here, or, rather classically, they were under the demon lord¡¯s forces.


    but as intriguing as the minotaurs were, they weren¡¯t what fully caught his attention. ¡°those cranes,¡± he muttered as the series 8 turned onto the elevated thoroughfare that ran parallel to the port complex. the road gave them a clear view of the docks below, separated from the actual port by a good hundred yards of clear zone and a short earthen wall.


    the layout was fairly standard ¨C lattice booms, winches, counterweights. but the booms should¡¯ve buckled under those kinds of loads. apparently the cranes just said fuck it. probably had something to do with the shiny silvery metal they were made of, plus those purple-colored runes. whatever they did, he couldn¡¯t guess as easily as the blue and red elemental runes he¡¯d often seen.


    ¡°notice anything interesting?¡± ethan asked.


    ¡°yeah. their stress tables must be crazy as hell.¡± cole watched another load go up ¨C this one the size of a full shipping container. then, his eyes shifted towards the pulleys. ¡°eight-part line though. they ain¡¯t tryna brute force everything with magic.¡±


    ¡°alexandria¡¯s port authority maintains exacting standards,¡± warren explained, bringing them around a bend.


    the operational areas below were clearly marked, with dedicated lanes for the minotaur teams and strict zones around each crane¡¯s radius. even from up here, the organization was obvious ¨C not osha standard, perhaps, but nothing to balk at given the insane circumstances this civilization had to work with.


    a sharp whistle cut through the air. one of the minotaur teams cleared a zone as a crane began repositioning.


    ¡°yeah,¡± cole agreed. ¡°pretty exacting, alright.¡±


    ¡°celdorne¡¯s craft stands above all others on tenria,¡± warren continued. ¡°this is the work of the office of thaumaturgy, built on relics recovered during our expeditions. yet all of it, every device and invention, rests upon the foundation king alexander laid when this kingdom was born. that you hail from the same earth as he... there is more to show you, though i suspect even our finest works may seem humble to your eyes.¡±


    the port¡¯s cranes faded behind them as the city bounds gave way to open farmland. neat rows of crops stretched out on both sides of the road, dotted with barns and the occasional manor house. kinda seemed like the old south, or maybe the english countryside, though neither comparison quite captured it. either way, cole had to snap a picture. for all of celdorne¡¯s marvels, the machines they¡¯d left behind were no more impressive than this.


    after a few miles of traveling at a moderate pace, warren gestured to their first stop ¨C a sprawling residential district that mirrored any suburban town back home. the houses were a healthy mix of everything from colonial to victorian. more importantly ¨C at least to cole, the neighborhood gave hollywood hills vibes. celdorne definitely didn¡¯t cut corners when it came to its slayers.


    ¡°these are the personnel quarters,¡± warren said. ¡°housing will be assigned to you once processing is complete. we¡¯ve numerous vacancies; you will have the opportunity to select what suits you best.¡±


    cole frowned. ¡°¡®numerous vacancies¡¯, huh?¡±


    ¡°his majesty believes in preparation.¡±


    cole relaxed his shoulders. for a second there he¡¯d thought it meant the usual mission attrition ¨C not bad under modern standards, but typically high for fantasy settings. but nah, apparently it was just the king making sure his premier demon hunters lived comfortably. though... it did make him wonder about the other vacancies warren wasn¡¯t talking about. slayers allegedly had a very high survival rate, but who knew if that was just government propaganda?


    the road leading out of town brought them to more farmland. past that and the occasional settlement stood... the fuck? the great wall of flak towers? cole glanced at the back seat. everyone else seemed just as dumbfounded.


    the common image of a guard tower typically evoked some skinny structure with a ladder attached to it, accommodating a few men. these couldn¡¯t be further from that image. these were brutalist monstrosities ¨C massive constructs at least a hundred feet tall, with enough room for a dreadnought¡¯s artillery.


    warren caught their reaction. ¡°the final line. these walls endured for generations, unyielding, until we learned to master istraynian concrete. by his majesty¡¯s will, they were strengthened. yet by his grace, their strength has never been tested. i pray it remains so.¡±


    a fine prayer, but a damn harrowing one in its unspoken implications. even from a distance, the towers were massive as shit ¨C and he¡¯d seen the old g-towers in vienna. the pale concrete had a sheen to it, kinda like the coating on the roads, though who knew if that was where their similarities ended ¨C or began. the towers formed a line stretching beyond sight, stopping at the beach and extending to the horizon in the other direction.


    as they crested a short hill, an expansive complex finally came into view ¨C easily several square miles of military and bureaucratic infrastructure. the main headquarters stood at its heart, a tall e-shaped building that reminded cole of the original war department design, before the pentagon. various other facilities spread out around it, with the kind of setback distances and security measures that suggested some serious work went on here.


    ¡°sheesh,¡± mack grinned, sitting up in his seat for a better view. ¡°hell of an operation.¡±


    ¡°one befitting its purpose,¡± warren replied. ¡°welcome to otac.¡±


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 Chapter 17: OTAC (1)

    The guard posts and firing positions looked more Pentagon than palace. Not the best against demons, but then again, that¡¯s what the wall in the distance was for. The only threat worth worrying about here was simply unwanted visitors.


    The singular path in was blocked by a simple checkpoint consisting of guards, a bar gate, and an arch off to the side. Kinda looked like one of those walk-through metal detectors at airports, large enough to accommodate even the Minotaurs he''d seen earlier. This had to be the nullification field Fotham mentioned.


    Warren stepped out of the vehicle, producing his ID as he spoke with the guards. He beckoned for the rest of them to disembark, then approached the arch.@@@@


    ¡°Follow as I do.¡± He walked through it. ¡°You shall feel naught but momentary discomfort, provided one is as they appear to be.¡±


    ¡°And if not?¡± Cole asked.


    ¡°Then one is exposed for what they truly are and eliminated accordingly.¡±


    Cole kept his pace even as he hit the invisible wall. Something shoved his mana back toward his spine, like Magneto was trying to compress his insides. Not painful exactly, but weird as fuck. At least this procedure didn¡¯t involve digging in his ass like with TSA. Not that anyone had ever dug into his ass, of course. Hopefully, with the nullifier as purportedly effective as it was, this realm would never have to face such an assault.


    Miles grunted behind him. ¡°Suppose it ain¡¯t as bad as standin¡¯ under one of them Guardians.¡±


    ¡°Microwaves roasting you from the inside out... Shit, imagine if all metal detectors were like that?¡± Cole shook his head, the pressure easing completely as he walked several feet past the arch. ¡°At least it''s quick.¡±


    The gate opened once Mack got through, and the guards stepped aside with nods.


    The drive to the main building took another few minutes, passing training grounds and some unadorned, blocky structures before pulling up to the entrance.


    The main building itself had quite the first impression, though. Three stories of granite facade topped with decorative brass work, because apparently even demon hunters needed curb appeal. But to be fair, it was probably more to impress visitors. After all, what better way to say that the demon situation is under control than to wave it away with grandeur?


    Warren led them up the front steps. He held up a hand, stopping them just inside the doorway.


    A familiar figure stood ahead ¨C the head of OTAC, Cullen Fernal, still rocking that brigandine. Though after the infiltration, the paranoid fashion choice made a lot more sense. More than the fancy dress uniforms the castle provided, anyway. That thousand-yard stare hadn¡¯t changed either, though the bags under his eyes looked even heavier. Running internal security sweeps probably didn¡¯t help with the sleep schedule.


    And neither did business. He was speaking with a lupine nobleman by the main desk ¨C your typical ¡®distinguished gentleman¡¯ with perfect posture and an equally polished manner, except of course, for the fact that he was a wolf-man. The guy wore enough rings to catch every glint of light ¨C utility? Or some sort of flex, maybe, but one that fell beneath the Director-General¡¯s notice.


    Cole had seen enough high-level procurement meetings to read the room: the noble chose each word carefully, like he knew damn well the real power wasn¡¯t in his rings or his title. There was something about Cullen¡¯s intensity that made it clear who held the cards ¨C clear even for upstuck nobles who could buy half the city.


    ¡°... contributions of House Kaldven to the expedition certainly warrant recognition, Duke Alvak,¡± Cullen was saying, ¡°though not as far as to warrant deviation from protocol. The artifacts shall remain with us. However, in deference to your unwavering support, I shall extend to your scholars the courtesy of a cursory study ¨C though only under the condition that our examinations proceed without hindrance or delay.¡±


    ¡°A cursory study, Director-General?¡± Alvak¡¯s rings caught the light as he gestured. ¡°A generous gesture, to be sure, though surely it would not profit your endeavors as well as extended collaboration. Indeed, I hear your teams recovered Istraynian rifles. Were these studied and adapted for broader deployment, the forces tied to colonial defense could be redistributed¡ªperhaps to aid OTAC¡¯s expeditions. With such arms, we might even spare a hero, if the exchange proves agreeable.¡±


    ¡°Our ranks are already quite sufficient. Though I am curious how your colonial forces came to be so expendable. One might think Aurelian expansion would require every soldier at your disposal.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, but a single hero can only stand guard over one frontier,¡± Alvak pressed. ¡°We¡¯ve surveyed three new deposits in Gulhan as well. A hero may be sufficient for one mine alone, but your rifles would see a dozen outposts raised before next summer.¡±


    ¡°Gulhan, hm? Gulhan does lie rather close to Aurelian territory, does it not? You¡¯ll forgive my reluctance to deliver such weapons to their... potential benefit.¡± Cullen glanced at the doorway past Cole.


    Miles leaned in to study one of the marked outposts. ¡°They gettin¡¯ close to anywhere important?¡±


    ¡°Not as of yet. In fact, we have found these incidents rather instructive for our own purposes. Where once they would hurl themselves at our walls with savage abandon, now they strike under cover of darkness, or foul weather. They divide their forces, withdrawing the moment our positions present serious resistance.¡±


    A hit and fade, then. This definitely didn¡¯t line up with the relative brutishness of monsters from the various shows Cole had been exposed to.


    ¡°As witnessed at Forward Post Nolaren but a week past, if I might add, sir,¡± a nearby duty officer said. With a nod from Warren, he continued, ¡°The fiends made cunning use of the dead ground for concealment ¨C breached to within fifty yards of the eastern wall. Cunning, truly, the way they used arrows. Crude suppression, to be certain. Yet while our men were occupied with the archers, their spearmen used the distraction to probe elsewhere.¡±


    Warren brought their attention back to the map. ¡°Indeed, we see fit to school our forces in these varied encounters.¡± He pointed first to a triangle, denoting a research outpost. ¡°Our researchers must preserve their charge above all else ¨C their foremost duty lies in swift and orderly withdrawal. Our supply lines face different trials, should the demons prove cunning enough to recognize their worth. If they mean to learn the nature of each target... Well, let them waste their efforts. They shall find precious little for their troubles.¡±


    Mack spoke as a duty officer updated patrol markers near Gulhan. ¡°Looks like this is gonna be our first stop after evaluations, then.¡±


    ¡°Yes, though this is but the first step. From there we shall consider escort duties.¡± He gestured at the marked routes. ¡°Our expeditions oft traverse these benighted wastes for days upon end. A matter you might be familiar with?¡±


    ¡°Somewhat,¡± Cole answered. ¡°Can¡¯t say we¡¯ve pushed through apocalyptic ruins before, but we have had experience with embedded operations ¨C days, weeks without support inside enemy territory. Should point out, though, that this was against our fellow man. Demons ¨C real ones, anyway ¨C are new to us.¡±


    ¡°Then you shall find this... rather different. The protocols differ markedly from human conflict ¨C formation, response, the very manner of engagement. You shall master these matters in due course. When you have proven ready, I shall see you placed with an expedition ¨C much like these squads here, shadowing House Kaldven¡¯s present venture.¡±


    Warren turned to face them. ¡°And once you have proven yourselves in such ventures, greater opportunities shall present themselves. Our monthly expeditions, for instance. We¡¯ve two of our finest minds occupied by an expedition. They are now conducting their studies within the ruins of an Istraynian city.¡±


    ¡®Greater opportunities,¡¯ or so Warren claimed. Classic isekai adventure, right? They must¡¯ve had two wildly different definitions of that term. To Cole, this would be hitting up some cozy taverns, gallivanting through pristine forests, maybe slay a dragon in the process. This? Hell, their ¡®epic quest¡¯ would be picking through dead cities in the middle of a demon-infested wasteland, probably dodging eldritch monstrosities and whatever nasty surprises these Istraynians had left behind. And of course, it¡¯d all happen in another fucking desert.


    ¡°Yeeahhh...¡± Cole tried tempering his thoughts. ¡°Suppose we¡¯ll get there when we get there.¡±


    ¡°Then, we shall proceed.¡± Warren gestured toward the door.


    He led them from beneath vaulted ceilings toward the sea-facing wing. ¡°The upper floors are reserved for matters of management. What we leave now is the domain of the Director-General himself. His trusted advisors command the adjacent wings. Ahead, Intelligence ¨C the domain of Lady Syndra Thallen, our Deputy Director. Behind us, in the opposite direction, Sir Lorran Vonsel, who presides over Logistics.¡±


    They continued down the corridor, passing through the administrative sections that connected the major wings. Warren¡¯s pace suggested familiarity with the route, if not the occupants. ¡°My own dealings with the other divisions remain largely confined to matters of simple protocol and requisition. We need not tarry here.¡±


    No surprise there; operators didn¡¯t exactly spend much time with admin unless something needed fixing. Each doorway they passed presented the usual office setup: staff buried in paperwork, officers reviewing reports. Important work, just not the kind worth touring.


    They never actually got to meet Lady Syndra or Sir Lorran. Apparently, something about demon evolution had the leadership locked up in meetings. Eh, perfectly fine by Cole. Besides, he and the others had seen enough offices stateside to know the interesting stuff happened elsewhere: wherever they actually trained their demon hunters, and wherever they cracked open the Istraynian artifacts those expeditions brought back.


    Finally, they completed the circuit around the main building and emerged through the rear doors. Damn, this place was bigger than it looked from the front. The compound was laid out like any base, with decent spacing between the various campuses, plus quite the stretch of empty land isolating what had to be the research campus.


    ¡°Come,¡± Warren said. ¡°We have much ground yet to cover, and the selection of your residence to attend ere the day¡¯s end.¡±


    Seeing the more interesting parts of OTAC was already enticing enough, even for Ethan¡¯s doom and gloom, but being able to finally choose their houses? Shit... say less.

 Chapter 18: OTAC (2)

    The training grounds sprawled out ahead of them as Warren led them past the admin building. Rows of packed earth targets dotted the firing lanes ¨C much like the setup at the castle.


    An instructor at one of the lanes casually waved his hand, and the earthen targets started bobbing and weaving like they were on strings. Two recruits tried to track the movement, rifles shouldered, but kept missing as their target dipped and rolled. The one on the right even looked ready to blame his weapon. He¡¯d get there eventually.


    The far end opened up into a live-fire course. The earthen terrain was shaped into an urban combat setup ¨C buildings, walls, alleys ¨C but in an architectural style unlike the rest of Alexandria. It sported an almost contemporary look. The Istraynians, it seemed, were closer to the modern era than Cole initially thought. A few shots rang out as they walked past.


    Warren gestured toward a three-story building overlooking the range: two blocks connected via several open-air passageways. ¡°Our primary training facility.¡±


    The first floor was dedicated to indoor ranges. The doors were buttoned up tight ¨C familiar setup with the colored lights and warning signs. A few Slayers huddled around a planning table near the entrance, probably sorting out their schedule.


    The second floor, visible through the stairwell, looked more like admin or educational space with offices, briefing rooms, and classrooms. According to Warren, they¡¯d be seeing a lot more of this area in the coming weeks, learning everything from demon physiology to advanced magic theory.


    They exited, cutting across the passageways. The open air revealed more structures to the side, including a fitness center. It had newer construction than the stone facades they¡¯d been seeing ¨C lots of windows and open space. Shit, it honestly wouldn¡¯t look too out of place on a college campus if one ignored the Victorian touches. Cole spotted guys coming in and out of the gym with a mix of uniforms and PT gear, towels slung over shoulders.


    Warren led them through a set of double doors into Celdorne¡¯s fanciest gunsmith shop ¨C the castle being exempt from any comparison, of course. Wall racks and workbenches mixed with shit that would have DARPA foaming at the mouth. Cole could barely identify a third of the stuff here, starting with the simple manameters. Too bad the folks at Picatinny would never get their hands on this.


    Warren brought them to an older smith breaking down a rifle at one of the benches. Some of the runes glowed faintly under a jeweler¡¯s loupe. Had to wonder what would happen if one of those runes got chipped or started wearing down. Given how these things could bisect a demon, probably nothing good. But then again, given Celdorne¡¯s propensity for procedure, maybe the gun would just be... not as powerful.


    The next bench over contained rows of blue crystals slotted into aerochalcum fixtures. Basic charging station ¨C probably cycled through a few hundred of these a day keeping all their gear topped off. Rifles, packs, even those fancy cars like Warren¡¯s.


    ¡°Mister Marlyle, I¡¯d like to introduce you to our heroes,¡± Warren said.


    The smith glanced up. The man was shredded ¨C so much so that Cole had to do a double take at his subdued, fatherly manner of speech. ¡°Warren, lad! These the new recruits, are they?¡± ¡°A fine sight, indeed. Well then, step in! There¡¯s always room for those who¡¯ll put fine tools to better use.¡±


    ¡°Indeed so.¡± Warren turned to them, motioning toward the man with the loupe. ¡°Master Armorer Trent Marlyle shall oversee your section. Inspections are held monthly, unless heavier use demands more frequent care. Keep watch on your runes ¨C wear or damage leaves you no better than a common rifle. Remember: a flaw caught here can be mended; a flaw left unchecked will betray you in the field.¡±


    Cole nodded. Their group didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Hell, he¡¯d had sand fuck him up one too many times to know just how important maintenance was. Middle of nowhere, random ass desert, cleaning his rifle for the third time that day because even looking at the dust wrong could jam him up.


    ¡°How far along are they?¡± Trent asked, shaking their hands.


    Warren folded his arms, nodding toward Cole and the others. ¡°They shall require full kits on the morrow.¡±


    ¡°Right, then.¡± Trent slid his loupe into a pocket. ¡°Have you any experience with arms before?¡±


    ¡°Only the basics,¡± Cole replied. ¡°Three weeks with the enchanted ones. Before that, nine years with all sorts of firearms.¡±


    The others had similar responses, with Miles doing the Southerner stereotype no favors.@@@@


    ¡°Well, lads, suppose that¡¯d explain the way you carry yourselves. A steady hand and a practiced eye¡¯ll save you half the trouble. You¡¯ve only to learn the quirks, and that¡¯ll come easy enough. Your gear¡¯ll be ready by nine ¨C bright and early. Come find me then.¡±


    Warren brought them out of the armory and guided them past the maintenance bays, toward another set of doors. ¡°Through here lies Development.¡±


    Inside was a real spectacle, one that reminded Cole of DARPA contractors tinkering with new toys. Except... without the electronics. Looking through these labs, Cole had to wonder what they were cooking up next. Something about crystal drain rates, based on the cursing from the test range. Maybe it was for the guns on those massive towers?


    More illustrations showed scientific diagrams of the creature¡¯s components, from the structure of the carapace to its basic physiology.


    ¡°Their armor is, I must admit, a marvel,¡± she continued. ¡°A composite of chitin and mineral and fiber, layered and bound together in a way that is ¨C well, difficult to describe without study.¡±


    Cole analyzed one of the diagrams. The overall setup was similar to old Japanese armor, boasting overlapping plates connected by some sort of fibrous material ¨C a combination of defense and mobility. ¡°A lamellar layout,¡± he realized.


    ¡°How do you capture specimens for study?¡± Mack asked. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine they volunteer.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Why, that would be rather optimistic, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± She collected her documents as they neared the research campus. ¡°To isolate one from its pack is, shall we say, an exercise in futility. We do not, as a rule, concern ourselves with capturing any live specimens; their remains, pulverized by artillery or scorched in flame, are far more amenable to study.¡±


    Outside the window, a power plant squatted near the waterline. Multiple stacks belched oddly clean white puffs into the air while intake pipes stretched out into the water. No electrical lines overhead, so the various substations were probably connected via underground conduits.


    Kathyra paused, glancing at the plant in the distance, ¡°Were we inclined to take one alive, the methods, I suppose, would be elementary. Earth magic and wind magic, to ensnare and suffocate. Crude, perhaps, but perfectly serviceable. Alas, such efforts seldom justify the risk.¡±


    The shuttle slowed as they finally arrived at their stop. Another nullification arch spanned the road, this one adorned with more runes compared to the base entrance. The familiar mana compression hit Cole as they passed through.


    The second checkpoint seemed almost redundant this deep in OTAC territory. Then again, they still didn''t know half of what demons could do. Those infiltrators had been one nasty surprise ¨C for all they knew, some demon subspecies could sprout wings or burrow underground.


    Past the walls lay something like a Victorian university quadrangle, though the similarities ended there. The perimeter wall wasn''t meant to keep threats out; the guard towers faced inward, arranged to cover every possible escape route from the buildings and courtyard. The space between buildings was open, but each building had a chokepoint of an entrance ¨C or exit.


    The north building dominated the complex proper ¨C three stories of granite and steel built like a supermax prison. Definitely for securing and containing. Protecting? Well, who knew how many breaches had occurred so far. Not many drastic breaches, if the relative cleanliness of the campus was anything to go by.


    According to Kathyra, the east and west wings housed less dangerous research but maintained similar containment principles. The southern wing, like the north building, was completely isolated from the other facilities.


    She cast an elegant gesture toward it with her folio. ¡°Artifact Research. Here lie the finest relics of a civilization far beyond our own ¨C elegant, precise, and utterly harmless. Provided, certainly, that one approaches them with the requisite wit. Unfortunately, such wit is not always in abundance.¡±


    Miles snorted. ¡°Ain¡¯t no way you¡¯re puttin¡¯ folks on this who can¡¯t tie their own boots, are you?¡±


    ¡°You would think not,¡± Kathyra replied with a smirk that lasted a good half-second before vanishing. ¡°And yet, when the pay is substantial, there is no shortage of individuals eager to feign competence. The lengths some will go to for coin ¨C it would almost be admirable, were it not so thoroughly pathetic.¡± She frowned, not bothering to hide the look of pure disgust on her face. ¡°They clutch at wages as though they¡¯ll live to spend them, yet it is their own ineptitude that ensures otherwise. Ugh.¡±


    Cole caught Miles actually smiling throughout the little rant ¨C a hell of a rarity, but one much welcomed. Wasn¡¯t his usual smirk either; it seemed the goth aristocrat had a way of making disdain sound downright entertaining. Then again, anyone who could make ¡®thoroughly pathetic¡¯ sound that refined probably had stories worth hearing.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± she sighed, collecting herself once more, ¡°this is the domain of Sir Raylan Strinrik and Sir Johnathan Allesoire ¨C our resident dwarf and elf research partnership, if such an absurdity can be believed. Their incessant bickering over methodology is nearly as entertaining as their discoveries. That they have not yet come to blows is truly a marvel, though I supposed their shared thirst for acclaim binds them together. At present, they are in the Wastes ¨C a monthly expedition.¡±


    They stopped as they reached the western building. ¡°Sir Charles, naturally, will argue that his biological specimens are the greater marvel. One need only mention mechanical superiority to see the old lion¡¯s mane standing quite on end. As though a few mangled carcasses could rival the elegance of machines that might bend reality to their will. Such tiresome debates, but one must endure them, I suppose.¡±


    Kathyra adjusted her collar. ¡°Well then, I must away to my meeting. The findings shan¡¯t present themselves, though I suspect they may prove more intelligible than half the minds set to review them.¡± She turned, pausing briefly to offer Miles a smirk. ¡°Do make an effort to avoid being devoured by anything... unusual, won¡¯t you?¡±


    Miles grinned. ¡°No promises, ma¡¯am. If somethin¡¯ does take a bite outta me, though, I¡¯ll be sure to leave it worse off.¡±


    Warren watched her go, then turned back to the team. ¡°Well, it seems Sir Charles Sektarr¡¯s engagements leave him little respite. An introduction shall be arranged when circumstances allow.¡±


    He gestured toward the entrance checkpoint. ¡°For now, there remains but one matter to attend: the selection of your quarters. The estates reserved for you lie in an adjacent area, close to the mansions of the Director-General and my peers. No doubt you noted them as we passed ¨C grand homes befitting heroes. I daresay mighty heroes such as yourselves shall find them to your liking.¡±

 Chapter 19: Living Like Royalty

    ¡°We¡¯ve raised three properties this past summer, appointed for those newly ennobled ¨C knights, barons, lords ¨C and for the champion we¡¯d resolved to summon,¡± Warren said. ¡°You shall have the first choice among these three, for such privilege is due your station.¡±


    Cole glanced outside as they passed by a federalist-style home. ¡°Still a bit surprised we¡¯re getting this done during training. But hey, ain¡¯t arguing with that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, the arrangement was amended. Proximity to the district should spare you needless travel.¡±


    Warren¡¯s car rolled to a stop before 23 Ashard Street. Cole had seen places like this in the movies ¨C the kind of mansion some British lord would probably live in; the average noble aristocrat¡¯s home in most isekai anime. Everything still had that fresh-cut look to it, the stone barely weathered. The granite seemed to flow right up from the ground itself, no seams or mortar lines where the foundation met earth. The builders must¡¯ve used magic to shape the whole property from the bedrock up.


    Miles whistled as they walked past wrought-iron gates, through a simple but well-kept courtyard. ¡°Well, hot damn. Reckon they¡¯re serious ¡®bout keepin¡¯ their heroes comfortable. Didn¡¯t figure we¡¯d be livin¡¯ like royalty just for signin¡¯ up.¡±


    ¡°Privileges due your station,¡± Warren repeated, opening the front door. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    The entrance hall was... well, elegant as fuck. Marble floors, wooden panels climbing thirty feet up the walls, and enough space to park a truck ¨C and not one of the smaller Japanese ones, either. A full 18-wheeler.


    ¡°Little much,¡± Ethan said, failing to hide his smile. Even he had to appreciate the absurdity.


    ¡°This? But a glimpse,¡± Warren said, gesturing to their right. ¡°Come ¨C let us see the drawing room.¡±


    The drawing room was nearly the size of a small hotel ballroom. Plush chairs and divans were arranged in conversational groupings, all in deep reds and golds. Tall windows filled the space with natural light.


    ¡°Through here¡¯s the music room.¡± Warren led them through a side access.


    ¡°Music room?¡± Mack asked.


    ¡°A common indulgence. We deem it a mark of cultivation.¡±


    The music room was smaller, but no less grand. A grand piano sat near tall windows, light spilling across its surface. Damn, they spared no expense here. And if that was the case, then how much would his phone be worth in comparison?


    Past that was a hallway that led to another large space ¨C a formal dining room that could seat twenty easily. ¡°Bit big for four people,¡± Ethan noticed.


    ¡°You¡¯ve expectations to entertain,¡± Warren replied. ¡°Though your status affords you privileges, it comes with obligations as well.¡±


    But what the hell could that even mean? That they had expectations to consider, as heroes? That these expectations included entertaining people? Probably both, knowing how these noble things usually went.


    Cole stared at the massive table. He could already guess who he was referring to, but still... he had to ask. ¡°Entertain uh... who, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Fellow Slayers. Local nobility. Visiting dignitaries. His Highness, the Crown Prince Valerius. Her Majesty, Queen Adelise. His Majesty, King Armonde.¡± Warren shrugged like this was perfectly normal.


    ¡°Social responsibilities,¡± Miles sighed. ¡°We¡¯re soldiers, not¨C¡±


    ¡°Nobles,¡± Mack finished, not sounding particularly thrilled about it. ¡°But that¡¯s exactly what we are now, technically. Most isekai heroes end up with titles and estates. High-ranking Slayers get knighted, and I imagine being heroes puts us at... what, lords? Barons?¡± R¦¡?????oB§¦?s?


    ¡°Baronets,¡± Warren said.


    Ethan crossed his arms, leaning against the table. ¡°So... what, we¡¯re expected to throw dinner parties?¡±


    ¡°Shoot, if they want good eatin¡¯, I¡¯ll smoke ¡®em a proper brisket,¡± Miles grinned. ¡°Eighteen hours, post oak, just like my daddy taught me. Ain¡¯t never had complaints yet.¡±


    Ethan snorted. ¡°Because nothing says ¡®Victorian nobility¡¯ like Texas barbecue.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Mack added, ¡°if isekai¡¯s taught me anything, it¡¯s that the people always go crazy for whatever food the hero brings over. I mean, y¡¯all saw the miso and Japanese food from that Aurelia place. Burgers, pizza, Texas barbecue, hot dogs, a good taco ¨C could start up a restaurant chain, honestly.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s...¡± Warren paused, considering. ¡°Indeed, summoned heroes have introduced new cuisine to Tenria. Perhaps they may well enjoy yours. Though, you¡¯ll still be expected to maintain certain formalities, particularly in the upkeep of this property and of your image.¡±


    Cole frowned. ¡°So, hiring staff¡¯s a must, then?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, and they are no random sort, should that be your concern. OTAC maintains a registry of thoroughly vetted personnel. Most Slayers employ no fewer than basic staff for the maintenance of their homes.¡±


    ¡°A chef, some maids, probably a butler to manage it all,¡± Mack said. ¡°Usually how these things work.¡±


    Cole accepted the document. ¡°Appreciate the tour.¡±


    After the front door closed, Miles plopped onto a nearby couch with a long exhale. ¡°Home sweet home. For real this time, huh?¡±


    Cole looked around the entrance hall, still taking in the space. After everything that had happened in the past month... ¡°Yeah. Guess it is.¡±


    ¡°Should make it a bit more like home then,¡± Mack said, walking over to the grand staircase. He jabbed a finger at the large empty wall space above it. ¡°You know what this is missing? A big fat picture of Mercer, in that goofy ass getup ¨C the one with the top hat, and the uh, the fancy neck ruffle things...¡±


    ¡°Cravats,¡± Ethan supplied from near the front door.


    ¡°Wait, why me specifically?¡± Cole asked.


