Spires

Inside a nondescript office a handful of blocks away from the burning tower a lone zombie shambled into a desk over and over until it suddenly stopped.

He, for the zombie was once a stout man in the prime of his life, froze.

Not a dead muscle twitched, nor did he moan.

Then he jerked as though he had been tased.

Bloody fingers emerged from his mouth.

Arms and legs splayed.

Flesh tore, starting from his mouth.

Like a zipper that ran straight down his neck and chest, branching down the center of his arms and legs.

Hands followed fingers.

An auburn-haired head streaked with gore pushed through.

Necromancer Cindy Traynor shucked the zombie’s flesh like a coat.

Her dark green robes were wet with gore.

She pointed a finger at her face.

“Cleanse.”

She didn’t mind the smell or the feel thanks to a Skill.

Sure, those that crowed about optimization would’ve said it was a waste of a slot. That she needed to just ‘man up’ and deal with it. Or wear a mask. Enchantments to filter odors were cheap and easily available. Every enchanter she had ever come across could do it to a minimum standard. It was easy money, points and experience. Supply followed demand.

Then again, most of those people had fallen by the wayside over the years.

She remained.

Close to Level 50 now.

She wasn’t going to win the contest, no.

It was Holly Foster’s.

She cast a spell on the pile of dead rodents and insects in the center of the room.

Faint green glowed in their eyes as she sent them out to scout.

The undead in the tower would last without her direct connection long enough to keep those men occupied. Time for her to go to one of the bolt holes she had prepared all over the city.

The flying ship was a concern, but that was one of the reasons she had approached the fishmen for a temporary alliance.

The rangers would need to deal with those eldritch things before searching for her proverbial needle in a haystack.

Which was just as well.

She didn’t like the feel of the Deep Azure’s presence even as faint as it was.

A dark, deep, swirling abyss wasn’t something she ever intended to jump into. Not even for the legitimate promise of power.

No.

Her power would be her own.

There were so many things to do. To think about.

She tried not to count her rewards before the spires doled them out.

Spells, Skills, Universal Points and attribute points were just the beginning.

All of those things were more than she had hoped for at the start of the Slasher’s Spree.

But what she was really looking forward to was the magic artifact or artifacts that had been promised.

Second place guaranteed one of greater strength than anything that human hands could make currently.

She had a few days to think about it.

Then the contest would end and she would be transported back to her secret lair.

Alin Cruces.

Her instincts told her that she had discovered important information.

Valuable information.

It would take time and planning to extract as much benefit from it as possible.

When it came to secrets, there were always two sides to the equation.

Those that wanted them exposed and those that wanted them buried.

It was only a matter of finding out which would give her more.

The meeting point was in an alley between two squat buildings in the shadow of the gutted remains of the Tower.

Two days and nights had passed.

Today was the last day.

The contest would end at midnight.

The spires would transport the surviving slashers to their points of origin through, presumably, magic. The most powerful teleportation spell in existence to reach anywhere in the world with ease and comfort.

The surviving locals would be left with the trauma of the month-long slaughter.

It remained to be seen if they would also be on the hook for the automatic repair costs.

Beyond that, so many fighters had been killed or murdered.

Some neighborhoods had gone to battle with other neighborhoods over old grudges.

Spawn zones had grown rife, flooding the streets with monsters.

Fishmen lurked beneath the waters, though the Raynanaut had put them to flight in freeing the people the scaly bastards had penned up in cages on the river banks and beaches like crabs in a trap.

Kat, Victor and Luzi had seen battle up close and personal.

Their first time against that caliber of opposition.

No one died, so it had gone as well as it could have.

Alin hadn’t been there.

He had been scouring the city with Howard, Adrian and Marian in the shuttle.

A few cultist groups had needed stopping.

Ritual sacrifices had been stopped and prisoners collected for his dad to interrogate.

Those circles were all the same, yet the separate groups making them weren’t connected.

Each had come from a different part of the world.

He tried to keep his thoughts off the Raynanaut’s medical section.

It had been filled to capacity.

The one mercy was that no one else had died after that terrible night.

The Tsingtao Wanderer.

He, Howard and Adrian had cleared the rubble, searching for hours until they found the cultivator’s body.

The drunken master could dispense more wisdom, some of it legit, when 12 beers deep better than sober philosophers.

He had always found the wanderer entertaining.

Rand was a cocky dick, but not in a malicious way.

And Alin couldn’t say anything bad about a man that willing obliterated himself with magic fighting for his team.

The wizard had backed up all the words he had talked.

Some would call it a light toll, but only if they didn’t count the thousands of people that were killed that night.

Flooded streets had run red with blood.

Despite their weary bones, they had done what they could to help the shell-shocked survivors, whether it was keeping them safe