    Mack smirked, as if there couldn¡¯t possibly be any other answer. ¡°Cause you¡¯re the team lead? Every noble mansion¡¯s got it ¨C giant portrait of the head of household looking all important and shit. Usually with some fancy props to show off their status.¡±


    ¡°Like what, my busted AK?¡± Cole snorted. ¡°Or maybe that toaster from the kitchen?¡±


    ¡°Nah man,¡± Mack shook his head. ¡°Gotta be more... dramatic. You standing there all noble-like, demon head mounted on the wall. Or... hey, maybe they¡¯ve got more artifacts laying around. We should check ¡®em out.¡±


    They spent the next hour wandering their new home. The kitchen especially got Miles¡¯ attention; that walk-in cold storage was currently empty, but he was already talking about how much he could fit in there, all the exotic foods he could test out. Eventually they made their way upstairs to check out the bedrooms again, this time with more scrutiny ¨C and to select their personal rooms.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Ethan said as they walked into the master bedroom. He approached the private balcony, checking out the view of the courtyard out front. ¡°This is nice.¡±


    Cole could already see everyone thinking the same thing. Best room in the house, hands down.


    ¡°Dibs,¡± Miles said.


    Cole turned around, eyebrow arched. ¡°What, so you want your picture hanging downstairs instead?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nah. Room¡¯s all yours, chief. See, I¡¯m talking about none other than Lady Kathyra Valise.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t peg you for a goth girl type,¡± Ethan said.


    ¡°Think it¡¯s the other way around with goth girls,¡± Mack snickered.


    ¡°Fuck it. Totally worth it.¡± Cole couldn¡¯t tell if Miles was dead serious, or just fucking around. ¡°Y¡¯all saw her. That voice? That... That charm? Ooowee! Now that¡¯s the kinda woman who knows what she wants.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, to peg you,¡± Ethan snorted. ¡°Next we hear from you, it¡¯s gonna be from the darkest dungeon in her basement.¡±


    Miles rolled his eyes. ¡°Y¡¯all don¡¯t see the vision. Not like I do.¡±


    Cole smirked. He could somewhat see the vision. Despite Mack¡¯s comment, she¡¯d probably earned his approval already. But for Cole? Probably too much for him. Elina, though...


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll take this room, then,¡± Cole said.


    They eventually sorted out the rest of the rooms. All of the rooms were plenty big, each with its own character, so there wasn¡¯t much to fight over. Miles took the corner suite since no one seriously objected ¨C probably because it was the furthest from the others. The walls seemed soundproofed so it wasn¡¯t really necessary, but at least the man was considerate.


    It wasn¡¯t until they were back downstairs that Cole remembered the papers Warren had given to him. He pulled out the folded itinerary. Basic integration stuff for the next couple weeks ¨C briefings, policy reviews, equipment maintenance, and so on. But... something near the bottom of the first page caught his eye.


    ¡°Training mission to Nolaren in two weeks,¡± he said.


    ¡°The forward post with the goblin problems?¡± Mack asked, looking over his shoulder. ¡°Could be interesting.¡±


    ¡°Got time to settle, at least,¡± Ethan said. ¡°Get the place running before we head out. Maybe figure out the whole ¡®staff¡¯ situation Warren was talking about.¡±


    ¡°And commission that portrait,¡± Mack added with a grin.


    Cole shook his head. ¡°Yeah, fuck no.¡±

 Chapter 20: Altered Purpose

    Two weeks passed like a breeze in the trance of newfound freedom. Their magical studies deepened under Lady Verna, who made regular trips from the castle to OTAC. Individual talents began to show ¨C and so did the hard limits of projection magic. A spell that could melt steel at point-blank range diffused to barely singe wood at fifty meters. No wonder people resorted to throwing fireballs instead of spawning them next to their targets.


    Their work with barriers proved more promising. Simple shields evolved into persistent constructs that held without constant attention, though the initial mana cost made them think twice about duration. The possibilities were obvious: temporary platforms, personal shields, instant fortifications. Not ideal for sustained operations, of course. Earth magic could accomplish the same feats at a fraction of the mana cost. But when the situation called for subtlety over efficiency, barriers had their place.


    Their enhancement magic had moved past brute-force applications as they learned to target muscle groups rather than relying on wholesale reinforcement. They all moved like anime characters now, but Miles had taken to it with particular enthusiasm. Honestly, he probably just wanted to throw hands with demons. Not the optimal approach, but after that ambush on day one... Cole could see the appeal.@@@@


    As for Mack, he¡¯d made a full recovery. Better than full, actually. His mana rating had stabilized at Level 18 after last week¡¯s test ¨C a solid six levels above Cole''s capacity. Moving into the house seemed to have done him good as well. No lingering effects from the coma, no complications from his physical rehab, which turned out just as he¡¯d expected.


    Just the same old Mack, now with an apparently permanent boost to his magical potential. Whether the gap represented his natural ceiling or if it was just some quirk of recovery... well. Cole was happy for him nonetheless.


    It seemed like Mack would be one-upping them on everything for the foreseeable future, until Ethan found his niche in glyph design. Most students could pick up the individual runes easily, but not the architecture. For Cole, arranging runes inside a glyph was like writing code. But Ethan?


    He must¡¯ve seen them differently, given how naturally he took to chaining the runes together. Within days he was laying out sequences that made Lady Verna question his sanity. Then again, most sane people wouldn¡¯t choose to deal with bombs for a living.


    Then came the classroom content. OTAC''s classification system divided demons into two broad categories: humanoids and monsters. Humanoids posed the greatest strategic threat ¨C from the lowly imps all the way up to the dreaded Archfiends. Each type had its own Level rating, though Cole had noticed the instructors seemed hesitant to discuss the upper bounds. Goblins averaged around Level 5, while standard orcs operated at Level 10. The Mimic that had infiltrated OTAC as a Slayer Captain had tested at Level 13 before being discovered.


    Monster-types like the Nevskors followed similar conventions, though their Level 10 rating meant something different than an orc¡¯s. They traded versatility for raw physical power ¨C a Nevskor could shrug off hits that would flatten an orc, but they were predictable, bound by instinct. A higher level humanoid typically meant more adaptability. A higher level monster, on the other hand, would just be a stronger version of its base nature.


    Like any classification system, this one showed its cracks. Levels were rough approximations at best, measuring everything from raw power to tactical ability. Their instructors hammered this point home: a well-prepared Level 3 Army artilleryman with the right tools could absolutely take down a Level 12 threat. But the real danger came at the higher tiers, where no amount of preparation could bridge the gap. Historical records painted a clear picture: only summoned heroes had ever stood against Demon Lords.


    The more mundane ¨C yet equally important ¨C lessons filled the gaps between theory and practice. Weapon maintenance, equipment checks, proper crystal cycling procedures, operating a revolver, wielding a cutlass, horse riding. All drilled into them until finally, they¡¯d gathered for their first training mission ¨C and an introduction to their newest member.


    When OTAC had requested Elina Gracer for their unit, Cole figured they just wanted their best healer watching over their new heroes. Then he¡¯d seen the look Warren gave her ¨C not the polite deference he¡¯d probably use with a family doctor, but the subtle nod shared between veterans. Their sweet elven doctor turned out to be a Slayer Elite with a Level 16 mana rating ¨C one of the youngest in Celdorne¡¯s history.


    Not that Cole would have ever guessed that. The signs did eventually show themselves, though ¨C namely how she held a rifle like it was normal.


    Still, Ethan had doubts about a new member. Fresh dynamics, unknown variable. Fair enough, but Mack¡¯s talents didn¡¯t include healing magic yet, and Cole had seen enough to know that magic changed the old rules. Besides, Cole had seen enough anime to know the score ¨C not as much as Mack, of course, but enough nonetheless. Every solid party needed a good healer.


    Standing at a train station now, watching the cargo being loaded, Cole realized having Elina would be good for another reason: they didn''t know shit about Celdorne beyond Alexandria¡¯s walls.


    The train horn billowed.


    ¡°Two day trip just to get there, huh?¡± Miles asked, following Warren past the line of passengers waiting by the platform¡¯s nullification checkpoints.


    Cole shouldered his pack and grabbed his luggage. Their electronics still worked fine thanks to their solar chargers and spare batteries, but their options were limited. Having radios for themselves wouldn¡¯t be very useful if they needed to call in artillery support or request reinforcements.


    The goth elf researcher had picked up on that gap right away. Lady Kathyra had been diplomatic about it, floating the idea of studying their gear after this first mission. No pressure, just an open invitation to share what they thought might help.


    Hell, Celdorne wasn''t far off from figuring out radio tech on their own, though the Scrying Panes probably pushed back any real need for it. Their electrical theory was solid. Within a year they could probably be fielding radios for all of OTAC and Army support units. Tantalizing, but there were also other insights they could give Kathyra.


    Better bullets and new bullet types, for one. FMJ, hollow point, tracers, maybe even armor piercing and frangible sometime down the line. Their metallurgy and industrial capacity was already there, based on what he¡¯d seen in Alexandria and in OTAC¡¯s arsenal. They just needed the right designs. ?§¡?o??B§¦s?


    Grenades were trickier. Enhanced fireballs already packed more punch than any conventional frag, and his and Mack¡¯s modernized version had only widened that gap. But there was potential there; he¡¯d seen how they worked runes into equipment. Just how far could they upgrade frags and flashbangs and other types of gear with runes?


    ¡°Yeah, some conspiracy of fortune indeed,¡± Cole smirked. ¡°Truly crazy how they¡¯re putting their best healer exactly where they need her.¡±


    She gave a light laugh. ¡°Oh, very good. Yes, I suppose they wouldn¡¯t dare let their precious heroes stumble so soon. One must ensure the tales match the... substance. And... you¡¯ve certainly provided that.¡±


    Elina hesitated at the end there, holding his gaze a moment longer before looking away. For someone who¡¯d been assigned to babysit them, she seemed awfully eager about the whole thing. Then again, everyone had their reasons for fighting ¨C doubly so when demons were involved. Could be revenge, could be glory, could be duty. Hell, maybe she just thought it was cool to work with a party of heroes; Tenria had tons of those stored away in various libraries and children¡¯s books. Or maybe her interest was more specific than that, given how she¡¯d emphasized ¡®substance.¡¯ But until he could get to know her better, there was simply no way of knowing yet.


    The train lurched forward, and Alexandria began to fade behind them. It rolled through familiar territory at first: past their neighborhood, past OTAC, past the military installations they¡¯d gotten used to seeing on their daily commute. As they approached the Final Line, those massive towers finally came into proper perspective. Cole had seen them plenty of times from OTAC, but up close? The gun emplacements were enormous; each one looked like it belonged on an Iowa-class battleship.


    Warren came back with their timeline mapped out as they emerged on the other side of the Final Line. Apparently, they¡¯d arrive at Nolaren by sunset the day after tomorrow, weather permitting. The route followed the coast for most of the run, which meant predictable conditions unless a storm rolled in off the sea.


    They passed by more farmland before a steward arrived to take lunch orders, and Cole let the others go first while he studied the menu. Elina had gone off about their pheasant ¨C a dish seldom served without descending into something resembling a tanner¡¯s craft, as she put it. Yet somehow, the chefs here always pulled through, as expected for a railroad company that was apparently famous among the nobility. Naturally, they had to give it a try.


    The food arrived around an hour later, and just like with the Michelin Star-quality dishes from the castle, the stuff here would probably be enough to make Gordon Ramsay cry tears of joy.


    The meal passed with idle chatter focusing on Mack¡¯s recovery, and Cole found himself drawn to the window more and more as they rolled deeper into Celdorne proper. The landscape wasn¡¯t all that different from what he¡¯d expect back home ¨C clusters of cities surrounded by sprawling villages and towns, connected by highways and rail lines. Just trade the fast food restaurants and Walmarts for that Victorian architecture they seemed to love so much.


    Most of the journey was dedicated to studying, and he ended up sharing a booth with Elina during their reading sessions.


    The historical records were the real eye-opener. Comparing texts from the 4th and 6th incursions showed the first documented cases of demon evolution ¨C Nevskors trading their simple scales for that compound lamellar armor they used now. And that was just the physical adaptation. Their tactics evolved exponentially faster. Most incursions featured straight-up charges until the 6th incursion just a century ago. Now, apparently, they were infiltrating humanity¡¯s civilizations.


    Warren mostly kept to himself during these sessions, occasionally offering context but generally absorbed in his own documents. Elina proved more engaging company, especially when the conversation turned to experimental magic. She¡¯d graduated top of her class at Celdor University with a thesis on regeneration magic.


    Apparently, aggressive regeneration ¨C particularly from amateur healers ¨C often led to tumors. The best healers could regenerate entire limbs without complications, but nobody really understood why less skilled attempts went wrong. Until Elina started experimenting on captured lesser fiends, deliberately manipulating healing magic in different ways to see what caused the mutations.


    Her story sounded about as fucked up as Cole could imagine. It was pure Unit 731 type shit; research gained only through abominable trial and error, pushing magic in ways it was never meant to go. It was hard to feel bad about it when demons were involved, but still ¨C there was something unsettling about how cheerfully she discussed weaponizing cancer research. Then again, he couldn¡¯t really argue with the results. And neither could Mack, who¡¯d been patched up with that same expertise when they first arrived. Good thing she¡¯d worked out the kinks on demons first.


    Between Elina¡¯s casual discussion of demon vivisection and Mack¡¯s disturbingly practical questions about using regeneration for growing new limbs, Cole was starting to wonder if this world was getting to all of them. At least they¡¯d get to test these theories soon enough; the train was already slowing for their approach to Veloren, the last major city before the First Line.


    They¡¯d figured Veloren would be more military-focused than Alexandria, but damn. The whole city was basically one giant supply depot with a town attached. It was just warehouses, factories, and enough railway infrastructure to make Norfolk Southern jealous.


    The OTAC shuttle waiting for them at the station looked exactly like the ones back home ¨C well, back in Alexandria, anyway. The route to the First Line painted a clearer picture of what they were up against. Demon corpses littered the plain grassy fields: mostly low-level imps and goblins nobody bothered to clear or harvest, rotting where they fell. Celdornian cavalry ran regular patrols between a network of trenches and earthwork fortifications. He¡¯d have thought this would be more like the Korean DMZ, but no ¨C this was more like No Man¡¯s Land.


    Nolaren turned out to be just another cog in the machine, one of dozens of forward posts maintaining the perimeter. It adopted a star-shaped design, with outer walls at least 50 feet high and a water-filled moat sourced from a nearby river. It seemed like overkill, until Cole remembered the possibility of tunneling demons. The whole structure was carved with glyphs, some of them blaring red.


    The gate guard snapped to attention as they pulled up and exited the shuttle. ¡°Sir! Your arrival is most welcome. Your presence is required urgently.¡±


    Warren glanced at the stamped metal badge on the man¡¯s chest. ¡°What¡¯s the situation, corporal?¡±


    ¡°One of our patrols is overdue, sir. No flare,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°Captain Lorresh requests you at operations immediately.¡±


    Warren frowned, but gave a nod. ¡°Lead us to him.¡± He turned to Cole and the others. ¡°It seems our purpose here has changed. This is no longer a mere training mission. Prepare yourselves.¡±

 Chapter 21: Rescue

    They walked through Nolaren¡¯s gates, coming upon an operation that was clearly running lean. The fort looked sized for about two companies, but from the activity level and the scattered patrols, they were operating with maybe one. Celdorne might¡¯ve had the GDP per capita, but trying to hold a defensive line this long with pure Celdornian manpower was like the British Empire trying to hold India without local auxiliaries. The Kingdom couldn¡¯t afford to leave any gaps against the demons, so they¡¯d chosen to spread themselves paper-thin instead.


    The layout showed competence, at least. Clear fields of fire from the walls, buildings spaced to mitigate collateral damage, and towers manned just enough to maintain the illusion of adequate security. Two-story barracks, mess hall, infirmary, ammo storage ¨C all the essential pieces were there as well. Pity about the manpower shortage rendering it all mostly unused.


    Their vehicle pulled up to the command center, a squat stone building dominating the fort¡¯s center. Naturally, it was the only fully-staffed facility in sight. Heaven forbid they cut corners on the one thing that might keep this house of cards from collapsing.


    The Corporal led them to the command post. A towering minotaur stood at the map table, shoulders squared in a way that seemed out of place for a border fort that usually just counted goblin raids. His brigandine armor was spotless, every rivet catching the light as if he¡¯d just marched out of a parade ground in Alexandria.


    ¡°Sir!¡± The Corporal stepped ahead to announce them. ¡°Sir Warren and the Heroes have arrived.¡±


    ¡°Sir Warren.¡± He offered a slight bow. ¡°Thank you, Corporal. That will be all.¡±


    Warren introduced them. ¡°Captain, may I present our Heroes, Sir Cole and his team of Slayers.¡±


    ¡°Most fortunate timing, gentlemen. I am Captain Lorresh, commanding officer of this post.¡± Lorresh¡¯s cultured tone didn¡¯t quite mask the urgency as he indicated the map. ¡°We¡¯ve a patrol overdue ¨C six men under Sergeant Vanner. Their last green flare originated here, thirty minutes hence.¡± He gestured to where a forest met a river, about 10 miles deeper into demon territory. ¡°They were due to report a quarter hour ago.¡±


    ¡°Demon forces?¡± Warren asked.


    ¡°Merely the usual weekly unpleasantness. A goblin company of perhaps sixty, led by an orc.¡± Lorresh¡¯s composure slipped slightly as he gave a sigh. ¡°Nothing our patrols have not handled previously. And certainly nothing that would prevent the raising of a flare were they to encounter difficulty.¡±


    Cole frowned. A dead man could trigger a flare if he was propped up right. That they couldn¡¯t even manage to do that? Well, hopefully they were just fucking around ¨C untrained recruits who¡¯d just forgotten the time. If not? Then there was something far worse than goblins and orcs out there.


    ¡°I understand that you are here for a training exercise,¡± Lorresh continued. ¡°This is by no means the sort of exercise we had envisioned... but it may, perhaps, prove of greater practical value than any planned drill. Sir Warren, your thoughts on the matter?¡±


    More useful than any planned drill? Pfft. Lorresh was clearly just trying to pawn this off on them. Cole couldn¡¯t really blame him, though. Tactical reasoning aside, he wasn¡¯t wrong; and they¡¯d been itching to test their new skills and equipment anyway.


    Warren didn¡¯t even need time to think. ¡°A sound plan. If it is to be a trial by fire, then I shall lead the effort,¡± he said. ¡°We shall require our shuttle refueled at once, and... hm... six of your men¨C mounted and ready.¡±


    ¡°Consider it done, Sir Warren.¡± Lorresh nodded toward some aides, who left to carry out the orders. He then turned to address them. ¡°I trust you¡¯ll find our armory sufficient should you require additional supplies.¡±


    ¡°Appreciate it,¡± Cole said.


    ¡°Let us see to our own preparations.¡± Warren gave Lorresh a nod before heading out.


    The shuttle waited by the supply depot, their little base of operations for this search and rescue mission. Cole popped the rear compartment, taking stock of their load-out. Standard deployment package ¨C armor, weapons, enough ammo to make things interesting if they needed to, plus the usual food and water. Not exactly what they¡¯d packed for when ¡®training exercise¡¯ was still on the menu, but hell, ten miles out wasn¡¯t the end of the world. There was still the off chance they¡¯d find these guys on their way back to Nolaren.


    Cole found a clear spot near the shuttle and channeled a bit of mana downward. The earth responded easily, rising to form a simple waist-high platform to lay his kit out on.


    First was the standard issue brigandine for Slayer Elites ¨C a nice step up from normal OTAC gear, though not quite the premium stuff the Royal Guard packed. When he first wore these, he¡¯d expected them to be bulky as shit, but magic materials and enchantments rendered that a relatively moot concern. His Adaptive Vest System from back home fit well over his armor. Even without the bulky ass level 4 ESAPI plates, the familiar setup of pouches was exactly what he needed.


    It didn¡¯t have all the familiar equipment, but he¡¯d made efficient enough use of the remaining space. Small green vials ¨C health potions ¨C complemented what was left of his IFAK and added to Mack¡¯s advanced kit. The lack of grenades and tactical gear made space for something equally important: mana potions. Cole had seen enough anime and played enough Dungeons and Dragons to prepare accordingly.


    He moved to his weapons next. The Vicer 95E was familiar territory by now ¨C same enchanted rifle they¡¯d tested back at the castle, complete with all the elemental bells and whistles. He ran through his usual checks. Selectors were working fine and the mana crystal had a full charge. All normal and familiar.


    The sidearm was another story. Some long-ass name he couldn¡¯t be bothered to remember, but the design of the revolver? Shit, it was a beautiful recreation of Colt¡¯s work with the Peacemaker. The late Alexander must¡¯ve been a gun enthusiast, saving up his blueprints and ideas for his descendants to mess around with when the tech became available.


    They hadn¡¯t just copied it, though. It had simple runes carved into the barrel and cylinder that smoothened operation and extended lifespan. The action was butter-smooth too, cycling faster and smoother than any historical Peacemaker he¡¯d handled back home. Nothing fancy like the Vicer¡¯s elemental modes, but these things packed a hell of a punch ¨C enough to break anyone¡¯s wrist if it weren¡¯t for the existence of physical enhancement magic. R?aNO??§¦s


    The only thing Cole wasn¡¯t really used to was the Pattern 692E cutlass. Felt a bit like LARPing sometimes, but definitely better than trying to take down demons with a KABAR. The mithril-alloy blade was almost weightless, and the enhancement runes meant it could cut through a thousand goblins without dulling. And... he wouldn¡¯t outwardly admit this to anyone, but swinging it was fun as hell. A nice little bonus on top of essential swordsmanship training.


    Last piece was his Ops Core helmet, complete with the AMP headset.


    ¡°It seems your helm spares no thought for your face,¡± Elina said, studying Cole¡¯s gear. ¡°Do you mean to frighten the fiends with your glare alone, or do you simply trust they¡¯ll aim elsewhere?¡±


    ¡°This specimen may have evolved,¡± Warren grumbled. ¡°It may prove a challenge, should we encounter it.¡±


    Vanner¡¯s group must¡¯ve reached the same conclusion. The spacing of the bootprints suggested a complete breakdown of formation ¨C panic. They¡¯d sprinted as fast as possible, at least sparing what effort they could to fire back. But past that semblance of teamwork, it was every man for himself.


    The third site painted an even clearer picture. The surviving patrol had tried fortifying the ground with small pillars ¨C bollards. Smart thinking, if the Nevskor were a Fiat instead of a hulking truck. They¡¯d managed to land some good hits though, based on the shards of chitin and the darker, purplish blood. But it had been too late for the third victim. The Nevskor must¡¯ve retreated, leaving a mixed trail of blood disappearing into the soil.


    ¡°Three down...¡± Cole muttered as Elina offered another prayer.


    The forest began to thin as they continued following the trail. The area was now dotted with weathered rock outcroppings, and directly ahead of them, a cave. More importantly, this was hard ground. Props to whoever came up with that plan.


    Another hole sat in front, this time with only chitin and purple blood surrounding it. Another set of bootprints came from the side, but spaced out for a walk ¨C the sixth man? That should mean three survivors inside. Every loss was always a crushing defeat, but Cole could at least rejoice that there were any survivors at all.


    Warren approached the cave entrance, summoning small orbs of light and sending them inside.


    As soon as they entered, a voice called out from somewhere within:


    ¡°We shall fear no evil!¡±


    Warren answered the challenge confidently, ¡°For the Lord is with us!¡±


    Three figures emerged into the light. Two of them were battered and bruised, but the third was in mint condition ¨C probably the lucky straggler who¡¯d taken that hypothetical piss break.


    ¡°Sergeant Vanner, Third Patrol, Nolaren.¡± The man in the middle approached them, clutching his side. ¡°Thank God you found us!¡±


    Warren kept his weapon steady as he approached. ¡°Hold, Sergeant. Report.¡±


    Vanner stopped, keeping his distance. ¡°Got ambushed by a Nevskor variant. Damned thing wouldn¡¯t burn. Kellam¡¯s gone, first hit. Flares gone with him. Davies after, then...¡± Vanner¡¯s voice cracked. ¡°Bremen. Couldn¡¯t do a thing. Private Tellis and I, we took a few knocks, but we¡¯ll mend. And Gadron?¡± He tilted his head toward the corporal on his right. ¡°Why, he was fortunate enough to heed his bladder¡¯s urges ¨C left then, right afore that blasted Nevskor struck. Seems he came upon our trail some time after; met us in one piece, thank God.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Sergeant Dalen, if you would?¡± Warren gave him a nod then kept his rifle low ready, aiming in Dalen¡¯s general direction.


    Sergeant Dalen approached, stopping about five meters from Dalen. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped through the pages. ¡°Sergeant Vanner, your basic training cohort?¡±


    ¡°Third Company, Winter Intake, 651.¡±


    Dalen squinted at his notebook before confirming the answer. ¡°Your mother¡¯s place of birth?¡±


    ¡°Elnoir Republic.¡±


    Dalen had him approach, then poked his fingertip with a clean blade. Red, human blood oozed out. Confirming that Vanner was indeed who he claimed to be, Dalen sent him toward Elina.


    He moved onto Tellis next ¨C same results. Then he worked through Gadron¡¯s security questions. Everything checked out; the guy answered his questions right and bled just as red as anyone else. It should¡¯ve been enough to put this to bed, but Elina didn¡¯t look convinced.


    After clearing Gadron, she made her way over. ¡°Something¡¯s... amiss about him,¡± she whispered. ¡°His mana, perhaps. I can¡¯t rightly say what it is.¡±


    Cole didn¡¯t know enough about mana to confirm anything, but he¡¯d learned to trust his teammates¡¯ instincts. He waved his team over. ¡°We¡¯ll keep an eye on him. For now, let¡¯s just get outta here before we run into that Nevskor.


    ¡°We shall return to Nolaren and deliver our report,¡± Warren said. ¡°Let the recovery teams see to the fallen once the area is secured.¡±


    They walked back to the river without incident, boarding the shuttle.


    Gadron sat unnaturally still, staring off into the void. Could be shell shock, could be survivor¡¯s guilt ¨C Cole had seen both often enough. There was definitely something off with him. His gut might not have any clues, but Elina did, and that was enough.

 Chapter 22: No Man Left Behind

    The gates groaned open at their approach. Throughout the whole trip, Cole had kept an eye on Gadron¡¯s reflection in the mirror. And hell, watching him breathe was like seeing a robot following a field manual on human respiration. Inhale, hold, exhale, all timed like a metronome ¨C like he was forcing himself to do it. Even his blinking had that same mechanical bullshit going on.


    He¡¯d seen a lot of different reactions to combat stress, but none of them came close to this.


    A medical team stood waiting by the gate as they pulled up to a stop. One of them stepped forward to meet Dalen.


    ¡°Sergeant Dalen,¡± the lead medic called out, ¡°any injuries?¡±


    Dalen shook his head, nodding toward Elina. ¡°The Slayer healer rendered her aid. Best to have them seen again, though.¡±


    The medics moved to help Vanner and Tellis down from the shuttle, offering them potions to recover their energy and stamina. Both men were steady enough on their feet, but looked ready to sleep for a day.


    One of the medics approached Gadron as he dismounted, but the man just waved him away. ¡°I¡¯m quite alright,¡± he said.


    Cole watched the Corporal¡¯s mechanical breathing. What a brilliant conversation that would be ¨C pulling aside a medic to report suspicious breathing while the guy was literally counting breaths right there.


    Better to approach this with subtlety. ¡°Hey.¡± Cole flagged one of the medics. ¡°Corporal¡¯s probably got some sort of uh... survivor¡¯s guilt. Might wanna have someone evaluate him.¡±


    The medic nodded, making a note. Good enough.


    As the medic led Gadron away, a runner came up from the direction of the command center. ¡°Sir Warren? Captain Lorresh requests your report on the missing patrol.¡±


    The team followed Warren through the fort¡¯s central pathway to the command center.


    Lorresh stood at his map table. ¡°Sir Warren. What happened to my men?¡±


    ¡°Three dead ¨C Kellam, Davies, Bremen. Struck down in an ambush by a Nevskor variant. Their flames were of little use. The others survived with little injury; it seemed their rifles and wit availed them in the end.¡±


    Lorresh frowned. ¡°A Nevskor variant...¡±


    ¡°Level 12, I suspect.¡± Warren proceeded to explain the details they¡¯d pieced together.


    He got to his speculation about the Nevskor¡¯s burrowing ability against hard, rocky ground when a communications officer shot up from his scrying pane station. ¡°My lords! Research Post Kidry is under assault! They¡¯re on the pane.¡±


    Warren and Lorresh turned toward the officer. A harried-looking lieutenant appeared on the glowing Scrying Pane behind him, a hole in the wall of their command structure.


    ¡°Captain Lorresh ¨C¡± The lieutenant¡¯s eyes locked onto Warren¡¯s face. ¡°And Sir Warren! Thank God.¡± The naked relief in his voice was painful to hear.


    Composing himself, he continued. ¡°We¡¯ve just contained a mutiny among our troops. Ten of our own... They sabotaged our cannons and turned ¨C¡±


    A soldier burst into view behind the lieutenant. ¡°They¡¯re upon us! A company of goblins and three Nevskors! By God, one of them is massive! They¡¯re charging the bridge!¡±


    ¡°Sir!¡± Another soldier appeared. ¡°We can¡¯t hold without the field guns. What are our orders?¡±


    Someone else shouted from offscreen: ¡°Flames don¡¯t work! The Nevskors ¨C our fire magic does nothing!¡±


    The lieutenant turned back to the Pane as chaos reigned in the background. ¡°Captain, we require reinforcements at once ¨C the field guns from your armory. Just two will suffice. We¡¯ve three Istraynian relics in storage, along with a month¡¯s yield of research from the wastes. Should we fall ¨C¡±


    ¡°Your current forces?¡± Lorresh cut in.


    ¡°Forty-three combat-ready after the mutiny. Five combat mages.¡± The lieutenant hesitated, then apparently decided on his argument. ¡°Sir, we cannot lose these artifacts to the demons.¡±


    Lorresh hesitated. But for what? The math wasn¡¯t anything crazy like differential equations ¨C Kidry sat 12 miles away, 30 minutes at most. That kind of call should¡¯ve taken a second to make.


    But no, here they were, watching an inexperienced commander agonize over whether to send help to those who might be dying right now. Thirty minutes. That¡¯s all it would take. Fucking leadership paralysis.


    After a good twenty seconds of thought, Lorresh¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Dispatch a small party to evacuate the research staff and artifacts. The rest must delay, grant them time to withdraw.¡±


    ¡°Wha- Captain, I can¡¯t! That would be... utter folly. I cannot, in good conscience, consign my men to such a fate, not when an alternative solution is readily accomplished,¡± the lieutenant rebutted, glancing at Cole¡¯s team. ¡°The Slayers, along with two field guns. This is all I request of you. Please, sir.¡±


    ¡°Lieutenant, I...¡± Lorresh¡¯s voice faltered. ¡°I understand, truly, but... we cannot ¨C I cannot hazard such a loss...¡± He hesitated, struggling for words. Then, he straightened and drew closer to the Pane, standing directly in front of it.


    ¡°We shall endure through that which we preserve.¡± The words lent him steadiness, as if they somehow justified his decision. Real Thermopylae shit there, except Leonidas actually had the balls to die with his men instead of playing armchair commander from a fortress. ¡°Save whom you may, along with the artifacts. May God be with you.¡±


    ¡°No, it seems not.¡± Warren glanced ahead, where the Second Platoon had organized. ¡°This incursion makes that plain. Two Nevskors, evolved beyond what we¡¯ve heretofore witnessed... Indeed, this is no common raid. Something higher moves them. No mere orc set this in motion.¡±


    Warren turned toward the command center. ¡°I shall return anon. Thank you for your insight, Sergeant Garrett; I must put this before the Director-General.¡±


    Cole watched him go, taking a sip from his own canteen. That was when he saw it ¨C one of the soldiers in the Second Platoon, helmet on, breaking formation and walking toward Warren. Maybe he had business with Warren? A fan, maybe?


    But it didn¡¯t seem right; there was a time and place for getting autographs, and this sure as hell wasn¡¯t one. Shit, he didn¡¯t even wave a hand like an enthusiastic fan might. If Warren had caught on, he couldn¡¯t tell.


    Warren adjusted his path, angling himself so there was no one behind the soldier ¨C no collateral damage. Oh, he knew.


    And it paid off.


    The helmeted soldier moved fast, his rifle snapping up with unnatural speed ¨C enhancement magic. Warren reacted just as fast, bringing his revolver up.


    At the same time, multiple barriers flared to life. The first layer was pulled straight from the surrounding atmosphere ¨C ambient moisture condensed into a dense curtain of water. Behind it, a slab of earth and rock, compacted with magic, meant to absorb whatever got through. The final layer, a standard barrier, stood as a failsafe against anything that still had force behind it.


    Both sides fired.


    Warren¡¯s setup might¡¯ve worked against 9mm ¨C hell, it might¡¯ve worked against .50. But this was the same sort of round that pulverized that mimic on the first night. It moved hard, cleaving through the water as if it weren¡¯t even there. It ripped through the stone next, punching a clean hole through like sabot against drywall. Then it hit the barrier, which probably did more than the water, but may as well have been nonexistent in the grand scheme of things.


    The round slammed into Warren¡¯s armor with the force of a truck, launching him backward.


    The other guy? He wouldn¡¯t be getting up at all.


    Warren¡¯s revolver had obliterated his chest, leaving a grotesque bloom of red where his torso used to be.


    Cole was already en route, but it seemed that was the end of it. No immediate targets. The nearby soldiers didn¡¯t even have time to react. The fight had lasted all of two seconds ¨C most of them probably hadn¡¯t even registered what just happened.


    ¡°MEDIC!¡± Cole yelled, rushing to Warren¡¯s side to cover him.


    Warren groaned. It was a rough, ragged sound ¨C not one of those death groans Cole had witnessed occasionally, thank God. His breathing seemed painful, but at least it was still an option. Warren might be hurting, but at least he still had a chest. Couldn¡¯t say the same for that helmeted guy.


    Elina and Mack dropped down beside him while Miles and Ethan covered, directing the nearby soldiers to check on the rest of Sergeant Dalen¡¯s group.


    Cole glanced down at the impact site, stepping back to give the two medical experts room. The bullet had left a deep crater, warping the metal and caving it inward, but it had held, somehow. Probably because it was made of some absurdly high-tier legendary bullshit, the kind that could stop what should have been a kill shot.


    ¡°We gotta get this off,¡± Mack said.


    Elina nodded, helping him loosen the brigandine¡¯s side buckles until they could push it above the damaged section.


    Warren grunted as it dragged over his skin, exposing the undersuit beneath ¨C Arachne Silk, courtesy of OTAC¡¯s lavish spending on its Slayers. Right now, it had demonstrated that it was worth every coin.


    No penetration, no stain, no blood. A good sign, but they weren¡¯t out of the woods just yet. Mack pulled up the undersuit, checking the skin. The bruising was already setting in. A deep, angry purple-black splotch spread across his side, centered on the worst of the impact. The edges bled out into mottled red and dark blue, swelling slightly where blood had pooled under the skin.


    ¡°No crepitus,¡± Mack said, feeling the region. He caught Warren¡¯s confusion. ¡°I mean, no broken bones.¡±


    Mack smiled, patting Warren on the shoulder. ¡°Good news: your organs aren¡¯t leaking. Just cracked ribs and a lot of bruising.¡± He turned to Elina as Warren gave a grunt of acknowledgment. ¡°How long will it take?¡±


    ¡°An hour to fully ¨C¡±


    Warren raised his hand. ¡°Leave me. The medics here ¨C you must go. Kidry.¡±


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    ¡°Yo,¡± Ethan called out from behind them. He stood over the fallen soldier, the helmet already removed. ¡°It¡¯s Gadron.¡±


    ¡°He ain¡¯t shiftin¡¯ though,¡± Miles said. ¡°Ain¡¯t a mimic?¡±


    ¡°A mystery for¨C¡± Warren groaned, shifting to get a glance. ¡° ¨Clater. Stronger demon, no doubt. No time to tarry. Kidry. Go.¡±


    Cole nodded. They¡¯d have enough time to speculate en route. Mind control, possession ¨C whatever it was, that must''ve been what caused the mutiny. They¡¯d find out soon enough.


    ¡°Alright.¡± He turned to his team as a pair of Nolaren¡¯s medics tended to Warren. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

 Chapter 23: Possession

    Cole tracked the sun¡¯s descent through the shuttle windows. The increasing cloud cover meant maybe half an hour of useful daylight left. Perfect time for those things.


    ¡°And to think I¡¯d believed myself prepared for further absurdity.¡± Elina gave an awkward laugh, pointing at Cole¡¯s helmet. ¡°I had thought your helm an oddity in itself, but... what am I to make of that?¡±


    Cole smirked. ¡°We call ¡®em NODs. Lets us uh...¡± he paused. The ENVG-B sitting on top of his head could do a hell of a lot more than night vision, but explaining thermal overlays to someone who¡¯d probably just learned of electricity seemed counterproductive. ¡°Lets us see in the dark. We may need them if the fighting spills into the forest.¡±


    ¡°Reckon so ¨C Kidry¡¯s sittin¡¯ right next to the forest, after all,¡± Miles said from the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Should be comin¡¯ up on it right now, just past this rise.¡±


    Miles slowed down their shuttle. Behind them, hooves crunched to a halt as the relief force reined in their mounts. Cole grabbed his rifle and stepped down from the shuttle, checking that his gear was properly secured.


    The lieutenant commanding the riders dismounted and crossed to their position.


    ¡°Sir Cole,¡± the man saluted. ¡°Lieutenant Malcord, at your service.¡±


    ¡°Lieutenant.¡± Cole returned the salute. ¡°Keep your men here until we know what we¡¯re dealing with.¡±


    ¡°Understood, sir.¡±


    Cole turned toward Miles and jerked his head toward the slight hill. Miles nodded, shouldering his Vicer.


    Cole flicked his fingers, and the ground obeyed ¨C dirt and stone shifting into simple flat steps.


    Magic, as he had learned, turned out to be a lot more useful than he¡¯d initially thought. Even something as small as making a staircase with earth magic made enough of a difference. Of course, they weren¡¯t necessary ¨C they could scramble up if they had to ¨C but they had an obvious quality of life adjustment available. With magic discipline a negligible concern, why not take it?


    They climbed up in silence, ankles saved from loose shale. Five meters from the top, Cole halted and reached out, fingers curling in the dirt. The earth swelled upward, forming a low ridge ¨C a natural blind with a narrow slit.


    Only then did they crawl the last stretch, keeping low, close enough to see over but not enough to silhouette themselves against the sky.


    Cole exhaled, rolling his shoulders before pulling the spyglass from his vest and extending it. Next to him, Miles settled in, rifle braced.


    Kidry perched on its low mound, the afternoon light catching glints on its stone walls. The moat was narrower than he¡¯d expected ¨C ten feet at most, basically a glorified creek. A ragged breach gaped in the section facing the forest where something big had come through. No defenders visible on the walls, unfortunately. Just empty ramparts and towers.


    Goblin corpses littered the ground outside the walls, maybe two dozen of them. But no sign of the Nevskors they¡¯d reportedly engaged, nor any of the larger demon troops like orcs. He glanced at the walls again. Still not a single silhouette against the sky. Maybe it meant they were holed up somewhere inside, but that was admittedly wishful thinking. Shit definitely didn¡¯t sit right.


    ¡°I¡¯m counting at least 20 corpses ¨C all goblins,¡± Cole reported, scanning the field. ¡°No Nevskors. No defenders on the ramparts.¡±


    ¡°Well, that don¡¯t track. Ain¡¯t no way Kidry went down that fast.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m prayin¡¯ they¡¯re just holed up, barricaded in one of those buildings.¡± Cole zoomed in on the breach. ¡°Shit.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Gate¡¯s blown. From the inside.¡± Cole lowered his spyglass.


    Miles exhaled. ¡°Hell... Gotta be tied to that mutiny they mentioned. If it weren¡¯t mimics... possession?¡±


    ¡°Fuck...¡± Cole crawled back, stowing his spyglass. ¡°Let¡¯s regroup, see if Elina knows anything.¡±


    Malcord approached as they hit the base of the hill. ¡°Sir Cole?¡±


    Cole shook his head. ¡°No signs of activity from Kidry. Gate¡¯s breached from the inside ¨C an extension of the mutiny, most likely. Either the survivors are holed up, or there are none remaining.¡±


    That landed like a punch to the gut. Malcord lowered his head. ¡°That bodes... ill.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no kidding.¡± Cole turned to Elina. ¡°That thing with Gadron ¨C you mentioned something about his mana being off. What exactly did you notice?¡±


    ¡°His mana gathered within his head, yet no spell was cast, nor any working made plain to me. Still, the mana was drawn forth and spent. And having witnessed the Corporal¡¯s hand guided to treachery, I hold no doubt ¨C it was possession.¡±


    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake. Mind control?¡± Mack sighed. ¡°Any way to check if they¡¯re still in there? Or do we have to, well...¡± he lowered his voice, ¡°Put down our own guys?¡±


    Elina took a moment to think. ¡°Should I come within ¨C hmm, perhaps a hundred meters, I may cast a spell to divine whether the men of Kidry are taken by possession.¡±


    Cole frowned. A spell to confirm it, huh? A hundred meters would put them well within rifle range ¨C way too fucking close. But what choice did they have? If these men weren¡¯t acting on their own, there were strings. Find out who was pulling them... kill the puppeteer and the strings go slack. No guarantees, but it sure as hell beat killing their own people.


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    ¡°Can you tell where the uh, possessor might be?¡± Ethan had caught on.


    ¡°Yes, I believe so.¡± Elina¡¯s eyes widened. She got it as well. ¡°But... we know so little of possession. Even should we find this possessor, striking it down may unbind the men, but it may not¨C¡± She glanced down for a split second. ¡°It may not truly free them.¡±


    PTSD, probably. Or whatever fucked up variation getting possessed would no doubt result in. ¡°Agreed. But it¡¯s still our best shot.¡± Cole turned to Malcord. ¡°Lieutenant, my team¡¯s moving up. We¡¯ll get close enough for Elina to run her detection spell. Hopefully we won¡¯t run into trouble.¡±


    ¡°Very well, Sir Cole. I shall have my guns at the ready, should mischance befall you.¡± Malcord offered a smile, clasping his shoulder. ¡°Rest assured, we shall rain iron upon Kidry should the need arise. Godspeed, Heroes.¡±


    Cole gave a slight nod. Malcord seemed to enjoy speaking like war was still something noble ¨C a remnant from an era of swords and honor, not guns and artillery. Being immortalized by a glorious last stand against demons? Sure. Getting turned to paste by high explosives? Much less inspiring.


    Same old business, then. He turned, leading his team around the hill.


    The terrain between their position and Kidry was uncomfortably barren. No real cover to speak of except scattered brush ¨C certainly nothing that would stop a bullet. It was a real pain in the ass. Not insurmountable, but not something they could ignore, either.


    Their options sucked; no real choices, just lesser evils. The direct approach at least had a boulder cluster ¨C not great, but enough to keep them from standing in the open while Elina worked. Decent cover for now, but a death trap if they had to retreat.


    ¡°Walls are clear,¡± Ethan said.


    Cole signaled his team to move up on the boulder cluster. They reached the rocks without incident. From here, they had direct sight on both the gate and the ramparts. But that also meant the opposite was true.


    He flicked a glance at Mack. ¡°Mist?¡±


    Mack nodded. A haze began to bleed into the dying light, curling around the boulder outcropping and spreading into the surrounding field. It¡¯d break line of sight, screw with their shots ¨C but at least it worked both ways.


    Cole nodded, flipping his NODs down like a pair of sunglasses. He switched to fusion mode before peeking around the boulder. The haze blurred under the image intensification ¨C just grayscale goop. He looked to his right. Mack¡¯s orange outline was clear, as expected, but the previously sun-baked ramparts were already losing their faint glow.


    Either way, they had to work with it. Cole turned to Elina. ¡°Start casting. We¡¯ll cover.¡±


    Elina stood behind Cole, consolidating the ambient mana around her. The first pulse went out, passing through him with a subtle tug. A returning wave came back with the same light force ¨C invisible, but definitely present. Cole couldn¡¯t interpret them like Elina could, but he kept his NODs trained on the ramparts anyway. If there was anything up there, it would¡¯ve noticed Elina¡¯s magic radar.


    ¡°Thirty-seven signatures. All... possessed.¡± Elina gave a heavy sigh. ¡°I sense a trail as well ¨C faint, into the forest. Whatever commands them ought to be¨C¡±


    Cole¡¯s hand snapped up. Through the enhanced night vis, an orange silhouette had appeared against the cooling stone of the ramparts. More emerged ¨C possessed soldiers. ¡°We¡¯re falling back. Elina, with me.¡±


    The first shots cracked out wild ¨C bright thermal blooms through the grayscale backdrop as the possessed opened fire from the walls. The haze did its job; rounds snapped harmlessly overhead or kicked up dirt far from their position. But all it¡¯d take was one lucky hit.


    Cole channeled enhancement through his legs, prepping a barrier for the sprint across open ground. The first fifty meters vanished beneath them, enhancement magic turning their sprint into something just shy of superhuman.


    Beside him, Mack prepared a spell. The adjustments to spell design were obvious enough ¨C the formation layered in air barriers instead of the usual concentrated core. Whatever Mack was going for, it wasn¡¯t his usual fireball; there was too much air just to be used for fueling combustion and too little fire and stone to be used for outright destruction.


    He launched it. The concussive blast struck the base of the wall, showing up as a brief thermal flash when it hit ¨C an upsized stun grenade. The defenders perched along the battlements faltered, some of them firing in a panic while the others probably lay sprawled on the ground, considering the lack of cracking gunshots.


    A fireball at that power level would¡¯ve struck with the force of a Hellfire missile. Mack could¡¯ve ripped apart the wall if he wanted to, but pulled his punches instead. The men of Kidry weren¡¯t a lost cause yet.


    They continued their sprint, eating up another couple hundred meters before the gunfire started to pick up again, followed by a pair of thunderous booms from ahead. They whistled above, striking Kidry¡¯s walls ¨C Malcord must¡¯ve acted upon seeing Mack¡¯s spell.


    Cole flipped up his NODs. Between the distance, the haze, and the disorientation from several sources of explosive power, there was no way the possessed were gonna be landing shots any time soon.


    Their enhancement magic carried them through the last stretch. They rounded the hill just as the second volley slammed into Kidry, the outpost¡¯s silhouette now hidden behind the rise. Almost immediately as they arrived, Malcord yelled out: ¡°Cease fire!¡±


    Cole stumbled to a stop, hands on his knees while his body rebelled like a machine pushed past its design limits. Fuck, he probably should¡¯ve practiced those laps a bit more ¨C or at least did some stretching before juicing up with enhancement magic. His lungs felt like they¡¯d been hooked up to a faulty compressor, and his legs were one wrong step away from straight-up collapse. He croaked, fighting the sandpaper in his throat, ¡°Sound off.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Miles said, his voice hitching ¨C just slightly ¨C as the enhancement wore off.


    ¡°Same here.¡± Mack seemed even better off, despite having been bedridden for weeks. Either he had insane metabolism, or he¡¯d taken full advantage of his mana capacity. Impressive, honestly.


    Ethan though... He didn¡¯t even say a word. He just raised a shaky thumbs-up, keeling over like he¡¯d downed half a bottle of vodka. For a moment, Cole thought he might actually go down, but the man swallowed hard and managed a weak nod. Good enough.


    A moment passed before Cole turned his gaze toward Elina, who¡¯d been standing there like she was waiting for someone to hand her a script. She blinked, suddenly realizing the spotlight was on her. ¡°Oh ¨C yes, I am unharmed.¡±


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    ¡°Great.¡± Cole looked up the hill.


    The field guns had been positioned with quite the surprise. Someone ¨C Malcord, probably ¨C had copied Cole¡¯s earth magic trick from earlier, carving depressions near the crest. It was the same principle scaled up: guns could fire over the hill while keeping their profile low, just like Cole had done to observe Kidry.


    This was probably a first for Celdorne ¨C fighting something that could shoot back. Still, they¡¯d adapted impressively fast.


    It made Cole even more eager to get this over with. If Malcord¡¯s men could pick up on things this quickly, what did that mean for Kathyra and her researchers? Honestly, he should probably temper expectations, but damn if that¡¯d stop him from daydreaming about what they could whip up.


    Cole turned to his team and gestured up. ¡°Let¡¯s see the Lieutenant.¡±

 Chapter 24:

    ¡°I assume Kidry is lost?¡± Malcord asked as they approached.


    ¡°For now,¡± Cole sighed. ¡°Thirty-seven guys inside, all possessed. Lady Elina traced some residual mana back into the forest. Whatever¡¯s controlling them is out there.¡±


    He crouched down, sketching a quick map in the dirt. Shit was barren, almost depressing. From satellite imagery to this ¨C primitive scratches and a blob that might generously be called a forest. But what else could he do without proper cartography?


    Admiring his masterpiece one last time, he got up and turned to his audience. ¡°Alright, here¡¯s what we¡¯ve got. Kidry here; forest starts about three hundred meters out, perpendicular to the wall. Lieutenant, we need your men containing the outpost while we track this thing down.¡±


    ¡°As you command. I can position additional men here and here.¡± Malcord pointed to two spots on the crude diagram, effectively blocking off Kidry from the forest in case they tried to pursue.


    ¡°Good. That gives us covered approach to the treeline.¡± Cole lifted his gaze from the map, studying his team. The formation had to protect Mack and Elina ¨C losing their heaviest hitter or their medic wasn¡¯t an option. And with Elina tracking the target¡¯s magic, he didn¡¯t need a second person up front.


    Ethan¡¯s expertise with runes and defensive magic made him more valuable pulling rear security than up front. Might as well have Miles tag along with him.


    Cole drew another line in the dirt. ¡°We¡¯ll go with a wedge ¨C ten meter spread. I¡¯ll take point, run my NODs continuously up front. Garrett, Walker ¨C split left and right, stagger to conserve battery.¡± He tapped the ENVG-B on his head. ¡°Mack and Lady Elina will stay in the center of our triangle.¡±


    ¡°Once we find the target, we¡¯ll defer to Lady Elina¡¯s expertise if it¡¯s something she¡¯s got input on. Otherwise, we resort to overkill.¡± Cole gave a nod to Mack before glancing at Ethan. ¡°Walker, can you set runes behind us, maybe every 50 meters or so? Viet Cong type shit?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Could cost me a mana potion depending on how deep we go, but yeah.¡±


    Cole nodded. ¡°We go back through our entry point if things go bad. Our runes¡¯ll slow anything trying to follow.¡± He turned to Malcord. ¡°Lieutenant, if you hear sustained fire, assume we¡¯ve found our target. Don¡¯t send reinforcements unless we specifically call for them; we¡¯ll mark with flares instead. Red means we need men. Blue means we¡¯re coming out hot ¨C have your guns ready.¡±


    ¡°Understood, Sir Cole,¡± Malcord said.


    Not exactly doctrinal planning, but it wasn¡¯t too shabby given what little they had. Years of experience had hammered Murphy¡¯s Law right into his soul ¨C no plan was infallible, especially when unpredictable bullshit got involved. But as long as they could adapt, they¡¯d survive.


    ¡°Alright, then. Mack?¡±


    Mack was already on it. The first wisps of mist coalesced, rolling out onto the field. It was slow at first, but visibility had already begun to plummet. Within minutes, it¡¯d blanket the open ground.


    The first shots came when the mist reached about halfway to Kidry; the possessed soldiers probably couldn¡¯t make out their position clearly anymore. Sporadic at first, then building into sustained fire as the fog continued to thicken. Whoever was in control had naturally opted for self-preservation over conserving its puppets¡¯ resources.


    Cole channeled mana throughout his body. ¡°Let¡¯s hope they don¡¯t get suicidal and try to chase us. Go.¡±


    They bolted. Cole felt the mana surge through his muscles as enhancement took hold. The possessed soldiers¡¯ fire continued, rounds cracking through the mist. He kept checking behind them ¨C all the thermal signatures stayed locked to Kidry¡¯s walls. Thank God.


    The forest¡¯s edge materialized after a couple minutes of sprinting. Cole¡¯s muscles burned once more through the strain of sustained enhancement, but then they arrived, slipping into the cover of the trees.


    Only then did he allow himself a slow exhale ¨C but nothing more; one was all he could afford. No hoping they¡¯d gone unnoticed. It knew they were coming.


    From here on out, they¡¯d be relying on the surrounding foliage for concealment. The mist receded as Mack gave up the spell and popped a mana potion.


    Meanwhile, Ethan dropped to a knee behind them. He held his hand over the dirt, carving out a jumble of lines designed to trigger a simple pitfall trap. Of course, he didn¡¯t stop there. The spikes were the missing piece of the puzzle ¨C the pie?ce de re?sistance of any fucked-up guerrilla death trap.


    Ethan stood and gave them a thumbs-up.


    They dispersed into their planned wedge, maintaining a 10-meter spread. Elina whispered directions from behind him ¨C not ideal for stealth, but permissible. Cole preferred keeping his eyes ahead; better than clumping up or turning around every time she wanted to throw up a hand signal.


    Every 50 meters or so, they stopped for Ethan to lay down runes and to practice simple SLLS ¨C stop, look, listen, and smell. Should honestly incorporate mana detection as well, but Elina remained their sole expert in that field. Thankfully, it didn¡¯t matter much ¨C at least for now.


    They continued their advance, stopping every fifty meters for Ethan¡¯s runes and a quick scan of their surroundings. Nothing again. They repeated the same shit for the next few hops until they finally reached the 400-meter point.


    Cole raised his fist, then gestured for them to come closer. ¡°Movement, my one o¡¯clock.¡± He kept his voice low, scanning through his ENVG-B. Dozens of faint orange signatures popped up, faint against the forest¡¯s backdrop. Distance was tricky, but he could guesstimate. ¡°Multiple thermal signatures... dozens. At least forty, somewhere between a hundred and a hundred fifty meters out.¡±


    ¡°ID?¡± Mack whispered.


    ¡°Hmm...¡± Cole squinted. He¡¯d need to get closer to confirm, but he had a general idea of what they might be, assuming party crashers hadn¡¯t fucked up their previous intel. ¡°Goblins, most likely. Unless Malcord¡¯s containment failed, there shouldn¡¯t be any humans out here. Given the raids, it¡¯s gotta be goblins.¡±


    ¡°Could be cultists,¡± Mack said.


    Miles posted up beside Cole, flicking on his laser. ¡°Hell, hostiles either way. Goblins, cultists, it don¡¯t really matter ¨C we¡¯re puttin¡¯ ¡®em down regardless.¡±


    Cole reached for the crude mount on his rifle, activating his laser as well. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing his team. ¡°Let¡¯s get a closer look.¡±


    They crept forward another thirty meters before Cole tossed up another fist. The signatures were much clearer now, and there was also... something new. ¡°Got a larger signature mixed in with the rest. About twice their size. Gotta be their orc.¡±


    He panned across the forest. ¡°Looks like most of their unit is here, minus the ones they lost at Kidry. 60 plus goblins total. No Nevskors that I can see though.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mean shit,¡± Miles whispered. ¡°Bastards could be underneath us right now.¡±


    ¡°A tremor will precede their emergence. It should offer enough time to prepare.¡± She paused, glancing around the group before clarifying further, ¡°A few seconds ¨C surely that should suffice, yes?¡±


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Some clarity that was. Cole frowned, already glancing down at the unperturbed soil at his feet. Enhancement magic might buy them those seconds ¨C assuming it¡¯d work fast enough. Not exactly the kind of assumption he wanted to test in the field. ¡°Uh, sure. Well... we¡¯ll operate like they¡¯re here anyway.¡± He continued his sweep, then paused. ¡°Hold up... got something strange. Cold spot, maybe ten degrees below ambient? Could be natural, but...¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I see it too.¡± Ethan said. ¡°Stands out, for sure.¡±


    Cole flipped between fusion mode and pure thermal mode. ¡°Can¡¯t gauge distance, but if it¡¯s near the demons, then it¡¯d be about human-size. Probably a bit taller than that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Just how much is ¡®a bit¡¯?¡± Mack asked.


    Cole probably had to retract that. ¡°Uh... It¡¯d make Shaq look like a normal dude. Fuckin¡¯ uh, nine? Ten feet, maybe?¡±


    ¡°Ten foot tall cold spot? Aw, hell, Mercer.¡± Miles shook his head. ¡°And here I was thinkin¡¯ I shoulda packed some garlic. Silver bullets woulda been nice too.¡±


    ¡°These ain¡¯t vampires as we know ¡®em,¡± Mack whispered. ¡°Don¡¯t think they¡¯d even be vulnerable to any of that. We¡¯re just gonna have to fuck it up the old fashioned way.¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm.¡± Ethan eased himself to the ground, raising up the earth to mimic a sandbag rest for his rifle. ¡°If it can bleed, it can die.¡±


    ¡°Ha! That all demons bleed is certain; whether a Vampire Lord should suffer to lend us its blood is another matter entirely.¡± Elina sighed, replicating Ethan¡¯s trick. ¡°Sir Cole, I might seek to discern its mana signature, but the pulse... it shall make our presence known. Have you any preference?¡±


    Active radar in hostile airspace was damn near what it sounded like. They might as well fire off a flare and start shooting while they were at it. Though with all the magic they¡¯d been throwing around ¨C earth magic, runes ¨C plus the fact that the possessed literally saw their entrance into the forest, the enemy wasn¡¯t exactly short on evidence of their presence.


    ¡°You think it¡¯s already picked up on our other stuff?¡± Cole asked.


    Elina inclined her head. ¡°To raise a ridge or set runes is much the same as the thrust of a blade. A detection pulse, however, is cannon fire. They ought not yet know of our presence.¡±


    Cole scratched his neck. Where would that leave them? If it does turn out to be a Vampire Lord like they¡¯d guessed, then the detection would do nothing but reveal their location. In that case...


    ¡°ID don¡¯t really matter, does it?¡± Miles interjected, already on Cole¡¯s page. ¡°Hell, we can just cap the sumbitch right now. Ain¡¯t no orc ¨C that big one¡¯s over there with the goblins. Ain¡¯t no Nevskor neither. Only leaves the bastard we came to drop.¡±


    Maybe it was just confirmation bias, but the point couldn¡¯t be more valid. They were here to stop the manipulator, and the looks on the others¡¯ faces suggested full agreement. ¡°All right,¡± he conceded. ¡°Rifles only. Mack, hold the magic for now ¨C with any luck, you won¡¯t need it.¡±


    He glanced at Elina. No laser, no thermals or night vision. ¡°Lady Elina, watch our backs.¡±


    Cole lowered himself, stomach touching the grass below as he coaxed the earth to form a perfect rest. Having to use irons in this situation represented one of the greatest challenges he¡¯d seen since coming here. No scopes meant he had to rely on just his natural instinct. He brought his targeting laser to center mass. ¡°Everyone on target. Three. Two...¡±


    The figure remained motionless, either oblivious or unconcerned. Either way, that was about to change.


    ¡°One. Engage.¡±


    Rounds cracked out, their muzzles flashing like lightning through his ENVG-B. The cold spot darted toward the goblins¡¯ heat signatures. It moved fast enough that it reached the crowd, disappearing into a mass of orange before Cole could rack the bolt and get the next round in place. They¡¯d hit it, that much was sure. But there was no way to confirm if it was fatal. And naturally, confirmation wasn¡¯t about to get any easier.


    A tremor shook the ground almost immediately after the cold spot made it to relative safety. Fuck. Cole pushed himself off the ground, working the bolt. ¡°Nevskors!¡±


    Everyone scrambled to their feet, backing away from the cracked earth and bringing rifles to bear. Elina¡¯s rifle swung up ¨C Cole registered something mounted under the barrel that his brain first processed as a bayonet. Not quite. Bayonets didn¡¯t spawn glowing circles, and they definitely didn¡¯t turn solid ground into mud. It was a tactical wand ¨C not that he had time to even dwell on that.


    The cracked ground liquefied, thickening as a slush, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Two insect-like creatures burst through, one the size of a van and the other the size of a truck. They exploded up like artillery in reverse, spraying mud and slurry. The third hadn¡¯t showed up ¨C relieving and terrifying at the same time.


    Their joints glowed hot through the NODs, segments moving around in ways that would make an engineer cry. The first one to pop up dripped bright blood, presumably injured from its encounter with the party that went missing. It went after Miles and Ethan. The second one ¨C larger and with no injuries to concern itself with ¨C went straight for Cole.


    Pure instinct sent him left as the larger Nevskor scythed the ground where he¡¯d been prone moments before. He dodged the massive claw, aimed his weapon right at the soft underbelly, and pulled the trigger.


    The round struck true, blood spraying in a bright bloom. Rounds from Elina and Mack struck just as hard. The beast let out a sharp, metallic shriek and convulsed, spraying sludge and blood everywhere.


    Cole worked the bolt one-handed while he used his other hand to cast a spell. Amplifying Elina¡¯s mud would be perfect ¨C pin the bastard down while its belly was exposed. He pulled at the softened earth beneath the Nevskor, willing it to surge up and consolidate around its joints. Mud thickened like a vise, momentarily trapping it.


    But right as Cole squeezed the trigger again, the beast wrenched itself sideways. Its colossal claws carved through the sopping clay, fracturing the mud prison. The round slammed into the beast¡¯s carapace instead, lodging itself without visibly slowing it down.


    Cole chambered another round, but jumped back as the Nevskor¡¯s tail whipped across the ground. Within seconds it vanished beneath the liquified soil.


    He spared a glance at the others. Mack stood behind him, already preparing one of those fireballs of his to lob at the approaching goblins. Elina? She¡¯d busied herself with carving out a safe island, hardening and compacting the earth into a hard, dense material ¨C much like the roads back in Alexandria. His gaze landed on Miles and Ethan just in time to see them drive their Nevskor back into the ground.


    ¡°Shift fire!¡± Cole called out. ¡°Engage goblins! Mack, focus on the orc!¡±


    Cole set his laser on the incoming goblins. It was too bad they were smart enough not to clump up, but there was little they could do regardless. He and the others picked them off one by one with a combination of rifle fire and smaller-scale fireballs.


    Meanwhile, Mack prepared his spell. He steadied himself, channeling mana with none of the restraint he¡¯d shown back when he debuted this spell. If the prototype had been a basic shaped-charge fireball, then this iteration was the first true upgrade ¨C enough to outclass the best fireball Slayer Elites had to offer.


    He started with a condensed sphere of flame sealed behind two barrier layers, the frontal one molded into a cone-like depression. Then came the rock fragments: pulverized into fine shrapnel and compacted for durability. A small aperture at the rear channeled expanding gases, shaping them into a focused jet that propelled the projectile forward like a short-range rocket.


    When he released it, the fiery missile blitzed forward with a concussive crack, vapor trails curling as it shattered the sound barrier. This was no ordinary fantasy fireball; it was a straight-up Hellfire, hot and screaming.


    The orc didn¡¯t stand a chance. Honestly, it may have even been overkill. The blast hit like a JDAM going off in close air support ¨C a raw, concussive punch to the chest. The goblins in the radius couldn¡¯t even react; they faced an instant, merciful death at the hands of a wall of pressure, fire, and shrapnel.


    Those not in the immediate radius still got eviscerated by molten shrapnel, unfortunate enough to die slower deaths than their comrades who got to experience this planet¡¯s first true demonstration of modern shock and awe.


    But they didn¡¯t seem to care. What would¡¯ve demoralized any other fighting force had no visible impact on the surviving thirty or so goblins. They just kept on charging straight to their deaths ¨C blind, obedient, like units in a game following a move command, straight into the grinder.


    Mack stumbled back, letting out a ragged exhale as he pulled another blue vial from his vest. He muttered a half-laugh. ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t expecting a standing ovation or anything but damn. Figured that woulda broken ¡®em.¡±


    The earth rumbled once more ¨C lighter this time, closer to a passing quake than a full-blown San Andreas catastrophe.


    Cole spun right, catching both Nevskors as they popped up right by Miles and Ethan, effectively cutting them off from his group. His laser was nearly on the smaller beast when Elina¡¯s voice called out behind him:


    ¡°Evade!¡±


    Cole moved on instinct, flinging himself sideways as something massive dropped from the canopy. Not as big as a Nevskor, but faster. And more importantly, humanoid. A shadow swallowed his vision for half a second, and then a blade slammed down where Mack had just been, tearing into ground with enough force to crater the packed earth and send chunks ripping free.


    Towering at nearly ten feet tall, the newcomer rose with unnerving grace. Cole took aim, almost grimacing at what he saw: pale, stretched-out limbs draped in dark robes. A face framed by curved fangs ¨C long, curling inward, like something meant to hold on. The cold spot that had eluded them earlier now stood in horrifying detail.


    A Vampire Lord.


    They¡¯d found the manipulator. Or rather, it had found them.

 Chapter 25: The Clean War

    The problem with apocalypses was their tendency to layer. And to Ethan, the Vampire Lord¡¯s descent was just that ¨C one more layer in an already overcrowded tactical landscape, one more variable to contend with.


    Survival meant prioritizing threats. And while the menacing final boss taking swings at Mack was a hell of a variable to ignore, Ethan didn¡¯t have that luxury. The Nevskors lunging for his throat took precedence.


    The monsters dashed forward with a fluidity that carried a persistent wrongness no amount of adaptation or study seemed to normalize. Years of asymmetric warfare, weeks in Tenria, and his mind continued to categorize their movement as fundamentally aberrant. Completely fucked. Unholy. Demonic. Par for the course.


    He¡¯d still never get used to it. Miles, though ¨C Miles moved like he¡¯d already internalized this new reality, treating the larger Nevskor¡¯s attack with the casual competence of a native-born Slayer Elite. He dashed straight at the Nevskor, dropping low and skimming under it on a wave of dirt ¨C like he¡¯d been born an earthbender.


    The smaller Nevskor came after Ethan. He raised a defensive platform, timing it just right so the demon slammed into solid earth while he dropped off the back. Not exactly an elegant display of his abilities, but it worked. The creature recovered fast though, circling around the platform and forcing him to keep moving. One shot from his rifle and the thing disappeared back down into the earth.


    By this point, Cole¡¯s team had already disappeared behind the chaos of gunfire and magic.


    Miles opened fire, clipping the larger Nevskor¡¯s leg. He freed one hand and keyed his comms. ¡°Mercer, we¡¯re cut off! Engaging Nevskors!¡±


    ¡°Copy,¡± Cole responded, his voice tight over the gunfire. ¡°Clear your end. Regroup fast.¡±


    The next attack came with little warning. A subtle whistle was all the advance notice they got ¨C like a shell streaking past, but far lighter. Arrows. The goblins must¡¯ve caught up.


    A wall of earth came up almost before the thought finished forming, combat instincts translating threat to action. His wall of packed dirt absorbed the volley. A quick twist of his hand shattered it, turning defense into offense ¨C dozens of earthen shards ripping through the air.


    Not that it¡¯d do much; the goblins had the foresight to spread out. Two pairs of the archers fell ¨C better than nothing, but not enough.


    The larger Nevskor continued going after Miles, dragging its wounded leg but still moving fast enough to kill. He pulled the same trick as before, but this time on the demon. As soon as the creature committed its weight to its front legs, a sheet of earth shifted forward. Smooth as the joints may be, they weren¡¯t designed for a cheerleader split.


    Plates separated at the hip joint ¨C clean shot. The full force of a Vicer round slammed into the gap, eliciting a shriek that grated against his ears like a fork on a plate.


    The ground rumbled again and Ethan caught an orange blur in his peripheral. He pivoted just in time, the second Nevskor''s strike missing by inches. It kept him moving, forcing his focus between archers readying their next volley and the beast trying to pin him down.


    Another wall of earth came up, barely solidified before arrows splintered against it. Then the Nevskor hit ¨C went through it like a living wrecking ball. He dodged it, but to what end? It was all a numbers game; it didn¡¯t matter how many times he avoided a hit if the enemy only needed to connect once.


    ¡°The runes,¡± he called out to Miles. ¡°Thirty back.¡±


    Miles dropped one of the archers in the distance, cycling his bolt as he sidestepped another Nevskor attack. ¡°Negative. They¡¯re baseline goblins ain¡¯t they? Fuckin¡¯ blitz ¡®em.¡±


    It was a good point. Between the crude bows and the goblins¡¯ weak physiology, their barriers would almost certainly hold. Ethan willed more mana into his legs, deflecting a wave of arrows with barrier magic. ¡°Copy that. Let¡¯s blitz ¡®em, then.¡±


    The larger Nevskor charged again as they advanced. Miles shifted the earth into a curved slope under its good leg ¨C a nasty little trick that forced the demon¡¯s weight onto its injured side. The creature stumbled; compensating its balance with the wounded leg threw off its whole attack sequence and sent it crashing into a tree.


    Simultaneously, the smaller one attempted to flank. Ethan liquefied the ground beneath its next step. Any other predator would¡¯ve gotten trapped, but the thing¡¯s tail slammed down at precisely the right angle, using the solid ground behind it as a pivot point. Physics still worked, even as the creature perverted them ¨C using the counterforce to throw itself sideways. Impressive, but its moment didn¡¯t last long. Ethan already had the thing in his sights.


    He opened fire, catching the Nevskor right above its head. It wasn¡¯t fatal, but it at least forced a burrow.


    Ethan continued his sprint, coming up just behind Miles as the first line of swordsmen neared.


    Miles hit them like a force of nature. The first goblin didn¡¯t stand a chance ¨C it caught an ice shard right through its throat. He had already pivoted toward the next two swordsmen on the right before the first body hit the ground, earth spikes rising once he got within a few meters of them. It was efficient, to say the least.


    But what really got to Ethan was how he rolled out of it: energy high, movements almost relaxed, like they were mopping civvies on airsoft night.


    Too bad the Nevskors were the furthest thing from that. The larger one recovered faster than any normal creature should, already orienting on their position. They¡¯d thought they¡¯d bought themselves some breathing room with that trick earlier ¨C temporary incapacitation that turned out to last no more than a few seconds.


    And now more arrows had filled the air. Great.


    Ethan raised another barrier against incoming arrows, veering left. He bashed through a swordsman with a pillar of rock, sending the body flying like a ragdoll. The pair of archers behind the swordsman tried to reposition, but he closed the distance in mere seconds and rained shards of rock upon them. Their sorry excuses for armor offered minimal resistance to evisceration and they fell to the ground in a mess of purple.


    He immediately pivoted and opened fire, the bullet grazing a scythe-like appendage. No fucking effect. He cycled the bolt and raised a series of curved ramps, mimicking Miles¡¯ spell. The Nevskor weaved through them, opting for shorter strides. Its chilling intelligence might¡¯ve saved it from fucking up its injured leg further than it needed to, but each dodge cost it momentum, which bought them precious seconds.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Miles picked up on the setup. As the creature committed to a lunge, he raised a diagonal pillar of stone that struck its side. The force of the impact knocked the Nevskor off the ground, subjecting it to the whims of gravity. And that meant it¡¯d land in a predictable trajectory.


    Ethan liquified the ground ahead of its landing. Its armor was too tough to penetrate and the joints were too small to hit consistently, but if they could just entrap it, they¡¯d be able to hit it with a powerful concussive blast ¨C turn the insides into mush. He readied fire, but the creature disappeared into the earth.


    Damn. He let the fire dissipate, returning his attention to the goblins.


    The last two swordsmen rushed Miles ¨C completely futile. The first caught a small fireball square in the chest, immolated in an instant. The second managed two steps before a spinning blade of ice decapitated it. The goblins behind them fell all the same, even if their method of execution differed. His moves had a sort of artistry that seemed almost inappropriate for what this was, like this was some kind of streaming content ¨C all flash, no fear. Like he was recreating his favorite anime fight scene.


    Though if he was comparing this to entertainment, Cole¡¯s group was definitely getting the better scene.


    The cacophony was relentless. Rifle fire mixed with the crashes of falling trees, and if it weren¡¯t for their Celdornian hearing protection, they¡¯d have gone deaf three explosions ago. The ¡®audience¡¯ over there had a Vampire Lord for a director, and he sure as hell wasn¡¯t taking any notes on subtlety.


    Ethan picked off two more archers trying to fall back, standard rock projectiles doing the job. It was just a matter of time before they completely wiped out the goblins.


    The rest were archers ¨C close to twenty of them, if he¡¯d been keeping count accurately. With the loss of the swordsmen zoning out, the enemy had shifted tactics, abandoning their coordinated volleys. Pairs of goblins cycled shots while others repositioned deeper into the forest, as if a basketball court¡¯s worth of distance would buy them salvation.


    It was almost impossible to make out the details of Miles¡¯ face through the ENVG-B and amidst the chaotic conditions, but somehow... he could imagine him grinning, enjoying the carnage.


    Perhaps the odd absence of the Nevskors and the dwindling threat posed by the goblins played some role in that. The temporary reprieve meant they could work clean, execute with precision. And that¡¯s when they were at their best ¨C when the mission parameters simplified into pure counterforce application. No different than range day, just with live targets.


    Of course, that was just the half of it. The blessing of simplicity aside, they all enjoyed a curbstomp every once in a while, where fights became less about survival and more about domination. Perfect for putting on a show.


    Ethan wanted to disapprove of Miles¡¯ catharsis ¨C should have disapproved. But at this point, he suspected even Cole would let this slide. If exorcising his demons meant slaughtering the ones in front of them, who was he to judge? Hell, maybe he had the right idea, using blade and sorcery as therapy.


    Lord knew how much he was struggling; better to indulge in a bit of distraction than let the weight of two worlds crush him. Better to immerse himself in the moment than count the days since he¡¯d last heard his little Freya¡¯s voice ¨C the days since he¡¯d last felt Lizzie¡¯s touch, her warmth.


    Temporary reprieve or not, he couldn¡¯t dwell on those thoughts. He shot another goblin, running another headcount. Sixteen targets left, maybe seventeen if he¡¯d missed one in the chaos.


    The goblins still maintained their mechanical, mindless fighting retreat. He caved another¡¯s skull in with a baseball-sized rock, and still they hadn¡¯t shown any lapse in conduct. Even as Miles sliced up a pair with his cutlass, the enemy expressed not an ounce of hesitation or self-preservation.


    That was the thing about fighting demons, apparently. They never broke, never lost heart. Though, thinking about it, they probably never had hearts to break ¨C just organs that pumped until they didn¡¯t. Made things simpler, in a way.


    No need to wonder if they had families back home, if they¡¯d been drafted against their will, if they¡¯d have been friends in another life. The demons were nothing more than purpose-built killing machines executing their programming until they stopped functioning ¨C targets to eliminate. And each one dead meant another moment he didn¡¯t have to think about home.


    Why, it might honestly be even better than that. These weren¡¯t men, weren¡¯t even misguided souls. These creatures were demons


    . Perhaps not quite the spiritually invasive demons of Scripture, but hostile to life nonetheless. They were beasts of flesh and blood, tearing through all that was good, scouring the land with evil.


    And if God gave mankind dominion over the beasts of the world, then what was this if not fulfilling the command to subdue it? Maybe it was even righteous. Or maybe it just needed to be done ¨C not a holy war, but a clean war. Better than a distraction ¨C purpose.


    Ethan executed yet another pair of goblins with his earth magic.


    Still no sign of the Nevskors as they whittled the enemy¡¯s numbers down to five. Either they¡¯d fallen back to support the main engagement, or they¡¯d paused to recover their strength.


    ¡°Can¡¯t lie ¨C Mack sure had the right of it.¡± Miles called out, vaulting over a fallen trunk. His blade flashed, opening another goblin from collar to hip.


    An orange outline flickered to Ethan¡¯s left ¨C one of the last few goblins. He sent a rock flying, fast as a pro pitch. The thing crumpled. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Miles drew his revolver. Three taps, and the last three goblins fell with tennis ball-sized holes in their torsos. He turned to Ethan with a grin. ¡°Who knew Iisekai could be this fun?¡±


    The words hit Ethan like shrapnel. ¡®Fun¡¯, as if this was some kind of game, some adventure they¡¯d chosen. Purpose was one thing; it kept him going. But this wasn¡¯t a path he¡¯d ever take willingly, not over his family.


    Something in his expression must¡¯ve changed because Miles¡¯ grin faltered. ¡°Shit, man, I didn¡¯t mean ¨C¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Ethan kept his voice flat. He sighed and pulled a mana potion from his vest, grimacing at the taste. Berry did jack shit to mask the bitterness. ¡°Let¡¯s just regroup.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, reckon the party ain¡¯t windin¡¯ down just yet.¡± Miles replenished his mana as well.


    Ethan stowed his empty vial back in his vest and reloaded his weapon. Right as he was about to tell Cole that they were coming over, the ground rumbled again.


    They darted backwards together as the Nevskors returned, erupting from below. But the tremors didn¡¯t stop ¨C the ground continued to shake even as they landed, even as both creatures had surfaced.


    Ethan compressed his legs for another jump, but it was already too late. The tremors culminated into a monster eruption, nearly twice the size of the others ¨C the missing Nevskor. Why it didn¡¯t participate in the fight earlier was a mystery, but that didn¡¯t matter. It was here now, and it seemed dead set on making up for lost time.


    Miles was still airborne from the first dodge, hanging there in that perfect, awful moment ¨C clear of the claws, but locked into his trajectory. The Nevskor¡¯s tail whipped around, impact inevitable.


    A barrier sputtered into existence ¨C solid, if he were defending against the goblins. Not enough for this monstrosity of a Nevskor. Earth surged up, a wall inches high and climbing fast, but the problem was obvious: it wouldn¡¯t make it to the tail¡¯s height in time.


    Miles knew it too. Even as he continued to raise the earth, he threw everything he had into the surrounding air, back and boots flashing orange-white. A desperate attempt to push himself off-course, like an astronaut throwing a wrench in open space, hoping for just enough recoil to shift direction.


    It wouldn¡¯t be enough.


    Ethan slammed his will into his own barrier, reinforcing the feeble construct, but the damn thing was barely holding together across the distance.


    ¡°GARRETT!¡±

 Chapter 26: Until God Told Him to Stop

    There was nothing Ethan could do. The Nevskor¡¯s tail connected with Miles ¨C a blur in his periphery followed by a sickening thud as Miles¡¯ body slammed into a trunk with almost enough force to fell the tree itself.


    Level ten barrier magic hadn¡¯t been enough. Too slow, or too weak, or both. Miles crumpled at the base of the trunk like a discarded marionette. Unmoving.


    Ethan¡¯s hand shot up reflexively, earth surging between Miles and the beasts. He darted backward, legs burning with the infusion of mana.


    ¡°Fucking bastards.¡± His vision turned red ¨C not the poetic kind, but the pressure-spiking kind. He felt it burning behind his eyes, creeping down his spine. He knew the signs, knew the pull. The kind of rage that made men forget what separated them from beasts.


    Wrath.


    The easiest sin to justify, the hardest to reject.


    Oh, Lord, let him breathe. Let him move, let him fight.


    Ethan didn¡¯t beg for much, but that was the first thing that slipped through the cracks in his mind, even as everything else burned. It was all being taken away. Freya and Lizzie ¨C his blood, his anchor ¨C gone. Now Miles ¨C his brother in all but name, part of the only family he had left on this godforsaken rock.


    The weight of it pressed down on him ¨C the same weight Job must have felt, stripped of everything by the hand of God who allowed it. But Job had faith; he endured.


    Ethan could too, but all he could hear was the pounding rush of blood, the whisper of Scripture that wasn¡¯t a prayer, but a verdict. All he could feel was the fire of wrath. It wasn¡¯t just in his eyes or spine anymore. It was in his chest, his arms, his legs. It was everywhere. It twisted through his mana, latching onto the rush of adrenaline, surging like newfound strength.


    He gritted his teeth as the mana within him swelled, yearning for release. As if it knew his anger, as if it wanted to be unleashed as badly as he did. It would be easy. Just sink into it, lean into the power and hope it actually had an impact on his mana output. But if it didn¡¯t? He¡¯d be throwing himself to the wolves ¨C or rather, the Nevskors.


    But if it did? It still wouldn¡¯t be the path forward. He knew well enough how detrimental unbridled emotion could be ¨C one of the key differences that separated a well-trained Special Operations Forces team from some reckless insurgent who charged out into open fire, driven by nothing but desperate rage.


    Purpose and faith ¨C that¡¯s what Job had, right? Ethan took a deep breath.


    Lord, let me wield this fire ¨C not be consumed by it.


    He exhaled. The burn was his to command. Now what?


    First thing¡¯s first ¨C figure out the situation.


    Three Nevskors, two injured and perhaps another few hits from death. But the third, armored to hell with no exposed joints? That one would be a hell of a problem. All three had already oriented themselves, charging straight for him, no doubt overconfident and bloodlusted. Earning their full attention was terrifying, but preferable ¨C better him than Miles.


    The decision was simple: survive. If only translating this into action were as simple.


    He flash-liquified the ground in the path of the smaller creature and fired as it slogged through the mud. The round punched through the thing¡¯s arm ¨C missed the claw, but it didn¡¯t matter. A burrowing creature didn¡¯t just dig, it leveraged. Each motion was a transfer of force: shoulder to elbow, elbow to wrist, wrist to claw ¨C a full kinetic chain. And he¡¯d just severed it.


    It could flail, drag itself forward, but there was nothing to push against. It was dead in the water.


    Too bad he couldn¡¯t capitalize on it. The larger Nevskor continued its charge, like a bull locked onto the proverbial red flag ¨C committed, unstoppable. It wouldn¡¯t care if it hit a wall or broke its neck as long as it gored something first. A clean sidestep would easily clear it ¨C but that was the problem; this was exactly what the armored one was waiting for.


    It had gone under, repositioning. Ethan knew what it was doing; it was reading his movement, timing its attack to punish the dodge it knew he had to take. A two-piece trap, just like what it had done to get Miles. Right or left, it wouldn¡¯t matter. He¡¯d be dead the moment his foot landed.


    So he didn¡¯t step. He decided to go up.


    He formed a platform of rock ¨C broad, angular, a multi-point structure with a stable base. He knew the Nevskor would try to read his jump, so he made it as difficult as possible by dispersing the legs.


    Distributing his weight, he bent his knees and pushed off. The Nevskor could still try to rush him when he landed, but this was barely a concern ¨C one already mitigated.


    He formed a slanted layer of ice, reaching up to him from the ground ¨C a ramp. He caught himself at the peak of his jump and let momentum do the rest, weight shifting forward as he skated down, out of the prediction window. The armored Nevskor remained underground.


    A groan crackled through the radio as he slid down.


    ¡°Garrett, status?¡± Ethan formed new ice, angling himself to see behind the wall he¡¯d set up.


    Miles had forced himself up, one arm braced against the tree¡¯s shattered stump. Even through the armor, the dislocated shoulder was evident. But he was conscious, at least. Moving. Somehow still combat-capable.


    Ethan fired a shot at the larger Nevskor as it turned around, skidding from its failed charge. The bullet cracked the carapace along its thorax.


    He spared another glance at Miles as he chambered the next round. He¡¯d channeled enhancement magic, grimacing through the obvious pain as he popped a healing potion. The magic would compensate for the injury, but it¡¯d make it worse later. Hopefully, they could get through the Nevskors while adrenaline still held them up.


    ¡°Garrett, you good?¡± Ethan called out.


    ¡°Yeap,¡± Miles responded through gritted teeth.


    Thank God. Ethan landed from his slide, sprinting toward Miles. ¡°Regroup at the boulder beside you.¡±


    They met each other at the boulder, Miles obviously favoring his left side.


    ¡°Right arm¡¯s outta commission,¡± he said.


    Ethan nodded. ¡°Magic, then.¡± He analyzed the battlefield.


    The small Nevskor thrashed in the mud, its damaged arm preventing it from gaining proper leverage ¨C like a car with one wheel spinning uselessly. Its predicament created an opportunity, but the other two remained lethal threats.


    ¡°Big one first. Trapped one next. Armored last,¡± Ethan decided. ¡°Pressure wave, rupture.¡±


    Miles nodded, already forming a spell that mirrored Mack¡¯s concussive blast from earlier. ¡°You trap, I hit?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ethan glanced past the boulder. He couldn¡¯t get his bearings thanks to the topographical ambiguity ¨C couldn¡¯t tell one patch of ravaged forest apart from the other patches of ravaged forest. But he¡¯d recognize that mana signature anywhere. ¡°My rune trap¡¯s right next to the big-ass tree, my eleven.¡±


    Miles gave a rough chuckle. ¡°So I¡¯m bait, huh?¡±


    ¡°Hate to say it, but yeah. Guaranteed ambush.¡±


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    Miles held his concussive blast, priming his legs. ¡°Hell, might as well make myself useful as the weak link. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    Ethan nodded and slid out from cover, firing a shot at the larger Nevskor¡¯s carapace while flinging a few fireballs at it. To the Nevskors, it would probably seem like a distraction ¨C a way to force attention away from the target. The large Nevskor bought it immediately, ignoring Ethan and going straight for Miles.


    Just as planned.


    Miles played his part as injured prey perfectly, feigning greater weakness than he actually felt as he stumbled toward the rune trap. The larger Nevskor hounded after Miles like a shark sensing blood in the water. Then, it reached the threshold Ethan had been waiting for.


    Ethan activated the rune he¡¯d laid earlier and shifted the earth beneath the large Nevskor¡¯s legs, forcing them outward in opposite directions.


    The Nevskor shrieked as its joints strained past their limits. It was forced into an unnatural split so nasty it made his balls hurt just looking at it. It landed belly-down, vulnerable and exposed. Before it could recover, Ethan commanded the earth again ¨C this time liquefying it into thick, viscous mud that swallowed the creature¡¯s limbs, then solidified into restraints. He crushed them tight ¨C no gag, no safe word, no mercy.


    Unfortunately, the beast had a lot more energy than the injured smaller one. Just holding the truck-sized beast down strained his mana. Hard.


    He held his hand out, fighting against the thrashing monster while readying a concussive blast of his own. The burning sensation in his body receded ¨C his power waning, teetering on the edge of depletion.


    Meanwhile, Miles had positioned himself with the concussive spell ready, its nested barriers glowing with potential energy. But the third, armored Nevskor had finally made its move. It erupted from the ground in Miles¡¯ path, exactly where Ethan had predicted.


    Miles didn¡¯t make the same mistake twice. No vertical leap this time ¨C he stayed low, pulling the same trick he used when he slid under that Nevskor like a motorcyclist ducking beneath a truck. But this time, he made full use of two-dimensional space. Banking right while maintaining acceleration wrenched his bad shoulder, but he didn¡¯t stop. The Nevskor¡¯s strike missed completely, its claws ripping empty space.


    ¡°Go!¡± Ethan shouted, aiming his concussive blast right at the armored Nevskor¡¯s upper thorax. The impact wasn¡¯t meant to kill ¨C though he wouldn¡¯t have minded if it did. He wasn¡¯t that lucky. No, it was meant to fuck with its balance and spatial orientation.


    Armor and burrowing didn¡¯t mean shit if the brain couldn¡¯t tell up from down. The blast would ripple through flesh no matter how thick the plating, hammering the inner ear, turning coordination into chaos.


    The effect was immediate. The Nevskor staggered, its movements jerky and off-kilter: like a drunk trying to walk a straight line on broken legs. The opening Miles needed.


    He didn¡¯t hesitate. His concussive blast hit dead-center on the large one, barriers collapsing in sequence. The creature¡¯s head didn''t explode so much as implode, a pressure wave pulping everything inside before the bone even had time to crack.


    The Nevskor hit the ground hard, its body still twitching, nerves firing off signals to something that wasn¡¯t there anymore. Dead before it even realized it.


    A solid victory, but it wasn¡¯t over yet ¨C and Ethan¡¯s head throbbed like someone had taken a jackhammer to his skull. He fumbled for the blue vial in his vest, popped the cork with his thumb, and downed it in one gulp. A hint of berry mixed with that atrocious bitterness flooded his mouth, followed by the rush of warmth through his spine.


    ¡°Garrett, finish the small one. I¡¯ll handle the armored bastard.¡±


    Miles nodded, advancing with his next fireball already forming.


    Ethan glared at the armored Nevskor. If he knew how to transform packed soil into fine-grained sand, he¡¯d have gone for quicksand ¨C trap the thing in a medium it couldn''t navigate. Too bad all he had was mud. And since this armored variant clearly had superior burrowing capability over the others, he¡¯d have to go with the direct approach. Beat the shit out of it until it stopped moving.


    The Nevskor staggered, still reeling from the vestibular hit ¨C but not for long. Ethan leveled his sights on its burrowing arm, tracking its erratic movements, waiting for the shot. Breathe. Line it up.


    He fired. The round glanced off the outer claw, chipping it. Not his intended target, but good enough.


    He cycled the bolt and launched another concussive blast, but the creature had already dove. The spell slammed into its abdomen just as the earth swallowed it whole. A deep tremor rolled beneath Ethan¡¯s boots, the ground rippling.


    A thunderous crack sounded to his left ¨C Miles¡¯ spell, point-blank. Another kill.


    Then they felt it ¨C another tremor, deeper this time, rolling through the forest floor like subterranean thunder.


    The armored Nevskor erupted near Miles, spraying dirt and shattered roots in all directions ¨C but it was off. Its coordination was still compromised. It surfaced meters off-target, barely breaking the surface ¨C just enough to reveal its grotesque roach-like head for a split second before whipping its tail in a wide arc and disappearing again.


    Ethan felt the next tremor. It was going after him, but he already knew its tricks. He mirrored Miles¡¯ moving floor maneuver and turned the dirt ahead into mud, trying to catch it mid-emergence. But it had adapted. The tremors cut out for half a breath, then restarted ¨C behind him.


    He spun, prepping his legs for a vertical leap. The mud slowed the Nevskor, but not enough. He pushed off the ground, already planning to recreate his ice-ramp maneuver. His heart sank.


    The creature¡¯s tail snapped upward like a bullwhip.


    Holy shit. Agony knifed through his legs, white-hot and blinding. His femur compressed under the impact but held ¨C reinforced by his magic, protected by OTAC¡¯s armor and a flash of barrier magic. His muscles weren¡¯t as lucky. Pain tore through them, nerves firing off like live wires.


    Too much force. The shockwave ripped through him like a power surge, scrambling his body¡¯s ability to tell the difference between standing and falling.


    He caught himself with a hastily formed cushion of earth, waves of nausea and vertigo threatening to overwhelm him. His legs wouldn¡¯t support his weight ¨C not yet, maybe not for a while.


    ¡°Garrett!¡± His voice cracked through the pain. ¡°Legs fucked. Gotta funnel this sonofabitch for a kill shot next emergence. I¡¯ll bait.¡±


    ¡°Copy.¡±


    The earth around them turned to mud ¨C all of it except a single, narrow channel ahead of Ethan. He could feel his mana reserves burning low, every second of this fight taking more than he had left. No choice but to finish it.


    The tremors intensified, exactly where they¡¯d predicted. Right on cue.


    The Nevskor erupted, bursting from the earth like a breaching submarine ¨C forced up, no other way to go. Its head punched through the surface, spraying dirt and stone.


    Miles struck first. He liquefied the last patch of solid ground, dragging the creature into the trap ¨C a split-second window, but that was all they needed.


    Ethan fired. Miles fired. Two concussive blasts, converging right on the Nevskor¡¯s face.


    They hit dead-on. The Nevskor¡¯s skull didn¡¯t crack ¨C it folded, plates crumpling inward like crushed steel. The carapace was supposed to be impervious ¨C to blades, to bullets, to fire. Didn¡¯t matter. The force met at the center, pressure waves hammering through bone, brainstem, whatever counted for its senses.


    Miles didn¡¯t take any chances. He pushed forward, chambered a fresh round, and shot it point-blank through the eye socket. What was left of it, anyway. The round punched through, pulverizing whatever remained inside. The Nevskor twitched once, then stopped.


    It was over.


    Ethan sank into his earthen chair. Breath came hard, lungs raw from exertion. His arms felt heavy as hell, fingers barely able to release his grip on the rifle. Beside him, Miles slumped against the corpse, pressing a hand to his ribs. His breathing was tight, shallow.


    Ethan dragged off his ENVG-B, wiping sweat away with his glove. His body screamed for rest, even as dozens of lightning strikes flashed just a couple hundred meters away. The battle with the Vampire Lord still raged, but they needed the recuperation, or else they¡¯d be fodder.


    ¡°Both got to play bait.¡± Miles exhaled a half-laugh that turned into a grunt. ¡°Hell, reckon we¡¯re even now.¡±


    Ethan didn¡¯t respond immediately.


    ¡°You good?¡± Miles asked.


    Ethan recentered his vision. He didn¡¯t even realize he¡¯d been staring into a void. ¡°Yeah,¡± he winced, white-hot pain shooting from ankle to hip. ¡°Gonna need...¡± he took a breath, ¡°a few minutes, maybe.¡±


    They both grabbed their canteens and potions, draining them in greedy gulps ¨C no time to truly savor that bitter taste or the excruciating torment that came with healing magic forcing bones and tissue back into place.


    ¡°Vicer took a mighty hit,¡± Miles noted, inspecting his weapon. ¡°Still alive and kickin¡¯, though. Ammo¡¯s fine, but I¡¯m all outta potions.¡±


    Ethan just nodded. ¡°Same here.¡±


    Staring at the monster¡¯s corpse, something clicked. Ethan had read stories like this to Freya. Knights. Monsters. Battles between good and evil. She loved them. She believed in them.


    And now here he was, wielding true magic, striking down the wicked.


    Funny. He¡¯d never imagined himself as the hero before.


    The thought settled in his chest ¨C unfamiliar yet immovable. It matched neither comfort nor burden; instead it was more like a blade fitted to a sheath he hadn¡¯t known was his.


    Like Job, who had suffered without answer, only to find the suffering itself had shaped him.


    Maybe that was the point ¨C or the purpose: to become the hero Freya had seen in him, long before he ever did. To step into the stories he¡¯d read to her, his voice growing hoarse as she begged for just one more chapter, one more night where good triumphed over evil and light never failed.


    Maybe he was meant to be here, fighting this fight.


    And if not? Then he¡¯d fight anyway. Until God told him to stop.

 Chapter 27: Vampire Lord

    Cole had barely registered a dark blur sweeping down from the canopy before it hit the ground like a meteor, earth splitting in jagged fractures beneath the force of the figure¡¯s sword. Cole lifted his ENVG-B, the blur giving way to the moonlit figure of a humanoid. Ten feet of shadow loomed over Mack, dark wings half-spread, and an immaculate coat flowing over armor ¨C a style that¡¯d make any edgelord cream his pants.


    It was a Vampire Lord, alright ¨C but that title barely covered it. In a world where any garden-variety vampire dropped to bullets like a human, maybe this one had the same weakness. Maybe. But it carried a hell of a lot more gravitas than that.


    Its mere presence forced pressure into his chest, draining him, inducing uncertainty even despite his training. The way it made winning feel nai?ve, presumptuous ¨C even absurd ¨C it was almost enough to convince him that aura wasn¡¯t just metaphorical.


    It was real, as if there were some video game UI he couldn¡¯t see. Debuff ticking down, willpower -30%, or some other bullshit that he had no control over.


    Hell, if the shows Cole had seen were anything to go by, this would be around the part where the main villain stalled the fight for some grand monologue ¨C dramatic posturing, a name-drop, maybe even a cryptic line about fate to really sell the moment.


    Tough luck.


    The only reprieve this creature offered was a slight tilt of its helmet, like a king regarding lesser beings. Or perhaps amusement, as if Mack¡¯s dodge had earned him the smallest moment of notice. A pause before the inevitable. The unspoken challenge: Word? You really dodged that? Bet. Let¡¯s see how long that lasts.


    Cole had his rifle climbing before that gaudy sword even finished scarring the earth, stock braced against his shoulder. Even if the bastard had planned on a monologue, well, too bad ¨C this wasn¡¯t an anime, and there was no rule saying the villain got to finish his speech before the fight started.


    Mack and Elina had the same idea, apparently. They¡¯d thrown up some small flames for lighting. Tendrils of mud already nipped at the Vampire Lord¡¯s boots before his sight locked onto center mass. Two cracks split the air ¨C Elina¡¯s shot from directly behind him and Mack¡¯s from the ground where he¡¯d rolled.


    Cole fired at the same time, muzzle flashing in the dark. It should¡¯ve been over for the Vampire Lord ¨C three rounds converging on it while the mud worked to pin it down just long enough to make it stick. Except it didn¡¯t.


    By the time his muzzle flashed, the target had disappeared without even a blur or shift ¨C just a hard cut in reality, like a skipped frame. His mind knew what had happened before his body could even process it, but that didn¡¯t mean he could stop it.


    His own enhancement magic let him hit freeway speeds ¨C past 60 miles per hour with enough acceleration and reinforcement to handle the g-forces. But the Vampire Lord? It hit top speed instantly ¨C not even like a Bugatti tearing off the line, but as if the very concept of inertia didn¡¯t apply. Just there, then here. The sheer disparity twisted his stomach into a knot.


    Yeah, this world was broken ¨C historical records had shown heroes and demons carving canyons, boiling seas, manipulating space and time to some extent.


    And as ridiculous as this maneuver was, it still couldn¡¯t stack up to those. It was not a teleport, not some trick of the eye; it was movement. Just... faster than his reaction speed.


    A flash-step.


    Cole didn¡¯t waste precious milliseconds on futile evasion. If he couldn¡¯t dodge the hit, he¡¯d focus on damage mitigation instead.


    The sword came at him horizontally, aiming to split his torso from his legs. Unlike the more amateur swings of the Mimics back at the castle, this wasn¡¯t a simple cleave he could just deflect. The angle forced a hit no matter what ¨C redirect it up, and he¡¯d take a strike to the chest, leaving the heart and lungs at risk; send it down, and it¡¯d smack into his legs.


    Might as well go with the lesser poison.


    He channeled mana into a barrier, deflecting downward. His shield flared blue-white in the darkness as he simultaneously reinforced his body ¨C bones, muscles, organs ¨C diverting every drop of mana he could spare into structural integrity. The brigandine would handle the edge, but blunt force trauma was still on the table. Newton¡¯s laws still applied, even if this bastard seemed exempt.


    The Vampire Lord''s blade connected.


    For a fraction of a second, the barrier held ¨C then shattered like glass in the face of sabot. The sword¡¯s arc continued unimpeded, slamming into Cole¡¯s legs like a bat cracking against a fastball. He¡¯d braced for impact, but bracing only went so far. The moment of contact sent a shockwave through his thighs, stripped away control, and before he could compensate, his stance was gone.


    His lower body wrenched sideways first, torn out from under him before his torso could follow. The angle of the hit didn¡¯t send him into a spin ¨C it whipped him, full-force, into an arc he had no say in. Hell, it was as if he¡¯d just been hooked by a speeding car.


    He was weightless for a split second, tumbling and at the mercy of his momentum. Then, he noticed the thick, hardwood tree.


    The trunk barely even slowed him down. The impact cracked through his legs and spine before the bark itself gave way. The sensation of breaking something that solid barely had time to register. The tree had completely folded under the force, splintering apart as he tore through it.


    Then the ground caught him. The landing did a piss-poor job at redistributing his momentum. His back skidded first, tearing a trench through the forest floor before he came to an unceremonious stop, pain searing through every ounce of his body.


    Thank God, the brigandine had prevented his legs from getting outright severed, but it hadn¡¯t stopped the force. Every nerve screamed. His femurs felt like they¡¯d been subjected to JNI ¡®interrogation¡¯, muscles locking up in pure shock response. His back was one continuous throb where he¡¯d slammed through the tree, and his arms barely responded when he tried to move. Beneath the armor, he already knew he was bruising up, capillaries ruptures and tendons strained to the edge.


    His body dragged him down, mind whispering to stay down and rest ¨C even for a small moment. Through the haze, the Vampire Lord had already pivoted to its next target: Elina.


    She sidestepped with barely a finger¡¯s breadth to spare, unleashing a wave of fire as she retreated toward Mack. The flames washed over the demon¡¯s armor without visible effect.


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    The creature responded with impossible speed, sword whirling in an arc that Elina barely ducked under. The missed swing sliced a tree behind her, cutting though at least a few feet of wood with almost no visible resistance.


    She backpedaled, already casting another spell ¨C this time pulling moisture from the air that crystallized into ice shards. They smashed against the Vampire Lord¡¯s helmet, shattering into fragments intended to obscure its vision.


    Mack seized the opening, firing another shot while raising dozens of stone spikes between them and the threat, forcing the Vampire Lord back. But for how long? Seconds?


    They were up against a level 17 demon, one with untold decades, perhaps even centuries, of experience.


    On paper, the numbers suggested an advantage. Mack was Level 18, Elina 16. That should have been enough. But raw power didn¡¯t mean anything in a fight where qualitative superiority outweighed quantitative progressions. This wasn¡¯t a game with neat scaling mechanics.


    Mack could probably punch above his Level with modernized magic, but his spellcasting repertoire remained limited. And experience? He had mere weeks of using magic. Combat experience from back home didn¡¯t translate cleanly either. They¡¯d fought plenty of asymmetrical engagements, but those were against humans with human limitations.


    As for Elina, she carried Slayer Elite training, but her specialization wasn¡¯t geared toward direct action. She obviously wasn¡¯t a stranger to combat, but her skillset leaned toward support ¨C force multipliers, sustainment, battlefield control. In any other fight, invaluable. Here? Against a close-quarters executioner with centuries of bloodshed hardcoded into its instincts? Less so.


    And the Vampire Lord knew it.


    It shifted its stance, flooding its blade with a sickly green glow. It lunged after Elina, swinging the blade in a diagonal sweep.


    Elina read it early. The blade never touched her, and thank God it didn¡¯t. The first tree in its path ceased to exist in one swing ¨C obliterated, not cut. Splinters sprayed outward like shrapnel in a blast radius, shattering against the next trunk behind it. The shockwave carried through, cleaving clean fractures up the wood¡¯s length, sending the second tree groaning to the ground. A third barely withstood the residual force, almost uprooted.


    Mack fired the moment the Vampire Lord committed to its swing, timing the shot to land while the creature was mid-motion. A clean hit, center mass. At least, it should¡¯ve been, if only the brain worked faster than the hands.


    Whether it was the delay between visual processing and mortal reaction times, the lag between decision and muscle execution, or the time lost between neurons firing and the trigger finger obeying, it didn¡¯t matter. That fraction of a second was all it needed.


    By the time Mack¡¯s muzzle flashed, the Vampire Lord had already flashed right, meters away from where the shot should¡¯ve connected.


    The Vampire Lord was beyond their ability to match individually. It certainly had them beat in strength and speed, but it wouldn¡¯t be able to keep it up forever. Even the best fighters had limits; reaction times weren¡¯t infinite. Unpredictability, numbers, pressure from every direction ¨C that was their edge.


    They just needed to break its rhythm, immobilize it for long enough for them to overwhelm it with firepower.


    And, as much as he hated it, he had the perfect opportunity: use himself as bait. Still on the ground, placed his hand on the ground. The soil softened beneath his fingers, shifting under the surface ¨C liquid where it counted, solid where it mattered. The top layer remained untouched, undisturbed.


    Wrapping up with his trap, he exhaled through the pain and reached for his vest, grabbing two vials. He steeled himself as he popped the green one. Can¡¯t be that bad, right? Down the hatch it went.


    The potion hit harder than he¡¯d expected. Heat flooded throughout his body, concentrating on his thighs. That healing magic Elina had performed on Mack on day one looked painful for good reason ¨C it was painful. Everything that snapped back into place, all the forced regeneration ¨C he felt it all. It was a full-body reset, in all its visceral immediacy.


    His fingers twitched, still locked in a phantom recoil from the shock. Shit, he¡¯d even go as far as calling this the best torture method he¡¯d ever seen, expense aside. It hurt like hell, left no evidence, and could be performed in perpetuity.


    But at least it made the blue¡¯s bitterness a lot more tolerable. Mana rushed back into his system ¨C not full, but it was enough for now.


    Cole forced himself upright, fighting through the pained protests of damaged muscle. Time to get back in the fight. ¡°Pin it down!¡±


    The Vampire Lord snapped its head toward him in the middle of its swing. It gave up on Elina instantly, already halfway to Cole by the time his brain had caught up to the demon¡¯s movements.


    As terrifying as it was, the demon¡¯s shifted priorities were exactly what he wanted to see ¨C predator instinct, weaponized against itself. The moment its boots hit the soil, Cole willed the earth to soften. The surface layer collapsed beneath the Vampire Lord, mud swallowing its weight and tendrils snapping up to lock it in place.


    For a brief moment, it worked. Cole fired his weapon.


    But in that same instant, its sword whipped down in a clean arc. Mud blasted outward, moving fast enough to threaten him. Cole raised a barrier and worked his bolt, but the demon had already fallen back from the failing pit, rebounding off the nearest hardwood trunk.


    Elina must have seen what Cole tried to do. She immediately liquefied the ground beneath herself, creating a moat of mud that spread outward. Mack caught on just as fast, transmuting the soil in a ten-foot radius around himself into a similar quagmire. If the Vampire Lord wanted to flash-step near any of them, it wouldn¡¯t have any solid ground to work with.


    The demon wasn¡¯t dumb enough to wade through the mud. It continued its maneuver ¨C kicking off a trunk with a force that splintered bark like cheap plywood before vanishing into the void above. Between the deepening evening and the dense canopy, it was as good as gone. Well, not gone per se, but invisible.


    It was bound to come back for another strike. And if it wanted to play the vertical game...


    ¡°Bird spikes ¨C trees!¡± Cole called to Mack, voice scraping his throat raw. Mack started channeling magic immediately. Earth coated the bark of the surrounding trees, jagged spikes spearing branches, ripping the canopy into a gauntlet. It wasn¡¯t a total lockdown, though ¨C Mack left gaps, little safe havens to force the demon to jump where they wanted instead of where it pleased.


    Leaves and branches twitched overhead, inaudible over the gunshots coming from Miles and Ethan in the distance. It moved, but hadn¡¯t come down yet. Mud or spikes?


    It chose the latter. It launched itself toward one of Mack¡¯s safe zones ¨C predictable. Overconfident, too, and not without reason. Speed like this didn¡¯t need to be unpredictable; the creature had raw, overwhelming velocity, and it was no doubt proud of it. It dashed like the very idea of being countered never factored in.


    And sure, maybe they couldn¡¯t hit it with their rifles, but that didn¡¯t matter. Cole already had the answer. Mana surged, a fireball taking shape. Then, he multiplied the layers of air, bringing it closer to Mack¡¯s concussive blast ¨C a magic upgrade to a flashbang. Eyes and ears that sharp? Bet they¡¯d love a sensory meltdown.


    The demon hit its peak, mid-air and trajectory locked ¨C a perfect target. Cole let it fly.


    The spell burst loose, air snapping into a blinding flare and a thunderclap that punched through the trees, loud enough to make his own skull hum like a tuning fork despite the ear protection.


    The effect was immediate, pressure front slamming into the Vampire Lord. The blast caught it square, a brutal shove against its vaulting momentum, pushing it slightly off course. It had wings, mere rudders steering the leap, but what good were they with no control left to guide? The flare must have seared retina-deep, its internal balance fucked, and those oh-so-vaunted senses buckled ¨C crumpled like cheap tin under the barrage. No silver bullets or holy water handy, but this worked a damn sight better.


    The demon didn¡¯t recover. It slammed into the hardwood it¡¯d aimed to spring from, bark splintering under the impact ¨C a predator stripped of its bearings, speed and strength be damned. Still overpowered, sure, but flailing now, a free kill if anything in this busted world came that easy.


    Cole didn¡¯t wait for it to figure itself out ¨C neither would Mack and Elina. All three of them opened fire.

 Chapter 28: Flash and Thunder

    The demon twisted mid-air, reacting faster than it should¡¯ve managed. It flared its wings, one lagging like a busted rudder, leg jerking to compensate ¨C flashing grace it shouldn¡¯t have had, not after that blast. One of their shots caught the right wing, ripping through the membrane near the base; didn¡¯t sever it, but purple blood punched out with a satisfying tear he could almost taste. The second landed better ¨C plugged the left leg above the knee, gouging flesh and scraping bone. Not a kill, but enough to make it pay. The last went wide, damn near hitting a tree instead, bark splintering off to the side.


    Damn. Cole worked his bolt. One astray he¡¯d curse in a perfect world, but two out of three was more than this beast had earned.


    It hit the ground hard, leg buckling and eyes flashing up at him. Its eyes flashed up, slits of pure rage boring into him, no hint of that previous swagger. The kingly glare had vanished; all that remained was the raw, lashing kick of a pissed-off animal. Hell, a cornered animal.


    Blood pooled beneath, wing sagging like a kite snapped mid-flight. Yeah, it was still upright, still lethal, but its sheen was cracking. They had a foothold that they could press.


    Cole had the bolt halfway home, lining up the other knee, when it shifted onto its good leg. Then it was gone. No flash-step fanfare ¨C just one brutal, upward surge, launching off that single limb with a force that split the ground where it kicked free. The canopy gulped it down before the rifle¡¯s click echoed back, leaves rustling as it vanished. Gone, just like that.


    That wasn¡¯t a retreat, not with that look. It wasn¡¯t just taking a breather, either.


    Cole¡¯s neck prickled. He didn¡¯t need a mana detection spell to feel the overpowering wave of magic that just blanketed the forest. The clouds started to churn overhead, purple hues concentrating in multiple locations above. Between that and the tingling buzz on his skin, it was obvious what the Vampire Lord was going for.


    Mack¡¯s shout beat him to it. ¡°LIGHTNING!¡±


    Cole glanced down at the mud underfoot ¨C wet, treacherous, a conductor begging to fry him if a bolt got close. One stray hit and he¡¯d be figuratively and literally cooked, armor notwithstanding. Of course, it was Slayer Elite gear, jam-packed with high-end defensive enchantments, but he¡¯d have to be out of his mind to bank on that. Or be out of options. Neither applied ¨C not yet, anyway.


    One solution stood out: hardening the mud. He could dehydrate it here, insulate himself on an island of clay, but that meant abandoning the buffer beyond ¨C surrendering a hard-won edge. That soft patch out there, protecting him from the bastard¡¯s speed, was too good to let go.


    Sustaining both ¨C an overhang of clay and a moat of mud ¨C tempted him; shit, he could almost taste the triumph of pulling it off. No, that wasn¡¯t his forte. That sense of ambition was as faulty as it had been against those Mimics. He¡¯d considered riding a barrier out the window then ¨C float down on it like some magic carpet. It was too far-fetched though; too much of a gamble on skills he hadn¡¯t honed yet.


    Fuck it. Best stick with prudence.


    He yanked the water from the ground beneath him, clay hardening fast. He raised the dried formation into a sloped overhang above him ¨C thick, angled, and ready to take the hits.


    Mack matched him, shaping his own clay bunker. Elina followed suit across the way, finishing hers just as the sky broke.


    Bolts tore down, white hot and booming. One slammed Cole¡¯s overhang, the crack damn near about to split his ears despite his hearing protection. Another ripped into a tree twenty feet out, completely shattering it. Wood shards blasted outward like shrapnel. Their barriers caught the worst of it, flaring blue-white as wood chunks pinged off it, some sizzling where sap met heat.


    For an injured demon, it sure as hell didn¡¯t act injured. Just his luck to face off against some nameless king pulling out a second phase ¨C hopefully hadn¡¯t healed itself. Even worse, this was real life. No respeccing any ¡®builds¡¯, no luxury of respawning. If the Vampire Lord had yet another phase waiting, they¡¯d be completely fucked. They needed to end this as fast as possible, but how? It hadn¡¯t even shown itself yet.


    Cole edged to the overhang¡¯s lip. He squinted through the lightshow for the Vampire Lord. Bad move ¨C a bolt jagged sideways, bending like it smelled his armor, and smashed his barrier into a shower of sparks. The force shoved him back with nothing more than an afterimage seared into his eyes. ¡°Oh, shit.¡±


    He ducked deeper under the clay dome, back pressed against hardened earth. Visibility was a joke ¨C the overhang that kept him from getting fried now blocked half his field of view. The lightning transformed everything into a strobing nightmare ¨C flash, dark, flash, dark ¨C each bolt casting wild shadows that twisted the forest into a living Rorschach test. Cole couldn''t track shit through that chaos, let alone accurately aim at a speed blitzer.


    It seemed like two out of three wasn¡¯t enough after all. Just like Icarus, they¡¯d gotten that rush of success. Now, here they were, watching their own wax melt ¨C plummeting, hoping they wouldn¡¯t get fully burnt.


    Lightning hammered down without letting up, bolts smashing into the earthen overhang one after another. Each hit jarred Cole, rattling his teeth, threatening to split the damn thing apart. He pushed mana into it, reinforcing the structure as much as he could. His spine began to protest ¨C his reserves were running thin.


    He reached for his vest pockets, pulled a mana potion, and knocked it back. At this point, the bitterness seemed less like a stranger and more like an acquaintance. It was still unpleasant, of course ¨C perfect for monetizing if he could ever figure out a recipe to remedy the taste a bit ¨C but it did its job, and that was enough for now.


    The only concern? He didn¡¯t know how long it¡¯d last for. Would it be enough to outlast the Vampire Lord? He had three more vials to spare, could drag this out, maybe. But it wasn¡¯t a lock. The storm sure looked like it¡¯d be mana-intensive, but so did their modernized fireballs. What if the bastard barely tapped its well for this? Or siphoned the ambient mana to power its spell? No way to know, and that lack of intel dug at him.


    He needed something. Move the overhang? Keep it sliding, use it as mobile cover? Sure, he could, but then what? Roam blind with no target? Huddle up with Mack and Elina, make it easy for that thing to carve them all at once? Bad idea.


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    The bastard was up there somewhere, calling these shots. To consistently slam into their defenses, it must be perched with a clear line of sight to all three of them. Not an exact fix, but that still cut the possibilities down hard ¨C had to be above, eyes on them, not skulking off in the brush. Hell, a rough guess was plenty. They¡¯d knocked it off its throne once before with concussive fireballs, blasted its senses into a tailspin and sent it crashing down dazed. Same move could crack this stalemate; just unload a barrage into the canopy and force it out where they could see it bleed. He readied a flame, applying his first layer of air over it.


    He tensed to signal the play to the others, but a lightning bolt sliced under Elina¡¯s overhang, viciously precise. It slammed the ground barely a foot from her. She jerked back quickly, but that sliver of distraction was the respite the enemy needed.


    The Vampire Lord plunged through her roof like a guillotine, smashing the structure apart. Even with its leg banged up, it still moved like it owned the fight.


    Just his fucking luck, alright. It just had to jump the gun. Cole lined up the shot, but Elina was too close, right in the mix. One slip, and he¡¯d tag her instead. Mack held his fire as well.


    She¡¯d been forced alone, but thank God her reaction speed outpaced theirs. She¡¯d willed the ground underneath the demon to slide back ¨C trying to make it slip. It stepped through, easy, like it knew the move. Simultaneously, her rifle cracked, a shot ripping out before he could blink ¨C too fast to see where it went. A purple splatter suggested a hit, at least, but it didn¡¯t deter the Vampire Lord in the slightest. It continued with its swing, contact inevitable.


    Elina had prepared for the worst. She¡¯d already brought up her other hand, bracer rising to block the swing. She kept going, though ¨C earth wall in front, a barrier right behind, and her bracer set to catch the rest. Three layers, solid, thrown up in a heartbeat.


    Too bad reaction speed and intelligence didn¡¯t buy her a damn thing against that blade. It tore through the earth wall like it was fragile pottery, split the barrier with a flash that stung Cole¡¯s eyes, and smashed into her bracer with a clang that hit like a gunshot. The force was obscene ¨C blasted Elina off her feet and sent her flying back at a speed that blurred her into a streak, like some anime brawler launched across the screen.


    She vanished from sight, cutting through the forest ¨C crashing into trees just as he had and snapping trunks with sharp cracks that faded into a low rumble. A dust cloud billowed up about fifty meters out, swallowing whatever she¡¯d hit, and Cole¡¯s chest seized. He¡¯d just have to trust she was alright; focus on making the demon pay.


    But he didn¡¯t even get a second to chase that thought. The Vampire Lord swiveled right out of the strike and closed half the gap in an instant, still darting faster than anything that wounded should move.


    Cole gripped his rifle and fired, missing. It smelled blood and came charging ¨C fine, let it try. He smelled blood too.


    The Vampire Lord ate the distance ¨C twenty meters down to ten in a blink, a shadow hauling ass straight for him. Cole¡¯s gut clenched; he¡¯d be lying if he said it didn''t scare the shit out of him ¨C that baleful aura, that sword, all screaming death. Still, the tighter it closed, the better his odds stacked. It hit five meters, just one more step from a swing that could lop his head off. Close enough. He dropped the hammer.


    He spawned a conical barrier right above its head and flung his flashbang spell, detonating it right between its head and the cone. The concussive force had nowhere to go but down. The shockwave slammed into it like a thunderclap forged in a furnace. Pressure. Heat. Sound. All forced into a brutal, focused eruption, rattling bone, frying its hypersensitive eardrums, and blinding it with a burst of searing white light.


    It stopped its lunge, brought down in a moment of pure, suffocating agony. Perfectly immobilized.


    Cole bent the surrounding earth to his will, mana ripping out. The hardened mud exploded upward in a jagged cone spiking up, not just around the Vampire Lord but into it. He knew the bastard could smash stone ¨C hell, it¡¯d probably rip through this clay without breaking a sweat. But like with any other living creature, such a maneuver assumed its muscles had the freedom to move. Strength meant nothing when the body had nowhere to put it.


    Raw power wouldn¡¯t break it. Brute force only wedged the creature in tighter ¨C made its own muscle resistance fight against itself. The good knee, though? Cole left it pinned but jutting out, trapped tight in the cone¡¯s grip, exposed just enough for a clear shot ¨C a bullseye he¡¯d planned from the jump.


    Cole snapped his rifle up and fired point-blank, right into that good knee. The shot cracked loud, bullet ripping through cartilage and bone with a wet, satisfying snap. Purple blood sprayed out, coating its earthen prison.


    The Vampire Lord let out a scream ¨C first crack in its visage all damn fight, a sound so sweet it hit Cole like a tune he¡¯d been dying to hear, and he soaked it up. An uncontrollable grin spread across his lips as he called out, ¡°Mack, light the motherfucker up!¡±


    Mack squared up, feet planted like he was daring the ground to buck him off, and Cole knew he wasn¡¯t playing soft anymore. No trace of that cautious first test, all the shackles taken off ¨C this was full throttle, mana pouring out like he¡¯d opened a vein.


    First came the ignition: a furious knot of flame compressed under double barriers, the front tapering into a razor-sharp cone. It started a lurid yellow, growing brighter as Mack added in more air, topping it off with compacted shards of earth. But as he poured more mana into it, something changed. The flame¡¯s center flared from orange to a brilliant white-hot corona, then finally stabilized into a pulsing blue at the edges, like the heart of a star ¨C complete combustion.


    Holy shit. Mack was going supernova.


    As Cole fell back, he slammed more mana into the earth, spiking another jagged rock into that bloodied knee ¨C just for good measure. The brutal spike pinned it deeper, earning another roar of pain from the demon.


    Mack¡¯s entire form trembled, but his focus never wavered. He shaped the outer barrier into a cone and added a small aperture in the back to vent the pressurized air ¨C just like a missile. The rock fragments spun in an orbit, barely hanging on. Even from a few paces away, Cole could feel the air heat up, a flame so powerful that the heat leaked through the barriers. It sweltered and turned the surrounding air into a shimmering mess, like he was standing next to an open furnace.


    The Vampire Lord¡¯s voice cut through then, uttering its first words. They came out as not some feral snarl, but with a cold, refined fury that fit its throne.


    ¡°Behold what filth appears before the Vampire Lord K¡¯hinnum ¨C mortals presuming authority over a vessel of the Demon Lord¡¯s will. Through what arrogance do you challenge powers that have devoured civilizations when your ancestors still dwelled in caves? Your feeble resistance offends Their vigil, not mine alone. You think yourselves victorious, goaded by lies of salvation, beguiled into complacency by the hubris of your Heroes. I say unto you, neither shield shall guard you, nor prayer deliver you, nor love preserve you when the Legion comes to claim what belongs to the Darkness ¨C when I return to exact the wages of your sins and feast upon your despair!¡±


    Cole raised a magic barrier ¨C hopefully strong enough to shield them from Mack¡¯s spell. ¡°Then we¡¯ll just keep sending you back where you belong.¡± He gave Mack a nod.


    Mack finished forming his spell, the fireball culminating in a blue flash. ¡°Burn in hell.¡±

 Chapter 29: Nothing but Ashes

    By the time Mack released it, the warhead ¨C because that was what it resembled now ¨C shot forward with a supersonic crack. The blazing tip cut the darkness like a lance of plasma. The air behind it screamed, a high, metallic wail as it blitzed toward the Vampire Lord. Cole braced, narrowing his eyes against the glare.


    The strike was vicious. Light flared ¨C bright enough to bleach the forest white ¨C and the boom swallowed every sound. The barriers burst, flinging molten shrapnel in a tight cone, ripping into the bastard¡¯s spot. Cole¡¯s own barrier flared bright blue, cracking under the shockwaves as dust and flame roared past. It barely weathered it, holding just enough to shield them. Even Warren probably couldn¡¯t match this ¨C at least, not with the enhanced fireballs they used as standard.


    When the light finally faded, Mack staggered back, smoke curling off his outstretched palms. Any illusions of restraint were gone, replaced with a fusion of modern design and raw magic power. It was basically a Tomahawk cruise missile dropped right on the money, all of its energy focused into one point rather than over a large radius.


    Dust hung thick as the blast echo faded, settling over a crater where the trapped bastard K¡¯hinnum once stood. Mack¡¯s spell had lanced down hard, spearing the demon dead-on. The impact left a pit ¨C deep enough to swallow a truck, edges fused into glassy slag where the dirt had melted. Wide as a couple guys laid end-to-end, the bottom was a black smear. There was nothing left of the demon. Nothing but ashes fine enough to sift through his fingers and tiny beads of slagged metal. Hell of a way to go, honestly ¨C the spell¡¯s plasma jet must¡¯ve punched through like a hot knife, an explosive kick turning the rest to dust.


    The damage fanned out tight behind and beneath the hit. Stumps stuck up a few steps back, trunks flash-burned to carbon facing the blast and roots popped loose like the ground got tired of holding them. Shrapnel had tagged the wood, molten earth chunks stuck in there. The cone of ruin stretched ¨C wider at the top, shallower along the drop ¨C before the downward slam buried the energy. Beyond that, trees stood, bark scratched from stray fragments but still upright.


    No surprise it shredded that fancy armor. Whatever enchantments it may have had, there was almost nothing that could¡¯ve taken a hit like that. Those metal flecks were all that exotic alloy had left to say, melted and spat out as the spell drilled down. Cole had seen HEAT shells do less; this was a step up. A plasma-enhanced thermobaric penetrator, if he had to identify it.


    The glare faded, and Cole let his barrier drop, the light blue shimmer winking out. Fatigue slammed into him like a truck ¨C knees wobbling, arms heavy, mana reserves scraping bottom. Every muscle screamed for a breather, but he shoved it down. No time to sit on it.


    He secured and slapped on his Nods before bolting toward Elina¡¯s last vector, Mack following right behind him. Screw the fatigue; if she was down, he¡¯d drag her out himself.


    His chest tightened, and not just from the run. His mind wouldn¡¯t shut up about scenarios: what if she¡¯d hit too hard? Tree trunk at speed could snap her neck; bad angle might¡¯ve crushed her chest. He shook the thoughts. It was dumb to spiral like that. He forced himself to compartmentalize ¨C he had to simply keep moving on and just sort the rest later.


    Cole pushed past a busted tree trunk and caught a flicker. He paused first to scan the surroundings, then removed his Nods from covering his face as he approached. There she was, helmet on the ground and body propped against a dirt hump she¡¯d shaped, half-slumped but alive. Thank God. ¡°Elina!¡±


    Elina sat up. ¡°Ah, my knight in... muddied armor,¡± she groaned. ¡°Have you dispatched that fiend at last?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Cole said, scanning her injuries. ¡°Well, Mack did.¡±


    The Vampire Lord¡¯s blade had tagged her good ¨C her Slayer Elite armor had suffered a deep gash across the forearm, plating split like a tin can under a sledgehammer. That fancy gear didn¡¯t do shit against a hit that hard; the edges curled outward, red blood crusting where it¡¯d punched through to flesh.


    One hand glowed over the slashed forearm, knitting it back together. Two vials lay spent beside her, green for healing, blue for mana, their corks scattered like afterthoughts. She¡¯d stitched herself up fast.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Cole asked.


    ¡°Tolerably whole,¡± she replied, straining her voice slightly. ¡°A gash and some bruising. I¡¯ve staunched the worst, though I confess the pain is a rather persistent wretch.¡± She winced, but quickly hid it under a smile.


    Cole exhaled. OTAC¡¯s best healer wouldn¡¯t be smiling if it were something truly serious. Still, they weren¡¯t out of the woods just yet. He glanced at Mack, who had just arrived.


    Mack didn¡¯t need a word. He slid in, AFAK already out as he crouched down by Elina. ¡°Gimme the rundown. Where¡¯d you get hit?¡±


    ¡°Oh, wherever did it not? I¡¯ve far too many indignities to catalogue, but the most pressing?¡± Elina shifted, grimacing as she cradled her slashed forearm. ¡°My arm, here ¨C a wretched gash, healing as we speak. I suffered cracked ribs and a twisted leg when the brute hurled me through the trees; I¡¯ve mended those already. The rest of my aches, I¡¯ve dulled them with a healing potion. Yet this arm lags, and standing is... a trial.¡±


    Mack nodded. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s check your work.¡± He pushed the edge of her brigandine¡¯s collar aside, finding the space to check her pulse. ¡°115. 110, dropping. Good. The magic must be smoothing it out. Okay, now ¨C deep breath.¡±


    The buckles of her brigandine were already loose ¨C she must¡¯ve unfastened them to diagnose and heal herself. Mack ran his hand through the opening. ¡°No crepitus, no wobble ¨C ribs are solid. Good work. Leg next.¡±


    He tapped her knee, then slid down to the ankle, testing the range of motion. ¡°Just stiff. Weight on it?¡±


    ¡°Ha, scarcely. It bears me yet, though ¨C ugh, it dares protest,¡± she sighed. ¡°I shall mend it anon, once this arm is set right, should the potion not suffice by then.¡±


    Mack nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s see that gash.¡± He lifted her wrist, slow, until she flinched. ¡°Clean job ¨C cut¡¯s closing fast. I ain¡¯t got shit to do. Muscle¡¯s still torn, though; flexor¡¯s weak.¡±


    After registering Elina¡¯s nod, he summoned a small orb of light near her eyes. ¡°Pupils match, but damn slow to shrink ¨C concussion. Dizzy? Sick?¡±


    ¡°Not in the least,¡± she shot back, firm through the wince, before faltering. ¡°Well... perhaps a trifle unsteady. Nothing more pressing than my vexation and being weary of this ordeal.¡±


    ¡°Another potion for good measure, then?¡± Mack suggested.


    ¡°Yes, that would be prudent.¡± Elina pulled a healing potion from the pouch attached to her belt and downed it.


    Cole relaxed. She¡¯d be good to go soon ¨C maybe not perfect, but combat-capable. The mental scenarios that had been cycling through his head all faded into background static, replaced with literal static as his comms garbled to life.


    ¡°Mercer, you copy?¡±


    That was Ethan¡¯s voice. ¡°Solid copy, Walker.¡±


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ A. I¡¯m guessing that blast was you guys. That thing dead or what?¡±


    Cole found himself chuckling. It only just now started to hit ¨C the fact that they¡¯d taken down a level 17 demon, a Vampire Lord. ¡°Yeah, we smoked it. Well... Temporarily, at least. Mack¡¯s handiwork ¨C cooked up something new.¡±


    ¡°Temporarily?¡± Ethan asked.


    Knowing how things worked in this world, the demon probably wasn¡¯t giving some vengeful last words ¨C ¡®return¡¯ had sounded like it had been used in the most literal sense.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fill you in when you get here. Gonna have to confirm with Elina. Y¡¯all done over there?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, en route to you now. ETA sixty seconds,¡± Ethan replied.


    ¡°Solid copy.¡±


    The brush crashed a minute later ¨C Miles half-dragging a limping Ethan, left arm hooked under Ethan while his own right shoulder dangled in the wind.


    Mack turned his head toward the commotion. ¡°Damn, the fuck happened to you guys?¡±


    ¡°Shoulder¡¯s popped outta joint, Ethan¡¯s legs took a helluva hit,¡± Miles said, raising two more earthen chairs before plopping down on one. ¡°Found that third Nevskor ¨C pulled up on us, clean ambush. Tough bastard, but we waxed ¡®em ¨C three Nevskors, all the goblins. Burned through our potions doin¡¯ it, though.¡±


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    Ethan nodded, wincing as he eased off his feet. ¡°Tail slammed my shins. You¡¯d think messing around with scooters as a kid would¡¯ve trained me. Fuck, can¡¯t even walk straight.¡±


    Mack grunted, stepping to Miles first. ¡°Hold tight, Walker.¡± He gripped Miles elbow, steadying the arm. ¡°On three, yeah?¡±


    Miles braced. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°One.¡± He yanked hard, popping it back with a sharp crack.


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ hell, Mack!¡± Miles hissed.


    ¡°Oh, just drink your potions already.¡± Mack fished four vials from his pack ¨C two green, two blue ¨C tossing Miles a pair, then handing Ethan the other. He turned to Elina, mid-flexing her patched-up wrist. ¡°You got any juice left?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve a touch remaining. Should suffice with this,¡± Elina said, pulling a blue vial from her pouch and drinking. ¡°Now, let us see these wounds righted.¡±


    Cole scanned their surroundings as Elina approached Ethan.


    She crouched over Ethan¡¯s shins, looking up at him. ¡°I¡¯ve mana to dull the bite, should you wish it.¡±


    ¡°Also got a few Actiq pops left,¡± Mack offered. He reached into his pack and pulled one out, holding the scuffed orange stick up for Ethan to see. ¡°One of ten. Beats her spell, but it ain¡¯t like we can requisition these anymore. Your call.¡±


    Ethan hesitated slightly, but he knew the choice he needed to make ¨C even if it¡¯d hurt like a bitch. ¡°Fuck. Save ¡®em both and just get it over with,¡± he said, nodding at Elina to give her the go-ahead.


    ¡°Very well.¡± Elina unfastened the greaves, popping the clasps and sliding the damaged legwear off. The skin underneath was a mess ¨C deep purple bruising covered both shins, worse on the right where the bone had clearly fractured and pushed against muscle. ¡°Mack, hold him fast.¡±


    Mack worked the earth, molding rings that clamped Ethan¡¯s legs to the seat ¨C tight enough to lock him down, but not so hard it¡¯d chew into the damage.


    Elina held her hands over Ethan¡¯s battered shins and let a green glow overtake them. The light seeped into his flesh, muscles twitching and color creeping back as the damage patched up.


    Ethan gripped the seat hard, hissing through gritted teeth as the magic worked. Sweat beaded his forehead, but he held himself together ¨C one fist pounding the earthen chair once, twice, then holding rock-still as he forced himself through it.


    The process took thirty seconds, but the pain no doubt dilated it into an eternity. Cole had been there just minutes ago: flesh getting stitched up, every tug a reminder it wasn¡¯t done yet. And to think, he¡¯d gone through that without broken bones to deal with. He could only imagine how much worse this experience must¡¯ve been for Ethan.


    When Elina finally pulled her hands back, Ethan exhaled and sagged in his seat. ¡°So,¡± he grunted, ¡°the hell happened? How¡¯d you smoke that Vampire Lord?¡±


    Cole snorted. ¡°You missed the highlight of the month. Would¡¯ve blown your damn mind if you were there.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Miles¡¯ eyebrows went up.


    Cole nodded. ¡°Mhm. Turned out the bastard could flash-step, like in those animes; busted our asses trying to get him weak enough to trap him.¡± He jerked his chin at Mack. ¡°Tell ¡®em.¡±


    Mack shrugged, playing it off. ¡°Mercer here pinned it first ¨C hit it with a jacked-up flashbang spell and locked it in with a crazy earth trick. Gave me the shot.¡± Then the grin broke wide, humility torched. ¡°Upgraded my fireball into a... shit, I think it¡¯s a plasmaball now.¡±


    Elina stood, her smile sparked by the explanation alone. ¡°Plasma ball? Why, what a wonder that must be. Is it some sort of radiant flame?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, second that. The hell¡¯s that s¡¯posed to mean? Plasma as in... that high-temp sci-fi shit them aliens usually got?¡±


    Mack chuckled, leaning back on his heels. ¡°Damn near. Same modernized fireball we¡¯ve been tweaking, just with maxed out oxidation ¨C complete combustion, blue flame. Hits like a shaped charge, or maybe a thermobaric penetrator, just with plasma. Packed enough juice to slag the Vampire Lord ¨C bastard shoulda been dead for good, really. Except that prick didn¡¯t talk like it ¨C yapped about returning.¡±


    Ethan moved his legs, testing them. ¡°Yeah, Mercer mentioned that over comms. Killed it temporarily, or some shit. Like what, don¡¯t tell me it can resurrect?¡±


    ¡°Yes, unfortunately,¡± Elina sighed. ¡°The Kingdom knows not the full craft of it. Demons may revive their own ¨C important lieutenants, Vampire Lords such as this most oft, and lesser beasts when it suits. Though, we reason it is a costly process; time ever passes before they rise again.¡±


    ¡°Left us a name, too: K¡¯hinnum,¡± Cole added.


    ¡°Huh, so it has a name,¡± Ethan said.


    Cole scanned the forest once more, then glanced back at Ethan. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯ll continue on the way out. Your legs good enough?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ethan hauled himself up, testing his weight before shaking out his shins with a wince. ¡°Runes from ingress are that way ¨C trail¡¯s already set.¡±


    Cole reached out with his mana, feeling the faint magical signatures spreading out through the forest. There they were ¨C Ethan¡¯s markers glowing like distant beacons to anyone tuned to the right frequency. They¡¯d eliminated all the hostiles present, but there was no telling if reinforcements were inbound. The sooner they got back to Malcord and Nolaren, the better. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll take point. Let¡¯s extract.¡±


    Elina continued her explanation as they walked, ¡°We have, through considerable study of historical patterns, come to theorize that the Demon Lord himself may require several decades merely to reconstitute his form. And perhaps more decades time thereafter to rebuild his armies, hence the century that oft passes between each incursion.¡±


    Logically, that should favor humanity ¨C as long as the demons never adapted and humanity continued advancing in technology. But mankind hadn¡¯t reached that threshold yet, and the demons had proved themselves an intelligent threat, especially with that ambush when they had first arrived.


    ¡°So, you haven¡¯t yet found a way to put the demons down for good?¡± Mack asked.


    ¡°If only it were so easy.¡± Elina shook her head. ¡°Our doctrine, therefore, has since been to set loose our mightiest Heroes upon them. Sheer force drives the fiends deep into the Istraynian Wastes ¨C till some foul field turns our champions back.¡±


    ¡®Foul field¡¯ aside, that wasn¡¯t exactly inspiring news. So they¡¯d basically just kicked the can down the road for... centuries? Buying time but never solving the problem? Reminded him of every half-assed counterinsurgency he¡¯d ever seen.


    ¡°So the big shots are basically immortal? The ones they bother bringing back, anyway?¡± Ethan asked, on the same line of thought.


    ¡°Aye, save a single caveat,¡± Elina said, sidestepping a root. ¡°The Church¡¯s holy magic purges them. No return.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± Ethan replied. ¡°How does that work?¡±


    ¡°Holy magic ¨C our invocations ¨C it is that which purges a demon¡¯s root, its hold and being, clean from this world. Through pleas we call upon that intercession which first brought us our Heroes. So I hold, as any Redeemist might, for we profess that any true heart lifted in faith may wield it ¨C just as any soul might receive salvation.¡±


    ¡°Anyone, huh?¡± The excitement bled through Mack¡¯s voice. ¡°Not just locked to your Church mages? I¡¯ve got mana ¨C could I pull that off?¡±


    Elina hesitated in her response ¨C just a tad. ¡°Well, theoretically. The Lord heeds any soul that calls in earnest ¨C be it yours or another¡¯s, no priestly seal required. Yet rare it is, and none can truly fathom why. It may be the depth of one¡¯s faith, or the strength of mana, or some other condition, but the truth stays a riddle we¡¯ve not pierced. Indeed, King Alexander himself ¨C God rest his soul ¨C purged an archdemon with it, centuries past.¡±


    ¡°An archdemon?¡± Miles wondered. ¡°That¡¯s a helluva kill. If that¡¯s the case, then why ain¡¯t this standard issue?¡±


    ¡°No bar but the rarity,¡± Elina said, a faint shrug hinting at her own frustration. ¡°If we¡¯d had a dozen King Alexanders, we might have vanquished the demons centuries ago.¡±


    The foliage started to thin out just as they passed by the eighth rune. ¡°Edge of the forest,¡± Cole announced. He broke the treeline first, scanning the clearing beyond.


    Malcord¡¯s troops swarmed it, hauling stretchers from Kidry¡¯s perimeter. Limp bodies strapped down ¨C some twitching, others still as corpses ¨C lay in rough rows, tended to by what few medics they¡¯d brought from Nolaren.


    ¡°Shit...¡± Mack said, pausing. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Guessin¡¯ shit turned ugly while we were busy. C¡¯mon.¡± Cole led them toward the center of the commotion, where Malcord directed his men.


    Malcord spotted them and broke off, leaving things to his men. He stepped forward, voice low, as if he¡¯d been shouting for too long. ¡°Sir Heroes! Lady Elina! Right glad am I to see you hale. I presume you haven¡¯t been... possessed?¡±


    Cole stopped at the end of the stretcher line. ¡°No ¨C thank God, no. We wiped the forest clean. The goblin company, three Nevskors, and a Vampire Lord ¨C called himself K¡¯hinnum. If I had to guess, we probably killed the bastard before it had any time to possess us. What¡¯s your sitrep ¨C uh, the situation here?¡±


    Malcord¡¯s brow creased at ¡®sitrep¡¯, but the correction landed. ¡°The conflict ceased with remarkable suddenness, not long after a tremendous explosion from within the forest ¨C yon thunderclap that lit the sky.¡± He jerked his chin toward the trees, right where they¡¯d just came from.


    Cole followed his gaze. ¡°That tracks. That¡¯s about the time we killed K¡¯hinnum. But...¡±


    He turned as a stretcher passed close ¨C some poor bastard mumbling gibberish, eyes rolling wild, spit flecking his chin in a mess of syllables. Fingers twitched in unnatural jerks, like the nerves didn¡¯t know they were free. Just past him, three others slumped against an earthen couch ¨C one rocking back and forth, two sobbing hard. The only symptom they shared was a hollowness in their eyes, like whatever made them them had been scooped out and left behind.


    ¡°What happened to them?¡±


    ¡°It appears the demon¡¯s possession has already extracted a grievous toll upon some of Kidry¡¯s men. Their very essence...¡± He hesitated, jaw tightening. ¡°I fear some part of them remains ensnared within whatever fell realm the creature has drawn them to. I fear... I fear that this K¡¯hinnum¡¯s hold has ravaged them beyond repair.¡±


    Cole watched another stretcher pass. The soldier on it stared upward, not blinking, not seeing. He was breathing, yeah, but he could say the same about coma patients.


    They¡¯d charged in, thinking they were saving Kidry¡¯s men. Instead, they¡¯d broken them. Not that they¡¯d had much choice ¨C leaving K¡¯hinnum alive would¡¯ve been so much worse.


    But Elina¡¯s words about holy magic hit hard. If the solution to demons was divine intervention, then maybe the same applied to their victims. Modern tactics, firepower, and even this world¡¯s magic hadn¡¯t been enough. These men needed something beyond what known medicine or healing could provide.


    Salvation, not just rescue. And right now, all Cole could do was pray for them.

 Chapter 30: Mettle

    The Kidry cleanup had been a slog ¨C rounding up Kidry¡¯s survivors while Elina patched Cole up. The potions had left a lingering soreness, a hot ache that flared every time she pressed down; like his body hadn¡¯t finished complaining about the rush job.


    When they finally collected all the survivors, it turned out that Malcord¡¯s carriages had hit capacity, so he¡¯d shuffled the extras into the shuttle with Cole¡¯s team. Elina spent the drive back to Nolaren checking them over, asking quiet questions ¨C names, fragments of what they¡¯d seen; anything to get answers on the spell they¡¯d managed to avoid becoming victims of.


    By the time they¡¯d finally pulled into base, Cole was ready to throw in the towel. But Lorresh hadn¡¯t given them a second to shake it off ¨C just marched them straight into the command center for a debrief that couldn¡¯t wait. Elina, meanwhile, had stayed behind to help with the survivors, planning to crash their debriefing halfway through.


    With Deputy Director Syndra Thallen patched in via the Scrying Pane, they¡¯d started from scratch, starting with Kidry¡¯s possession chaos. They covered everything that had happened since then ¨C from the forest demon hunt to Ethan and Miles taking down the Nevskors ¨C when Warren had barged in, mid-story, still patched up but moving like it didn¡¯t faze him. Elina had followed after him, face tight, probably because Warren wouldn¡¯t sit still long enough to heal right. They¡¯d shifted to the Vampire Lord takedown, and that¡¯s when Mack had jumped in, hands waving as he broke down his stunt.


    ¡°... pinned the bastard first, locking him down tight. That gave me time to compress the barriers, jack up the internal pressure, give it full combustion, and push the fireball past ignition into plasma.¡± Mack paused, hands stalled mid-swing. He must¡¯ve caught on that his account had flown right over their heads. ¡°Ahem. Anyway, the gist of it is that I upgraded the fireball spell into a plasmaball. Hit the Vampire Lord ¨C target neutralized. Or rather, vaporized. Nothin¡¯ left of it.¡±


    Cole smirked from his spot against the wall, arms crossed tight to keep his sore ribs from bitching too loud. But even if they did, it¡¯d no doubt be drowned out by Mack¡¯s braggadocio. He probably would¡¯ve framed that crater just to hang it right on their front staircase back home, the way he basked in the Celdornians¡¯ astonished looks.


    Hell, he¡¯d even gotten Warren, who¡¯d essentially forced his way into the debriefing halfway through. The man gave out a hearty laugh, his injuries either already healed by now or just straight up ignored. ¡°A fine strike. That spell bears use indeed. We¡¯d do well to set it in OTAC¡¯s handbook ¨C strengthen our men with it.¡±


    Warren¡¯s eyes flicked to the Scrying Pane, where Director Cullen¡¯s right-hand woman had sat, lurking quiet since the start of the debriefing.


    Deputy Director Syndra Thallen looked nothing like Cole had expected. For one, she was an elf ¨C evident by the pointed ears poking through from her high blonde ponytail. The tight pull of the hair accentuated her already sharp facial features, giving her that same intensity he¡¯d seen in some of the tougher intelligence officers back home. Second, she couldn¡¯t have been more than twenty-five by appearances, though he knew better than to trust that. The elves he''d met so far had all looked like they were in college, like Elina.


    She topped it all off with a strikingly elegant outfit ¨C some sort of Victorian suit, as far as Cole could tell.


    ¡°Lady Syndra, would you not concur?¡± Warren asked.


    ¡°Indeed, Sir Warren.¡± Syndra latched on fast, damn near burning with the same heat Warren was throwing, like she¡¯d been itching to stamp this as a W. Took her half a heartbeat to lean in and hell, she might have outdone Warren¡¯s smirk if she didn¡¯t keep it so locked down. But the flicker of excitement dropped as soon as it had appeared. ¡°However, I must inquire... Was holy magic employed at any juncture during your confrontation with this... K''hinnum, was it?¡±


    Cole had been waiting for that question. Shit, he¡¯d have asked it himself. No tactician with half a brain missed the difference between a temporary fix and a permanent solution. He shook his head, ribs complaining with a dull throb that made him regret the movement.


    ¡°No ma¡¯am. Conventional only.¡±


    Syndra sighed, and Cole recognized the sound immediately ¨C not quite disappointment, but more exasperation. He¡¯d heard that exact exhale in enough operations centers to last a lifetime. It was a noise he¡¯d made himself many times before, when the intelligence didn¡¯t match the mission parameters.


    ¡°A pity,¡± she said finally. ¡°Though scarcely unexpected, I suppose, given the circumstances at hand.¡±


    ¡°If I might venture, Deputy Director,¡± Malcord said, ¡°whilst permanently vanquishing the fiend would have been most ideal, the present outcome remains a victory yet worthy of commendation. The threat to Kidry has been neutralized, our enemy has revealed their hand, and those men not yet wholly claimed by possession have been spared further torment.¡±


    ¡°Quite so, Lieutenant,¡± Warren nodded. ¡°And let us not discount the tactical advantage gained in reducing K¡¯hinnum to naught but dust. Such thorough physical annihilation shall hinder their return. Weeks, perhaps as many as eight, but it is only a delay. Others of his kind may yet linger along our borders, or within our cities, waiting their turn.¡±


    Lorresh¡¯s shoulders relaxed at the delay estimate. A breather, however short-lived, was probably the best news the man had gotten since their mission to Kidry cleared, a lifeline he could clutch while the world stayed quiet. Cole got it ¨C the guy was green, so anything that pushed the next fight past tomorrow was probably a win in his book.


    Malcord shot that hope dead. ¡°I fear there¡¯s evidence to support your concern, Sir Warren. The Nevskors Kidry encountered ¨C fire magic proved wholly ineffective against them, quite as if they were impervious. Add to that the Armored Nevskor met by Sir Ethan and Sir Miles in combat, we¡¯ve seen three evolved Nevskors in sum.¡± He glanced at the men in question, who nodded confirmation.


    He then paused, steeling himself for a bombshell before continuing, ¡°It suggests to me that the Demon Lord is not merely rousing his forces, but conducting a reconnaissance in force. Unlike the grand assaults of old, it seems the demons have learned to probe our defenses... meticulously, at that. And with the possession and Mimics at his disposal, I daresay these fiends may even seek to undermine us from within ere their primary assault.¡±


    Syndra didn¡¯t react; her face stayed stone-cold neutral, like she¡¯d heard this a dozen times already. This was why they hadn¡¯t met her during their OTAC tour ¨C she¡¯d been locked in those ¡®demon evolution¡¯ meetings Warren had mentioned in passing.


    ¡°Y¡¯know,¡± Mack started, ¡°that Vampire Lord ¨C K¡¯hinnum ¨C he said something that keeps gnawing at me. Called us complacent, said we¡¯re leaning too hard on our Heroes. Now, I get that we¡¯re not exactly stacking up to historical heavy-hitters or whatever badasses the other countries have cooking, but still...¡± He shook his head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound much like trash talk; more like they¡¯ve got something up their sleeves.¡±


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    He didn¡¯t spell it out, but Cole could connect the dots. Was that just villain monologue bullshit, demons playing up their own hype? Or worse, did the Demon Lord actually have some trick to nullify the OP heroes who¡¯d kept humanity in the game this long ¨C something that made K¡¯hinnum confident enough to talk shit from the grave?


    ¡°A fair observation, Sir Mack,¡± Syndra replied. ¡°These matters, which merit weightier deliberation than present circumstance permits, shall be addressed upon your return to OTAC headquarters. Certain particulars demand a place of greater propriety, where the necessary discretion and measure may be afforded them.¡±


    Whatever Syndra knew, it wasn¡¯t getting aired with non-OTAC personnel in the room. Standard OPSEC ¨C compartmentalize intel, need-to-know basis only.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± she pivoted, ¡°if our enemy¡¯s intent is to be revealed, we shall find it in no word they utter, but in that which lingers when their presence is sundered ¨C possession. Dr. Gracer, what have you discerned of the afflicted?¡±


    The way Elina sighed told Cole everything he needed to know about the complexity of the situation. ¡°I have observed, after thorough examination, that the afflicted fall into three distinct categories ¨C those endowed with substantial mana reserves, those possessed of remarkable willpower, and the rare few blessed with both qualities in measure.¡±


    Cole had suspected as such. Glances toward the others suggested that they¡¯d also arrived at the same conclusion.


    ¡°Sergeant Gallestor,¡± she explained, ¡°by virtue of his standing at level ten, suffered effects least grievous of all. Indeed, he lent his aid in bearing the survivors, and thus did his case first draw my eye. Among Kidry¡¯s men, none held a greater mana capacity than he ¨C a circumstance which led me, in turn, to examine the others.¡±


    Elina paced around as she continued, ¡°Every man who yet retains his faculties possesses no less mana capacity than level five. Yet mana alone is no sure bulwark against such darkness. Corporal Hestorin, though standing but at level five, recovered with greater swiftness than Private Talmen, who stands at level six. The distinction lies in Hestorin¡¯s resolve, for which his comrades have apparently long held him in esteem. Those rare souls blessed with both abundant mana and steadfast will, such as Lieutenant Kest, retain scarce memory of their possession at all.¡±


    Mental fortitude as a defense mechanism. Figured. Some guys broke under interrogation in minutes; others held out for days on name, rank, and serial number alone. At this point, it probably wouldn¡¯t be much of a stretch to theorize that their resistance to possession reduced K¡¯hinnum¡¯s powers to just that aura. But... That still wasn¡¯t enough to explain how someone like that Gallestor guy or this Lieutenant Kest managed to get possessed in the first place, when it clearly failed against Ethan and Miles.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Cole interrupted. ¡°Ethan and Miles are both level ten, you know how close we got to the Vampire Lord. Closer proximity, similar power levels, but no possession. If high mana and strong will are the key factors here, then how¡¯d Gallestor and Kest get possessed at all? Doesn¡¯t add up.¡±


    Warren leaned forward. ¡°Perhaps Gallestor¡¯s account may reveal some information. What manner of torment did the man endure?¡±


    ¡°The Sergeant described a most wretched state: imprisoned behind his very eyes, witness to all yet master of nothing. His voice uttered words not his own, his hands performed deeds his heart opposed most fervently.¡± Elina¡¯s voice lowered. ¡°He struggled ceaselessly against this intrusion, earning for his efforts such pains as plague him still. When the sergeant mounted significant opposition, K¡¯hinnum would, as he relates it, ¡®tighten his grip,¡¯ inflicting such torment as would render lesser men insensible.¡±


    Christ. Conscious fucking paralysis. Sounded a lot like the depiction of zombies in tons of media ¨C unwilling and trapped in the body of a monster. The sergeant would probably be hearing that voice in his nightmares for years, if he even slept at all. But it wasn¡¯t an answer.


    Elina paused, sighing again. ¡°I confess, I know not the answer with certainty. Perhaps... perhaps it requires some manner of spell or ritual, that it had not the time to prepare against us? Or that the possession requires more than mere proximity ¨C contact, connection we have yet to discern.¡±


    ¡°Did they remember anything from before they got possessed?¡± Ethan asked.


    Mack caught on. ¡°Or a gap in their memories?¡±


    Elina nodded. ¡°Of gaps in recollection, several men did indeed speak ¨C moments lost to them, not only in the throes of possession, but even in the hours that preceded it. Lieutenant Kest recounted that he had taken an evening meal, only to wake thereafter amidst the fallen Kidry, at the very moment of his rescue. A strange matter indeed, for in all else, his memory remained wholly intact.¡±


    Evening meal, then nothing? Maybe that was it. ¡°Food, water ¨C did they get resupplied before this happened?¡± Cole pressed.


    ¡°Why yes,¡± Lorresh answered. ¡°Kidry¡¯s supplies ran thin. They¡¯d only recently sent men here to receive supplies. Standard provisions ¨C bread, cheese, dried meat, and water barrels.¡± He frowned slightly. ¡°Though the caravan arrived an hour later than scheduled, Kidry¡¯s men maintained proper communication via flare ¨C nothing particularly concerning at the time. We presumed normal delays on the road.¡±


    Miles pinned what Cole was already thinking. ¡°Hell, sounds like the caravan got bushwhacked halfway there. Reckon them boys didn¡¯t just stumble in late ¨C someone musta hit ¡®em between flares, possessed ¡®em, then poisoned the food.¡±


    Warren got the implication immediately. He didn¡¯t like it, that much was certain, but he understood it. ¡°Dr. Gracer, in your interviews, did all of Kidry partake of this resupply?¡±


    ¡°I... I believe so, yes,¡± Elina lowered her head. ¡°Though I confess I had not thought to inquire specifically about their meals before these attacks commenced.¡±


    Malcord shook his head, clearly troubled. ¡°If demons can now taint our provisions... oh, Lord, I¡¯d dare not theorize. Our cities...¡±


    Cole exhaled sharply. This was starting to feel familiar, though not in a way he liked. He¡¯d seen something like this before ¨C but only in that one video game his sister Macy liked playing. That old RTS, the one where a whole city needed to be purged just because someone got to their grain first. He remembered laughing about it back then, at how silly that kingdom had been for ignoring issues for so long. It wasn¡¯t so funny now.


    Malcord¡¯s revelation had even shocked Syndra; her poker-faced facade slipped, not by much, but enough to register. Whether she¡¯d been straight-up blindsided or had simply underestimated the severity, it landed all the same ¨C yet another weight pressing down on top of the demon evolution concerns already clogging OTAC¡¯s plate.


    ¡°I see,¡± she said, sounding like she was mentally triaging the mess. With a sigh, she decided on her orders. ¡°Then... I shall dispatch a detachment forthwith to secure the survivors and see them conveyed to OTAC, whereupon their study and treatment shall be afforded the utmost precedence. In the meantime, Captain Lorresh ¨C your men shall contain Kidry and its stores, sealing them against intrusion until such time as my Slayers and research division arrive.¡±


    Lorresh didn¡¯t look at all thrilled, but he knew what the alternatives could¡¯ve been, so he swallowed it. ¡°Understood, Deputy Director.¡±


    Syndra¡¯s gaze shifted to the rest of them. ¡°Gentlemen, Lady Elina, this briefing concludes. No longer is the Demon Lord¡¯s resurgence a matter of conjecture ¨C he is roused, and we stand ready. Sir Cole, your team has accomplished a commendable feat, particularly for what was originally a mere training charge. To have stood against a Vampire Lord and emerged victorious ¨C such an outcome is neither common nor lightly regarded. You have more than proved your mettle as heroes. Rest is warranted, and it shall be granted upon your return, after immediate matters have been settled.¡±


    Syndra¡¯s words hit like a dream. Cole had been waiting to finally experience Celdornian R&R. Shit, they all had.


    ¡°Once you¡¯ve taken your rest,¡± Syndra continued, ¡°your firsthand insights on strategy and the natural philosophies ¨C of science ¨C will inform our next course of action. Further instruction on magic will follow. See that you are prepared to receive it. Of course, the particulars remain at the discretion of the likes of Director-General Fernal, General Galahad, and our research leaders. Once provisions are in order, you and your units shall depart from Nolaren.¡±


    Hell, she didn¡¯t need to welcome them back twice. Cole gave her a nod. ¡°Understood, Lady Syndra. We¡¯re coming home.¡±

 Chapter 31: Best Laid Plans

    Though their so-called training had barely stretched beyond a day, Cole was more than ready to return to the elegance afforded by their OTAC privileges. The train ride back was, by every technical metric, identical to the first. It boasted the same aristocratic accommodations; the same deference from the staff. But experience was a cruel editor, and after the day they¡¯d had, familiarity had been rewritten into something else entirely.


    Comfort wasn¡¯t about the presence of luxury. It was about what came before. And what had come before? A ¡®training exercise¡¯ that had been anything but ¨C a crisis meant for seasoned Slayers, not freshly arrived personnel seeing their first goblin.


    In fairness, they had been given the basics. Verna had shown them the ropes, and they¡¯d honed their skills well. But that was just theory. Translating it into high-intensity combat against a Vampire Lord had been another matter entirely, and though they¡¯d made it through intact, it wasn¡¯t because of anything taught in a controlled environment.


    It was because they had real combat experience prior to this ¨C not entirely applicable to this world, perhaps, but more than enough to have properly conditioned them. Put anyone else in that situation and they would¡¯ve gotten cooked, much less gotten away with just cuts and bruises.


    The countryside zipped by like some medieval postcard reel. The cliche? was almost funny, considering everything they¡¯d just been through. Staring out the window, Cole flexed his side, testing where that blow had left its mark. His ribs had long since shut up thanks to his healing potions and Elina¡¯s work, but the knowledge of the strike lingered, a phantom reminder of mortality that no potion could quite erase.


    He glanced at Ethan, who had shifted in his seat again, probably dealing with the same phantom pain from where that Nevskor had nearly snapped his legs. Been there, done that ¨C the body remembered what the mind tried to forget.


    Even in rest, Warren didn¡¯t waste time. The majority of the trip had been dedicated to analysis, from the Vampire Lord¡¯s tactics to the techniques they used to bring it down. Something had the man spooked, and it sure as hell wasn¡¯t the Vampire Lord itself.


    As frightening as it was to face it, the demon probably ranked low on Warren¡¯s threat scale, which meant he must¡¯ve been spooked by its very existence. K¡¯hinnum¡¯s presence out on the field heralded the arrival of threats that wouldn¡¯t rank so low.


    They hit Alexandria after dark, getting whisked away to OTAC the moment they stepped foot off the train. Cole had really looked forward to a proper shower and actual sleep, but he¡¯d expected as much. Bureaucracy might slow down most operations, but not OTAC¡¯s.


    Cullen Fernal himself had been waiting for them in the Operations Center alongside Syndra. They hadn¡¯t even bothered with pleasantries, opting to dive straight into the heart of the matter.


    Cole obliged. He kept his report tight, starting with the missing patrol and going all the way up to K¡¯hinnum¡¯s speech ¨C or at least, the version of it he and Mack had reconstructed and written down.


    Cullen gave nothing away ¨C not in his posture, not in his expression, not in the way he processed the report without so much as a flicker of concern. But silence was never truly neutral. It was either a void or a shield, and men like Fernal didn¡¯t waste it on the former. If the timeline was accelerating, if a Vampire Lord was already working to weaken Celdorne, then OTAC had never expected the Demon Lord¡¯s premature awakening as a possibility to begin with.


    The dots had done them the favor of connecting themselves, proving that whatever schedules OTAC had made were never the right metric to begin with ¨C about as Protean as a game of thrones, where victory was real only until the next move proved it wasn¡¯t.


    Cullen still remained an unreadable slate, but his orders filled the silence for him. Strinrik and Allesoire¡¯s expedition was done ¨C recalled outright because, shockingly, hiking into a demonic hot zone wasn¡¯t quite the most tenable career choice. When OTAC started pulling back high-level Slayers and their heavily armed escorts, it was as good as admitting that no one out there was handling shit anymore.


    Syndra¡¯s intelligence division got bumped to high priority, tasked with tracking and reinforcing all convoys, confirming whether any other outposts had gone the way of Kidry. It would be up to her to assess the seeming coincidence of the fiasco ¨C perfectly timed with their ¡®training mission¡¯ ¨C and to lock the whole outpost down before possession became the next great export.


    The possessed would be studied. If a cure existed, OTAC would either find it or decide the effort wasn¡¯t worth the cost. Either way, containment took precedence. If the situation in Kidry wasn¡¯t recoverable, well... that wasn¡¯t today¡¯s problem. Nobody had thrown around the word losses yet, but it already tainted the air, a polite omission in place of an ugly truth.


    Still, solid decisions, all of them. Sensible. Right, even. And when all that planning inevitably collided with the reality that demons didn¡¯t give a shit about the best laid plans of elves and men or otherwise, Cole¡¯s team would be the ones standing in their way. Cole¡¯s team would be forced to hold the shortest end of the stick. Cole¡¯s team would be getting fucked the hardest.


    They were promised rest and training, but who knew how long that¡¯d last? Given their luck, the next ¡®training¡¯ mission would probably be as ¡®easy¡¯ as the one planned at Nolaren. They¡¯d get a crash-course in ¡®good enough¡¯ before getting thrown at something that should, by all rights, be eating them alive.


    In any other world, with any other party, this would be a death sentence ¨C a bloody, grotesque catastrophe and a tragedy for all involved. But they managed to get by with just the basics, and they¡¯d continue to do so. Still, Cole wouldn¡¯t let himself get cocky with a single win; any advantage was worth securing.


    Cullen wrapped up with a repeat of the same directives Syndra had given them. Most immediate ¨C and, if Cole was being honest, important ¨C of all, they¡¯d go home and rest.


    ¨C ¨C


    Cole accompanied Mack to OTAC¡¯s medical wing, breakfast still settling. He had to admit, everything here was high-grade ¨C just a notch below the castle¡¯s over-the-top spreads or the train¡¯s fancy dinners. But with a declining appetite, he only saw the meal as solid fuel after the Vampire Lord shenanigans chewed him up and spit him out. Sleep sufficed, and that was the best word he could use to describe his rest. He¡¯d have preferred to attempt to catch a few more hours, but Mack¡¯s psych eval was next on the docket.


    With the Kidry survivors inbound, the medical wing had readied for crisis response ¨C doctors and apprentices executing their own version of a mass-casualty protocol, albeit with runic flourishes. Though, Cole didn¡¯t really have high hopes for that.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    They found Elina in the midst of sterilizing equipment with her magic. She looked up, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Sir Cole? And Sir Mack? What brings you here? I had thought you both mended. Do you yet suffer some lingering ailment?¡±


    Mack smirked, tossing a hand up. ¡°Ah, we¡¯re both fine. It¡¯s nothing like that; if you¡¯ve got the time, I wanna show you something ¨C a psych eval. Psychological evaluation. We¡¯re gonna need some privacy for this.¡±


    Elina nodded. ¡°Very well.¡±


    She guided them away from the epicenter, arriving at an empty office in a quieter part of the facility.


    ¡°This evaluation, I presume, gauges the resilience of the mind ¨C like a fortitude assessment. Or is it perhaps some subtler inquiry?¡±


    Mack closed the door, pulling up seats for them. ¡°Yeah, something like that. Think of it like this ¨C you can sometimes tell when a guy¡¯s lying, right? Maybe he glances to the left, or his voice sounds weird, or something. There¡¯s always a tell. Same goes for someone who¡¯s happy; they smile, they laugh, their tone is lively. And the same goes for pain ¨C the type that can break a man without a drop of blood. The signs are always there, and this eval picks up on those signs. Figures out who¡¯s just tired, and who¡¯s drowning under the weight of what they¡¯ve been through.¡±


    Elina followed Mack, sitting beside him. ¡°A study to discern what a man will not ¨C perhaps cannot ¨C reveal.¡±


    Mack grinned. ¡°Yeah. And Captain Mercer here¡¯s volunteered to be our case study.¡±


    ¡°A willing subject?¡± Elina asked. ¡°I had thought these inquiries a thing men sought to avoid.¡±


    They were indeed, but Cole wouldn¡¯t dare put it so bluntly ¨C not with Elina¡¯s impression of him at stake. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t mistake me for eager. This was inevitable. Mack¡¯s just making a spectacle of it.¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± Mack leaned back, spinning a pencil between his fingers. ¡°Gotta run the eval either way. Figured I¡¯d kill two birds with one stone ¨C get Elina a front-row seat while we¡¯re at it.¡±


    Elina, though ¨C she definitely wasn¡¯t one to pass up an opportunity to twist the knife. ¡°Ah, how noble! Shall I commend your valor now, or wait till the inquisition has had its due?¡±


    Cole chuckled. ¡°An inquisition, is it? Yeah, that sounds about right.¡± He stopped smiling. ¡°Y¡¯know, I think you might feel differently once Mack¡¯s done prying into my head.¡±


    Mack got his notebook ready. ¡°Let¡¯s get to it, then.¡±


    Mack cleared the administrative mundanity in no time. Name, rank, date, review of the after action report ¨C check, check, check. Then came the checklists designed to measure how traumatized and stressed he was, from the PCL-M to the MOSS. Cole answered as honestly as he could. He had been through enough of these evaluations to know the script by heart. Those standardized assessments were just bureaucratic theater; just trying to compress the chaos of combat into neat little boxes and numbers.


    What really mattered was the interview.


    ¡°Let¡¯s begin with the mission-specific assessment.¡± Mack shifted into shrink mode. ¡°Talk me through your experience with K¡¯hinnum. How are you processing that encounter?¡±


    Cole already had his answer. ¡°Hated it ¨C nothing to compare it to; nothing that could¡¯ve prepared us for this. That flash-step threw a real wrench in our shit. Not gonna lie, it was terrifying, y¡¯know? Seeing something I¡¯ve never seen before. Hard to establish fire superiority when your target can damn near teleport across the battlefield at will. We only got out because we got lucky ¨C we just so happened to have tricks up our sleeves that the Vampire Lord had never seen.¡±


    ¡°Any intrusive thoughts about the encounter? Flashbacks, dreams, moments where it comes back when you¡¯re not expecting it?¡±


    Cole knew he couldn¡¯t be objective ¨C he could try, but no one ever was. He tried anyway. ¡°When I¡¯m not expecting it, no. But... I do replay it in my head sometimes. Analytically, of course. Definitely not tripping over it, but it¡¯s got me thinking about how we fight back. It seems easily disoriented, so spamming flashbang spells could work ¨C our concussive fireballs. Still, trying to figure out a good strategy against something so inhuman, it¡¯s a challenge. A real challenge, I gotta admit.¡±


    Mack nodded, making a note. ¡°And how does this compare to human combat experiences? You¡¯ve seen your share of that.¡±


    Cole lowered his head. Human combat was grounded; sensible, but still just as prone to the bullshit that could sunder even the most perfect of plans. What happened in Yemen, for one. He pushed it aside.


    ¡°Human combat makes sense, y¡¯know? Even when it¡¯s chaotic, there¡¯s a logic to it. There are constraints. The demons, though... How do you assess a threat when you don¡¯t even know what they¡¯re capable of? Granted, the Kingdom has some information, but only some.¡±


    "So the unpredictability is higher," Mack observed.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± The word came out sharper than expected.


    Mack made another note but moved on, continuing through several standard questions about sleep, appetite, and energy. Cole gave brief answers.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move on to risk assessment. Primary concerns going forward?¡± Mack asked.


    Cole almost blurted his answer. ¡°Possession. That¡¯s the big one. Even if it can¡¯t control us, it can still affect us. I remember when it first dropped down ¨C it felt like winning was a pipe dream. That aura... you felt it too, right?¡± He glanced at Mack, then Elina. ¡°You know what it is, right?¡±


    Mack gave Elina a nod, letting her speak. ¡°I felt it indeed ¨C a most dismal air, quite as you say it worked upon us. Truthfully, we¡¯ve scarcely puzzled out half its secrets. It¡¯s no easy matter, I assure you, to reason out a spell one cannot see. Yet this much we hold certain: that ¡®aura¡¯ is but a lesser influence, far below true possession.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m worried about that myself,¡± Mack admitted. ¡°But back to you, Mercer. Any other concerns?¡±


    ¡°Adaptation. These demons aren¡¯t stupid. What¡¯s worse than their abilities is the fact that they¡¯re intelligent to boot. That infiltration on the first night, probing outposts, and... honestly? It probably wouldn¡¯t be much of a stretch to say that they planned to ambush us. Hell of a coincidence. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, thrice, more? They¡¯re getting intel somehow.¡±


    Mack registered the response with a look that suggested complete understanding. They all felt the same way. But he didn¡¯t address it; instead, he continued with his interview. ¡°And how¡¯s that affecting your approach to team safety?¡±


    The exasperation building up within Cole erupted in a tired smile. ¡°Would it dock some points if I told you it¡¯s got me paranoid?¡±


    ¡°Well, I definitely can¡¯t blame you for that. Still, it looks like you¡¯re particularly focused on unpredictable elements.¡± Mack leaned in, studying Cole like he was a lab rat. He recognized the underlying blight ¨C Yemen. Everyone on the team knew, at least the broad strokes. ¡°Tell me about that.¡±


    Cole looked at Elina. All of their operations were classified, no more than a solid block of redacted text to anyone without the clearance. A few months ago he¡¯d have shut the conversation down immediately with a foreign national in the room. But now? Their secrets meant fuck-all in a world where demons could possess people through a sandwich. Besides, to Elina, his war stories probably registered somewhere between fairy tales and anthropological curiosities ¨C just more Earth baggage the otherworlders dragged along with their guns and gear.


    ¡°Doubt anyone from back home would get on our asses,¡± Mack reassured. ¡°I need to know what¡¯s going on.¡±


    Cole exhaled. He would¡¯ve preferred to avoid talking about it, but if it helped Mack do his job, then he had no other choice. ¡°Copper Line, three years ago...¡±

 Chapter 32: Murphy鈥檚 Law

    ¡°I was a First Lieutenant at the time. Target was Fahim al-Hamdani, AQAP bomb-maker. The intel was perfect: five weeks of SIGINT, three separate HUMINT sources all saying the same thing, ISR had mapped every inch of the AO, including an old Soviet minefield.¡±


    The memory surfaced, clear as day. Even if Cole tried, it wouldn¡¯t be something he could ever forget. This wasn¡¯t some faded slideshow, like most recollections from the sandbox. No, this one had been etched into his brain through obsessive replay.


    Every second cataloged and cross-referenced like he was building an intelligence file on his own failure. Frame by frame by fucking frame, like a film editor hyperfixating over a single sequence. Even in his sleep, some part of him remained there, trapped in that cage of guilt and regret, still searching for the missing piece that would¡¯ve changed the outcome.


    Cole continued, ¡°We had a safe corridor through the minefield mapped down to the meter. Eight meters wide. Everything accounted for.¡± He paused, grimacing. Intelligence didn¡¯t get cleaner than that. Perfect fucking intel, perfect fucking plan. They had the kind of operational setup that got used as case studies at Fort Bragg. And it didn''t mean shit in the end.


    ¡°A shepherd and his goat showed up near the edge. It wasn¡¯t unexpected, or anything, y¡¯know? We knew locals used the paths regularly.¡±


    At the time, it was nothing more than a tertiary concern; they¡¯d all rehearsed warnings in the local dialect, and there had been a few among them who could speak the language fluently. Just another variable boxed, tagged, and accounted for: or so they had thought.


    ¡°Our interpreter warned them, and the shepherd understood; understood it well: started backing away just like we told him to. Y¡¯know, oftentimes these guys... they get spooked by something, or they don¡¯t trust us, or they just do dumb shit. But this guy, well... The fact that he got the memo didn¡¯t really translate to his fucking goat getting the memo. The damn, fucking goat: I don¡¯t know why the hell, but it just fucking bolted. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe it was our tone, or because it didn¡¯t recognize us. Didn¡¯t matter. It ran straight into that minefield.¡±


    Cole knew that the situation likely seemed totally alien to Elina, but the look on her face confirmed her understanding. She didn¡¯t need to know what a ¡®minefield¡¯ was; the context must¡¯ve been enough. And that context conveyed exactly what Cole had experienced at the time: that suspended moment of perfect awareness where the outcome was already determined but not yet manifested. Like watching the hammer fall on a round he knew was going to misfire.


    It was the epitome of tragedy: witnessing the inevitable while knowing, in some infuriatingly simple way, how it could have been prevented. A leash. A damn leash. That was all. But there hadn¡¯t been one, and by the time it mattered, it was already too late.


    Cole clenched a fist. ¡°PMN-2 mine. Soviet-era. The explosion alerted al-Hamdani¡¯s compound: we¡¯d been creeping up on the target when it happened.¡± Their noise discipline had been flawless. Everything textbook until the random element. The fucking goat. ¡°Master Sergeant Torres took the initial RPG. We did everything by the book: immediate tactical care, priority extraction. He died anyway.¡±


    ¡°Murphy¡¯s Law,¡± Mack said, like he was stating the obvious.


    Cole let out a breath that twisted into something like a laugh: sharp, bitter, a pressurized container of rage and frustration that had nowhere else to go. ¡°Murphy¡¯s fucking Law.¡± The words curdled in his mouth, a cosmic joke he¡¯d heard one too many times to find funny. A sick, twisted joke with a punchline often written in blood.


    Elina tilted her head slightly. ¡°I fear I don¡¯t quite follow.¡±


    Mack turned to answer, but Cole stopped him with a raised hand. ¡°Murphy¡¯s Law. ¡®Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.¡¯ You plan for everything you can possibly think of. Account for every variable. And then some random bullshit nobody could predict comes along and wrecks it all anyway. A fucking goat spooked by the wind.¡±


    ¡°Then I take it your endeavor met with ruin?¡± Elina asked.


    Ruin? Command sure as hell didn¡¯t think so. They called it a textbook op; even gave him a promotion. But Torres was dead, and Cole was the one who had to live with that. Perhaps ¡®ruin¡¯ wasn¡¯t the right word, but it sure as hell wasn¡¯t ¡®success¡¯ either.


    Cole felt a scowl form, unbidden, automatic. But he suppressed it; there was no point in getting pissed off at her for not knowing. He sighed, leaning forward in his seat. ¡°Guess it depends on who you ask.¡±


    ¡°The operation achieved its objectives,¡± Mack clarified. ¡°But we lost a good man.¡±


    Elina just nodded. She got the nuance, if only just what was available on the surface.


    Adrian Torres. Nine years in special operations had distilled him into the platonic ideal of a Master Sergeant: the evolutionary endpoint of what military leadership pretended it valued while simultaneously ensuring such specimens remain rare. Bronze Star from a host of operations that he¡¯d casually relegated to the same drawer as spare batteries and old receipts. He represented the operational antithesis of the PowerPoint warriors who designed missions: the living embodiment of the gap between theoretical and applied combat doctrine.


    The guy was the epitome of a good operator. When the operation¡¯s team assignments were being finalized, Cole had specifically requested him for their element. Wanted competence unmarred by ego. Got exactly that. Watched him die anyway.


    ¡°After Torres got hit, command pushed forward anyway. HVT was too valuable to just abort the mission.¡±


    Cole could still hear the TOC commander¡¯s voice in his ear: calling the shots from the air-conditioned sanctuary of Camp Lemonnier, where the only real threat was the base cafeteria''s attempt at pasta. The entire decision tree had been preemptively rigged. Mission success had already been deemed worth the potential casualties before they even inserted. Torres was just the unfortunate rounding error in their equation.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°The best we could do was split the element. I left two guys for casualty evac with Torres. The rest of us pushed to the objective. Cleared out the compound with no other casualties. Full mission success across all elements: got the HVT, got the intel, neutralized the bomb workshop: everything. Everything except for Torres.¡±


    Cole sighed. ¡°He had three kids, you know. His youngest was just six months old. He... He hadn¡¯t even met her in person. Just that grainy NIPRNet shit, y¡¯know? Had all these plans when he finally went back home. He was gonna take the baby to meet his mom in SD: whole trip planned out. Even bought one of those little sailor outfits.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°It was supposed to be his last op, too. Had his paperwork already filed for a transfer to training command at Bragg. Over a decade in, figured he¡¯d done his part.¡± His voice dropped slightly. ¡°We all gave him shit about it too. Told him to stop dragging his feet, get home to his kids. Even said... fucking hell, I actually fucking said, ¡®Make sure you come back in one piece.¡¯¡±


    Elina¡¯s eyes softened, her analytical facade melting away. She might not have known what NIPRNet was or where San Diego sat on a map, but that didn¡¯t matter. Some things didn¡¯t need translation: a father making plans he¡¯d never keep. A homecoming that never came.


    ¡°We¡¯ve a saying,¡± she said, voice low. ¡°¡®Many a sailor drowns with shore in sight.¡¯ The final approach breeds complacency, and oft has a captain warned his crew not to let safe harbor deceive them.¡± She paused, looking down. ¡°My father served with the Royal Navy ere his retirement. He¡¯d say more men were lost within sight of the lighthouse than ever to the storm.¡±


    Cole nodded. Some things were just universal truths. ¡°Last mission curse. You go a whole tour without a scratch, and then fate decides to cash in its chips. Always thought the ¡®last mission¡¯ cliche? was just lazy writing in war movies. Something to get you crying over the characters. But it really does happen more often than it should...¡±


    ¡°They gave you your promotion for that operation,¡± Mack said.


    Cole couldn¡¯t meet his eyes immediately. The bitter irony had its own gravitational pull, drawing his gaze downward before he managed to wrestle it back up. That promotion had been the military¡¯s version of a participation trophy: standardized recognition for surviving something that killed someone better.


    ¡°Yeah well, somebody had to get a medal, right? Torres comes home in a body bag, I come home with a promotion.¡± Cole threw his arms up. ¡°C¡¯est la fucking vie, I guess.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why you hate luck,¡± Mack observed.


    That wasn¡¯t how Cole would¡¯ve put it, but close enough. ¡°Yeah. That fight shouldn¡¯t have gone our way. But it just so happened that we had knowledge from back home to balance the scales in terms of magic. It just so happened that we clipped it and weakened it. We got lucky, much as I hate to admit. We won¡¯t get that luxury next time we see K¡¯hinnum.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re worried about luck covering gaps in our knowledge.¡±


    Cole nodded. ¡°The enemy has capabilities we don¡¯t fully understand. How many new variants are we gonna go up against, throwing spells we¡¯ve never seen, all the while we¡¯re stuck with the most basic fucking repertoire? We knew how to make a fireball, raise some dirt, make some mud, and that was it.¡±


    Mack prodded further. ¡°So we should¡¯ve left Kidry; wait a day or two for reinforcements from OTAC to arrive?¡±


    ¡°Well, no.¡± Cole knew Mack¡¯s angle here. He wouldn¡¯t let it dictate the evaluation. ¡°I think we made the right choice. We leave no man behind. It was within our means, so it was an easy choice. But...¡± He took a breath. ¡°We should¡¯ve never gone up against that Vampire Lord without more magic under our belt.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t always have a say,¡± Mack said.


    Cole grimaced. ¡°You¡¯re right. Still, we can close that gap. In Yemen, we had perfect preparation. Every variable accounted for. When that goat hit the mine, it was our training and redundant planning that got the rest of us out alive. Torres died, but it could¡¯ve just as easily been the whole team.¡±


    Mack stopped taking notes. ¡°So, what are you gonna do about it?¡±


    For Cole, the answer was simple. ¡°Spellcasting is based on visualization and understanding, isn¡¯t it? Phantasia. I got the imagination, and I got the science. So I guess... try not to blow myself up testing new spells?¡±


    Elina gave a light chuckle. ¡°As mana permits, yes?¡±


    Cole glanced at her. ¡°Yeah, as mana permits.¡±


    ¡°As long as you don¡¯t get lost in it,¡± Mack warned.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Cole said. He paused, then added himself, ¡°You know why this matters so much? It¡¯s not just about preventing another Torres.¡±


    ¡°Why, then?¡± Mack asked.


    ¡°Because when luck turns against us here, it won¡¯t just be one soldier who pays the price.¡±


    ¡°What happened with Torres... it wasn¡¯t your fault. You know that, right?¡±


    That same phrase, again and again, from the AAR to the memorial service. Technically true but functionally useless. Knowing he followed protocol didn¡¯t fill the empty seat on the helo or explain to Torres¡¯ kids why daddy wasn''t coming home. The responsibility sat on his shoulders regardless of what the official report said. ¡°I... I know.¡±


    Mack frowned, unconvinced. He¡¯d seen right through Cole¡¯s professional veneer to the bleeding underneath. ¡°There was quite literally nothing you could have done,¡± he reassured. ¡°And these responsibilities: you don¡¯t have to shoulder the burden; you don¡¯t have to carry the weight of the world. At least, you don¡¯t have to do it on your own.¡±


    Mack¡¯s tone suggested he was done, or just about. Cole met his eyes for a second, then Elina¡¯s. ¡°Maybe.¡± He stood up. ¡°Are we done?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re done. You¡¯re combat-ready as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡± Mack closed his notebook, offering a soft smile. ¡°Not like I could bench you even if I wanted to. The Director-General would probably throw a fit. Still though... take it easy, yeah? I get wanting to push ourselves with training, but your mentality¡¯s just as important as your capabilities. Don¡¯t wanna walk into a rematch tired as shit, or on the brink of losing your sanity, right?¡±


    Cole returned the smile. ¡°Copy that, Doc.¡±


    He walked away, pulling the door open to find Miles leaning against the opposite wall. ¡°You¡¯re up.¡±


    Miles straightened immediately, pushing off the wall. ¡°Hell, just in time. Damn near ran in circles tryna find this place.¡±


    Cole recognized that mix of irritation and tension in his voice. Miles hated anything that took him away from practical work, and psych evals were at the top of that list. If anything, he¡¯d probably have preferred to go for a walk to clear his head. Or, hell, he probably would¡¯ve gone to clean his shotgun for the millionth time, just so it¡¯d look pretty when he finally presented it to Kathyra and her researchers.


    Either way, the fact that he was here was already a good sign. ¡°Yeah, well, don¡¯t get lost on your way to the registry office. I¡¯m heading there now; gonna finally sort out our house staff.¡±

 Chapter 33: House Staff

    There was something about registry offices that captured the essence of VA waiting rooms, regardless of the dimension. The Victorian woodwork and brass fixtures were a clear upgrade from the institutional beige walls and uncomfortable plastic chairs that veterans endured for hours on end, but bureaucracy had a way of transcending aesthetics.


    The magical lamps mimicking natural sunlight beat the fluorescent hell of those VA clinics. Those lights somehow made every medical condition feel worse during those endless waits for a case manager who¡¯d inevitably report that the paperwork had been lost. Again. And yes, the thick carpeting muffled sound better than linoleum tiles ever could, but it didn¡¯t change the fundamental truth that this was where time came to die, one ticking second at a time.


    The one consistent variable about purgatory was that it always ended eventually. Progress had been slow, but after an hour in, the pile of potential candidates had narrowed from a hundred to fifteen. Better than expected, but with the same sense of futility that came from knowing that finding the right staff would be like finding a decent meal in a forward operating base: technically possible but realistically improbable.


    Cole sighed and flipped through the pages.


    Most candidates looked the same after a while: professionally bland, carefully inoffensive, trained to fade into the background. Not what they needed. They needed people who could handle the fact that their employers had literally fallen out of another dimension, people who could adapt to them. They needed people who would notice things without gossiping about them. Discretion, adaptability, competence: Cole had requested basic qualities that apparently fell short of whatever grand expectations the registrar had built up from legends and noble households.


    Winthrop, he¡¯d called himself. Middle-aged with that permanently straight spine one only got from years of dreading a superior officer¡¯s inspection. Cole had laid out his requirements earlier with zero fanfare: someone to run the household who could actually manage people, and staff who¡¯d dealt with foreigners before.


    That last one was the most crucial of all. They obviously weren¡¯t gonna find staff who¡¯d worked with otherworldly heroes before, but those who¡¯d served foreign dignitaries? Well, they¡¯d at least be used to different customs and unexpected behaviors.


    The registrar had looked like Cole had just ordered a generic burger at a five-star restaurant. As far as Winthrop was concerned, heroes were probably supposed to demand personal musicians and sommeliers. Unlike the nobles he must¡¯ve dealt with in the past, they had no need for such things.


    When Winthrop suggested a chef versed in multiple cuisines, Cole didn¡¯t dismiss it the way he had with most of the man¡¯s theatrics. He actually paused and considered it. The castle kitchen had been good, surprisingly so, especially for temporary accommodation. The Japanese dishes that had filtered into Aurelian cuisine, represented a lot more than just familiar flavor profiles. They were context, memory, and displacement made edible.


    Food from back home, even if passed through the filter of a foreign reality... That shit was a lifeline to everything they¡¯d left behind: nostalgia, longing satisfied with a mental anchor. Personal preferences aside, it would be crucial for stability. A taste that could instantly transport them across dimensions: better than any summoning spell: would do wonders for morale. It would give them something to hold onto.


    It was then that Miles entered, resting bitch face dominating his visage. It wasn¡¯t a mask so much as a habit: one he defaulted to when given nothing immediate to engage with. Despite the residual psych eval slump in his shoulders, Cole knew he didn¡¯t hate the sessions. He didn¡¯t mock the process, either; he just didn¡¯t trust it to get anywhere faster than action would. Or distraction. Give Miles something to do, and he¡¯d recalibrate on his own.


    And right on cue, the shift came as soon as his eyes landed on the files. Thin stacks of preselected candidates, scribbled notes, half-formed hierarchies: just enough structure to qualify as a problem worth solving. Reflex summoned a smile, distant stare fading away.


    ¡°How¡¯s the search?¡±


    ¡°Mostly garbage.¡± Cole handed him some of the files. ¡°Narrowed it down to fifteen, but hey, if you ever wanted a personal sommelier, now¡¯s your chance.¡±


    Miles picked up one of the documents, flipping through it. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, then spread into a full grin as he spotted some detail in the pages that would inevitably become ammunition for giving Cole shit.


    Cole braced himself. ¡°What?¡±


    Miles looked up from the papers. ¡°Surprised you ain¡¯t jumpin¡¯ on that. Might need to learn which fork to use when your elf girl comes over.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, whatever.¡± Cole shook his head, smirking. ¡°And I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s not even what sommeliers are for, dude. They handle like... wine tasting, not table etiquette.¡±


    ¡°Eh. Same shit.¡± Miles shrugged. ¡°Rich folks payin¡¯ someone to tell ¡®em how to do what normal people figure out just fine.¡± He set down the document, pulling up a seat. ¡°But seriously, you tellin¡¯ me you ain¡¯t pickin¡¯ these people with her in mind? Not even a little?¡±


    Cole glanced at Miles. True as it was, it wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d readily admit. ¡°What are we, in high school? Man, I¡¯m just tryna find good matches: people we¡¯d be okay living with, people who¡¯d be okay living with us, foreign as we are.¡±


    ¡°Sure, boss.¡± Miles had completely abandoned all attempts at hiding his smirk. ¡°So them fifteen candidates, then. Any actually worth talkin¡¯ to?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a handful. I¡¯ve got four, but this is the one I¡¯m most confident in.¡± Cole pulled out four files from the stack and handed one of them to Miles. ¡°Lisara Embreau, half-elf. She¡¯s a cook who worked for some diplomat: Viscount Halven. Guy used to entertain ambassadors from all over: Verdanian Alliance, Brithean duchies, Sannuki Emirates, you name it. Says here she also picked up Aurelian cuisine after some Japanese hero got summoned there almost forty years ago. Not to be confused with the Japanese hero they¡¯ve got runnin¡¯ around right now.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    Cole tapped the paper. ¡°Point is, she¡¯s used to adapting to strange requests and foreign customs. If there¡¯s anyone who can replicate pizza and buffalo wings for us, it¡¯s her.¡±


    Miles held up a hand. ¡°Say no more. I¡¯m sold on the cook. How ¡®bout the others?¡±


    Cole was about to answer when the door swung open: Ethan, Mack, and Elina stepping in. Ethan caught his eye first, expression refreshed, like the eval had finally cut him some slack.


    ¡°We¡¯re really doing this, huh? Getting servants,¡± Ethan said, half a grin creeping in.


    Cole gave the group a nod. ¡°Yeah, y¡¯all made it just in time. We¡¯re going over candidates right now; I¡¯ve got four I think we should interview, and a few more we can potentially decide on.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve begun?¡± Elina noticed. ¡°You should take care, Sir Cole. One does not appoint servants as one might engage a clerk. A misstep here reflects not on them, but on the house itself.¡±


    Cole pulled up a seat for her. ¡°You know, you¡¯re welcome to join us.¡± Of course, that could mean the selection process: or an invitation to live with them. He left it hanging, a perfect opportunity to see what Elina would do with the opportunity.


    ¡°Oh, am I truly?¡± Elina blinked, hesitating now that the ball was in her court. ¡°Well... The quarters granted me are tolerable enough, if rather austere. I had indeed thought to seek a more suitable residence, once my station here permits it.¡±


    She settled into the seat, bringing herself closer to Cole. ¡°I cannot deny the convenience; both in logistics and in fostering unity. Still: for the present, I intend to remain near the infirmary. The men of Kidry shall have need of me.¡±


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    Cole nodded. The victims from Kidry: what was left of them, after K¡¯hinnum¡¯s control: were soon to be under lock and key, guarded like warheads. From what he¡¯d heard, the prognosis wasn¡¯t hopeful.


    Elina continued, picking up one of the files. ¡°But I should be glad to aid in your selection. When at last the time comes, I¡¯d rather not be a stranger at my own threshold.¡± She offered a smile. ¡°And I suspect you¡¯ve need of my expertise in these matters. So... who might these four candidates be?¡±


    Cole smirked. ¡°Appreciate the help. These dossiers start to blur after a while, but I think you¡¯ll like my picks. First one¡¯s already got Garrett¡¯s seal of approval. Lisara Embreau. We just finished going over the file, actually.¡± He turned to Mack and Ethan. ¡°She can cook Japanese food, apparently.¡±


    Like Miles, that was all they needed to hear. Elina wasn¡¯t convinced so easily, but she caved in once Cole brought up the prospect of new recipes from Earth. In the end, reviewing the cook¡¯s file again yielded the expected result: unanimous agreement.


    Mack leaned on Cole¡¯s headrest. ¡°So we¡¯ve got the cook covered. Who else made your shortlist?¡±


    Cole pulled out the second file. ¡°Mrs. Tenna Guinnosa. Fifty-something, human woman. Head housekeeper for Viscount Halven: just like the cook: until his passing last spring.¡±


    Elina¡¯s ears perked up at the Viscount''s name. ¡°A tenure with House Halven speaks well of her. The Viscount had never suffered mediocrity: nor condescended to incompetence. We¡¯d do well to interview her as we shall Miss Embreau.¡±


    Ethan leaned over their shoulders. ¡°The Viscount... That¡¯s the previous Foreign Minister, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Cole replied. ¡°Thirty-three years of service. Lady Halven wrote this recommendation herself.¡± He tapped the file. ¡°Managed and hired staff, handled security, schedules, almost everything.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s clearly qualified,¡± Mack said, ¡°but I wonder if she¡¯d be comfortable with us. We¡¯re not her usual... client.¡±


    Miles snorted, patting Mack¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hell, speak for yourself. Poor gal might take one look at your room and walk right back out.¡±


    ¡°You say that as if that¡¯d be the worst she¡¯s ever dealt with.¡± Mack might¡¯ve been on the verge of rolling his eyes and walking away, but he smirked instead. ¡°If there¡¯s anything that might faze her, it¡¯d be the experiments you make in the kitchen.¡±


    Miles raised his hands. ¡°Alright, s¡¯pose that¡¯s fair ¡®nuff, but hey: that¡¯s the price of progress. Still tryna figure out how to use all them alien ingredients.¡±


    Ethan turned to face Miles. ¡°I thought we had a cookbook somewhere?¡±


    ¡°Well, can¡¯t say we don¡¯t, but where¡¯s the fun in that?¡± Miles replied with a grin. ¡°Those recipes are for tourists. Call it... special reconnaissance.¡±


    Ethan grinned, finding his own opportunity. ¡°I¡¯m gonna keep it a buck with you, Garrett, my good man. You call it special reconnaissance, I call it a non-permissive environment. That kitchen¡¯s hostile fuckin¡¯ territory.¡±


    ¡°Like I said, price of progress,¡± Miles defended, though his expression suggested he knew exactly how bad it had been. Even Phoenix Wright and Saul Goodman combined couldn¡¯t have gotten him out of this one. ¡°Sometimes, you gotta fail spectacularly before you succeed.¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure that¡¯s not how cooking works,¡± Mack said.


    Cole laughed. ¡°This is exactly why we need staff who can handle our little peculiarities. Tenna Guinnosa: we¡¯d probably seem tame to her.¡±


    ¡°Oh, believe me,¡± Elina chuckled, ¡°you¡¯re charmingly manageable. A woman such as her would have already grown accustomed to suffering the insufferable. I was once privy to an account of the Sannuki ambassador dismissing three servants over: you¡¯ll not believe: a napkin fold he deemed personally offensive! By contrast, your eccentricities scarcely warrant comment.¡±


    ¡°See?¡± Cole nodded, adding Tenna¡¯s file to the interview pile. ¡°We¡¯re practically low-maintenance.¡± He moved on to the third candidate. ¡°Darin Lars as a retainer, or something. General helper or butler. Basically our age; could even be one of the homies. Works with the Alexandria Commerce Association, but the government¡¯s willing to move him around as needed. Started as a runner, worked his way up to handling priority deliveries for major trading companies, like Duke Alvak¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°So he¡¯s resourceful,¡± Ethan said, leaning back in his seat. ¡°That¡¯s a plus. And unlike some stuffy butler, he won¡¯t have a heart attack if we track mud through the foyer after a mission.¡±


    Mack shrugged. ¡°Well, that Tenna woman might.¡±


    Cole smirked. The way they were talking, it almost seemed like they¡¯d already decided: even before getting a chance to meet with them face-to-face. The candidates were the cre?me de la cre?me on paper: immaculate references, distinguished work histories, and credentials that checked every necessary box. But even the most impressive dossier couldn''t reveal whether someone would blend seamlessly into their unconventional household or flee screaming the first time Miles experimented in the kitchen. The file might be flawless, but the fit was another matter entirely.


    Ethan nodded along. ¡°Mm; fair point.¡± He turned to Cole. ¡°And you¡¯re saying he¡¯s the best on the list?¡±


    Cole flipped through the other eleven files: the ones he¡¯d set aside as alternatives to his preferred roster. ¡°Well, it¡¯s either him or those ¡®stuffy butlers¡¯ who, by the way, lack Darin¡¯s experience out on the streets.¡±


    ¡°Youth is oft more pliant than older minds allow, but I must admit... I wonder whether he¡¯s quite prepared for the weight of proximity.¡± Elina glanced at Cole. He hadn¡¯t gotten the chance to ask what she meant when she continued, ¡°Tenna and Lisara, though of common birth, are steeped in discipline: trained to serve within noble houses, and well-accustomed to the manner of command. He, I think, is not. After all, Heroes cast long shadows in the common mind.¡±


    Cole looked around, everyone already nodding along. It was a fair point: a starstruck employee probably wouldn¡¯t perform that well, but he couldn¡¯t just assume that without even meeting the guy. ¡°Fanboying aside, he might have some good insight and connections when it comes to people outside of OTAC and the nobility. I think we should interview him, see if he¡¯s up to it.¡±


    ¡°Worth finding out,¡± Mack said. ¡°Add him to the pile.¡±


    Cole placed Darin¡¯s file with Tenna¡¯s and Lisara¡¯s. ¡°Alright, last guy: Melnar Hartwell. Forty-something. Groundskeeper for General Aldam Galahad. General¡¯s willing to part with Melnar, as a gift, or something.¡±


    Miles raised an eyebrow. ¡°Gift?¡±


    Cole didn¡¯t quite pin it either, so he just shrugged. ¡°Yeah, probably in return for the tips and tricks we¡¯re gonna give his military. Anyway, Melnar here can maintain our property with minimal supervision. Guy prefers simplicity and function over ornamental excess.¡±


    ¡°So he¡¯ll show up, do his job, and leave us alone,¡± Miles said. ¡°Perfect.¡±


    Mack gave him a light jab. ¡°What, you don¡¯t want someone who¡¯ll turn our hedges into dinosaurs? Or statues of the great Captain?¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if that other pile legit has someone like that.¡± Cole gestured. ¡°Have at it.¡±


    Mack glanced at the stack, already frowning at the first file. ¡°Uhh... Maybe not.¡± He took Melnar¡¯s file instead, skimming through it.


    ¡°Melnar is an apt choice,¡± Elina said. ¡°A discerning groundskeeper elevates a residence beyond mere shelter. Too many see the role as menial, yet the state of one¡¯s grounds speaks: oft more plainly than the occupants would wish. And should our hedges lapse into disarray, I daresay it would not be long before the King dispatches some poor attache? to confirm our descent into barbarism.¡±


    Cole suppressed a laugh, though he couldn¡¯t quite keep the amusement from his eyes. They¡¯d been talking about a groundskeeper, and somehow Elina had made it sound like they were appointing a royal minister. Still, beyond that embellishment of hers, she wasn¡¯t wrong.


    Image mattered here: probably more than it should. Back home, nobody cared what a Delta operator¡¯s yard looked like, HOA Karens aside. Here, they were heroes, baronets, and whatever other titles got heaped on them. As much as he might detest the fact, appearances were part of the job description.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess we wouldn¡¯t wanna upset the neighbors,¡± he agreed, more diplomatically than he felt. The whole concept of titles, servants, and social standing was still a mental adjustment. But if unmowed grass could affect how seriously people took them when demons came knocking, then sure: they¡¯d hire a groundskeeper. ¡°All right, Melnar makes the cut.¡±


    Cole gathered the four files, stacking them neatly. ¡°So we¡¯re agreed on these four? Nothing on the other stack?¡±


    With everyone¡¯s confirmation, Cole approached Winthrop. ¡°We¡¯ve made our selections,¡± he said, handing over the files.


    The registrar flipped through the papers before setting them aside. If he¡¯d made any judgment, he sure as hell didn¡¯t show it. ¡°Understood. I shall issue the summons at once. Have you a preferred window for the interviews, or shall I assume earliest convenience?¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow morning works for us.¡±


    ¡°At your residence, I presume?¡±


    Cole nodded.


    ¡°Very good. I shall schedule each candidate at one-hour intervals, beginning at nine o¡¯clock with Mrs. Guinnosa, followed by Miss Embreau, then Mr. Lars, and lastly, Mr. Hartwell.¡±

 Chapter 34: Interview (1)

    The drawing room was clearly designed for receiving nobility, a stage set centuries ago for formal interactions, and maintained here in Celdorne. But that established purpose didn¡¯t make it feel any less like conducting business inside a high-end furniture showroom for Cole. Everything: the fancy-ass leather, the whole vibe of the place: conveyed an expectation of old-money elegance completely at odds with a functional personnel assessment. Hell, this entire room looked like it¡¯d be cordoned off with velvet ropes at the Smithsonian. Just the simple action of laying his ass on his own furniture would probably be enough to make some curator weep.


    Reservations like this never came to Miles, apparently. He had plopped down on one of the seats, hanging a leg over an armrest with enough irreverence to earn a frown from Elina. ¡°Like eating MREs off of fine china,¡± he¡¯d said.


    It was surreal to think about, but that was the new normal they¡¯d have to get used to. Same went for the role reversal itself: being the one asking the questions instead of fielding them. Usually, interviews were bureaucratic hurdles jumped under the charming ambiance of fluorescent lights in soul-crushing offices. And his own experience picking people involved vetting operators where a bad fit didn¡¯t just mean awkward team lunches; it meant potentially getting people killed.


    Now? He was basically just hiring maids. Necessary work, no doubt, especially given their operational tempo and general cluelessness about local customs. But applying the same critical assessment developed for choosing fire team members to picking household staff was just something he¡¯d never expected to do.


    And first up was their heavy-hitter, Tenna Guinnosa. Her file was impeccable, exactly why she topped the list. ¡°Would we even need the full hour?¡± he wondered aloud.


    ¡°Well, reckon we don¡¯t got much choice,¡± Miles said, shrugging. ¡°That chef lady ain¡¯t gettin¡¯ here ¡®til ten, so we¡¯re gonna have to use that time somehow.¡±


    Elina glanced over. ¡°A tour, perchance?¡±


    Cole nodded. ¡°Guess so. Wouldn¡¯t hurt to show her around her new workplace.¡± He sighed. ¡°Gonna have to get used to a lot of things.¡±


    Miles stretched out on his chair, crossing his legs at the ankle. ¡°I do declare,¡± he announced, affecting what had to be the worst attempt at a Victorian accent Cole had ever heard, ¡°we must ensure our potential housekeeper understands the dignified nature of our most distinguished household.¡± He pantomimed holding a teacup with his pinky extended.


    "Your butchery of proper elocution wounds me deeply, Sir Miles,¡± Elina replied, rolling her eyes with a smile. ¡°Were my childhood tutors to hear such an attempt, they¡¯d surely demand the return of their fees.¡±


    ¡°What, this ain¡¯t how y¡¯all talk?¡± Miles grinned. ¡°Thought I was doin¡¯ pretty good.¡±


    ¡°About as good as your attempt at a burger yesterday,¡± Ethan said, earning a laugh from everyone.


    ¡°Now that ain¡¯t fair. Them patties were... experimental. Nobody told me that stuff wasn¡¯t salt!¡±


    ¡°Well, I do have to give it to you,¡± Mack admitted. ¡°The ketchup was pretty decent. It ain¡¯t Heinz, but I guess it¡¯s a good enough reference for an actual chef.¡±


    Three knocks on the door put a pause to their banter. Cole rose from his seat. ¡°Looks like she¡¯s already here.¡±


    Cole reached the door first, straightening his clothes slightly before opening it. Punctuality already earned a point in her favor.


    The sight that greeted him upon opening the door was pretty much what the file suggested. Tenna Guinnosa stood there, looking like an actress who¡¯d shown up to audition in some Sherlock Holmes movie: graying hair precisely pinned above sharp, intelligent features. Everything about her signaled quiet competence and an expectation of absolute order. She gave the obligatory title and curtsy. ¡°Sir Cole. Mrs. Tenna Guinnosa, at your service.¡±


    ¡°Mrs. Guinnosa. Come in.¡± He stepped aside, holding the door open. ¡°Thanks for coming.¡±


    He shook her hand and led her back toward the drawing room where the others were waiting. They¡¯d spent maybe ten minutes collectively going over her file, but only as a formality.


    Cole leaned forward, deciding to cut through the preamble. ¡°Mrs. Guinnosa, our situation isn¡¯t standard. We¡¯ve got this place,¡± he gestured vaguely at the expensive backdrop, ¡°but running it effectively isn¡¯t our primary skillset. So let¡¯s forget the specific job ads for a moment. We understand the title comes with certain... obligations. Don¡¯t wanna carry them out, of course, but there¡¯s only so many excuses we can throw out to dodge that. What will you need to maintain the uh... the residence, and how will that change in case we have to y¡¯know, throw up some soiree or something?¡±


    She didn¡¯t hesitate, even though she made a show of considering it for a moment. ¡°For a residence of this standing, Sir Cole, the customary arrangement would require, at minimum, two chamber maids for the maintenance of the living quarters and personal attendance, and a footman for general service and presentation. Such would suffice for daily requirements.¡±


    Just three more hires? Not bad; Cole had expected a lot more.


    ¡°Should you find occasion to entertain,¡± she continued, ¡°the household would require at least four more service staff for a modest gathering, alongside supplementary kitchen assistance.¡±


    ¡°And you could assemble the three extra staff... how quickly?¡± Ethan asked.


    ¡°I should be prepared to present suitable candidates for your lordship¡¯s consideration within a month. Should there be ample availability, a week,¡± she answered confidently.


    ¡°A week is pretty fast,¡± Cole noted. ¡°I assume you¡¯re getting them from the OTAC registry, but how do you know if they¡¯re a good fit beyond that?¡±


    ¡°One learns to look beyond the presented letters, Sir Cole,¡± Tenna replied. ¡°I make discreet inquiries about a candidate¡¯s character and reliability through trusted channels. In conversation, you watch for honesty in the eyes, quickness of mind, and a steady nerve. A servant¡¯s history of steadfast loyalty speaks more persuasively than the most eloquent testimonial. Moreover, there exists a particular quality in the bearing of those who comprehend that discretion ranks foremost among the virtues of service. Three decades in diplomatic households has afforded one the ability to discern those for whom silence is as natural as breath.¡±


    ¡°So, kinda what we did to find you, except you''re not operating on guesswork,¡± Mack said.


    The woman nodded.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Her responses here were really all they needed to confirm her as a hire. All that was left was to assess how she felt.


    Elina leaned forward in her seat. ¡°You are, I trust, aware that the Heroes fall somewhat outside conventional hierarchies. Does that concern you: or mayhaps even intrigue you?"


    The words sparked a confident smile. ¡°I should consider it a matter of concern only insofar as it might obscure the proper execution of household duties, Lady Elina. As to the question of interest...¡± She gave the barest hint of a shrug. ¡°Frankly, almost anything presents a more appealing challenge than navigating the endless protocols and wounded pride of most diplomatic envoys. Managing practicalities: even the eccentricities of Heroes, I should say: holds far more interest.¡±


    Cole glanced at the others, who all gave nods. ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    They covered the remaining operational details: schedules, reporting, contingencies. Her answers remained solid and logical; she didn¡¯t need micromanagement, and Cole could respect that.


    ¡°Last point,¡± Cole said. ¡°When can you start?¡±


    ¡°I stand prepared to assume my duties forthwith, should your lordship so desire.¡±


    Cole nodded. ¡°Alright. We¡¯ll contact you through OTAC soon. Thanks for your time.¡±


    He walked her to the door, but when he pulled it open, he found another woman already waiting outside: Lisara Embreau. Much like King Armonde, half-elven features gave her an almost ageless quality. But her hands told the real story, sporting callouses only a career cook might have.


    ¡°Mrs. Guinnosa! And Sir Cole!¡± She greeted them, ¡°I am Lisara Embreau, head cook to the late Viscount Halven, though I trust Mrs. Guinnosa can speak to my service better than I might do myself.¡±


    Tenna gave her a nod. ¡°Miss Embreau speaks true,¡± she said, turning to Cole. ¡°His Lordship did often say the diplomats were far easier after she had the handling of the meals.¡± She turned back to Lisara. ¡°I¡¯ve just discussed how I might maintain a household befitting Sir Cole¡¯s station.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Lisara tilted her head back, ¡°then it seems I¡¯ve arrived at a perfect time: for surely even the finest household would be found wanting without proper attention to its culinary arrangements.¡±


    Tenna smiled and offered a curtsy to Cole. ¡°I shall leave you to your interview, then.¡±


    After she left, Cole led Lisara to the drawing room and went through introductions. Unlike Tenna¡¯s calculating once-over, the cook didn¡¯t bother hiding her interest in the place. ¡°A fine residence,¡± she commented. ¡°I should be most interested to see the kitchen arrangements. Though perhaps they remain largely untested thus far?¡±


    Cole caught Miles trying not to laugh. ¡°Uh... yeah, you could say that.¡±


    Lisara picked up on Miles¡¯ reaction. ¡°Oh? I take it Sir Miles has made some attempts at culinary art?¡±


    ¡°Well...¡± Miles scratched the back of his head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t exactly call it art, per se.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, more like experiments,¡± Mack snorted.


    ¡°See, I prefer... ¡®works in progress.¡¯ Been tryna whip up some dishes from back home. Burgers, specifically. Meat between bread with toppings: simple enough, but I ain¡¯t well-versed with the ingredients here.¡±


    Lisara glanced at Cole. ¡°A practical exam, then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, if you¡¯re down for the challenge,¡± he confirmed. ¡°Figured it¡¯d do us better than a formal interview. Best way to know if someone can cook is to watch ¡®em cook, right?¡±


    She gave a soft chuckle. ¡°I should hope it be a reprieve from navigating the palates of nobility, though I admit: if it can best Sir Miles, then perhaps I should remain humble. Very well,¡± she nodded. ¡°I accept this challenge.¡±


    Miles led the way to the kitchen, where his collection of ingredients sat arranged on the counter: ground meat from a local livestock that approximated beef, various spices and herbs in small containers, freshly baked buns, and several small bowls containing reddish substances.


    ¡°Behold: my tragic attempts at ketchup,¡± Miles said, gesturing toward the bowls. ¡°Sauce from back home. Sweet, tangy, made from tomatoes, vinegar, sugar, salt, all that. Took me a hell of a time tryna get the damn thing to taste right.¡±


    Lisara approached the counter, surveying the ingredients. ¡°Might I inquire as to the nature of this ¡®burger¡¯? I should like to understand its essential character before attempting its preparation.¡±


    After a brief explanation of what constituted a burger, Lisara sized up the challenge. Cole¡¯s experiences had taught him to recognize true professionals across any discipline; usually, it came down to a mastery of fundamentals and outright confidence, even in the face of new challenges. Lisara had this in spades.


    Even as she tested Miles¡¯ ketchup attempts, that slight eyebrow raise and smirk told Cole everything. She had it all figured out, even before she started.


    Lisara began by seasoning the meat: kaelen beef, if he recalled the name correctly. It didn¡¯t look any different to how he¡¯d handle his own patties, but watching her work, he could tell she actually understood what she was doing. When Miles mentioned the need for fat content, she immediately added just the right amount of tallow without measuring, the way Mack might know exactly how much morphine to administer without checking the dosage twice.


    While the shaped patties rested, Lisara tried her hand at the ketchup. Rather than trying to salvage any of Miles¡¯ versions, she started fresh, combining the tomato variants Miles had prepared with vinegar, sugar, and a series of spices Cole didn¡¯t recognize. She let the mixture simmer while she cooked the meat, occasionally stirring, tasting, and adjusting with small additions from the spice jars. When it reached the right consistency, she cooled it to room temperature with simple ice magic.


    The burgers smelled exactly like backyard grill food: the distinctive aroma of Fourth of July cookouts. When Lisara presented them, perfectly assembled with her freshly made sauce, Cole¡¯s stomach began to override his brain. He¡¯d have never guessed the first person to truly channel the essence of American cookery in this world would be a half-elven local. Though, that claim needed taste confirmation first; smell was just half the battle.


    Miles took the first bite. His eyes widened, followed by that expression of pure culinary ecstasy: half-closed eyes, a slight nod, complete attention on what was happening in his mouth, and a moan that¡¯d normally be reserved for orgasms.


    Ethan went next, his first bite tentative. His second bite, though? Unequivocally decisive. ¡°Yeah, wow. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d think we were at some gastropub in like, Virginia. Mmm. That sauce is banger.¡±


    Cole tried his. The first bite hit him with a burst of unexpected flavor. The meat yielded perfectly under his teeth: none of the mystery gristle or cartilage surprises that came with industrial-processed ground beef back home. One advantage of a pre-industrial world: when meat got ground, it wasn¡¯t in some massive facility processing thousands of carcasses daily with questionable quality control. This was just good kaelen meat, properly butchered, with nothing hidden in the mix.


    And whatever she¡¯d done with the seasonings, combined with that perfect sauce: it activated something primal in his brain. For a single, perfect moment, he wasn¡¯t in some fantasy world; he was back home at some summer barbecue, complete with the background sensation of ice-cold beer and the distant sound of someone¡¯s shitty portable speaker playing country music.


    ¡°Damn,¡± was all he could manage at first. After another bite, he found his words. ¡°This is actually good, period. And that sauce: yeah, that¡¯s better than normal ketchup.¡±


    Mack nodded in agreement. ¡°Hell, this might well be the finest non-wagyu burger I¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    Even Elina, who had never seen a burger in her entire life, had to attest to Lisara¡¯s culinary expertise. She said nothing, but her reaction alone was well worth a thousand words.


    Cole was just about ready to get into a culinary review when someone rang the doorbell. He glanced down at his watch: that must be Darin, right on time. ¡°Shit.¡± He turned to Lisara. ¡°Sorry for going a bit overboard.¡±


    The cook raised an eyebrow, but caught the meaning well enough. ¡°Oh, you needn¡¯t concern yourself. It was truly a pleasure to handle this challenge.¡±


    Mack frowned. ¡°Damn, wish we coulda spent more time on this.¡± He glanced at the remaining burgers, then back toward the hallway, grinning as an idea took shape. ¡°Wait a sec, this might work out perfectly.¡±


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Cole asked.


    ¡°Darin¡¯s got a commerce background, right?¡± Mack nodded toward the plates of food. ¡°Let¡¯s see what he can do with those merchant skills.¡±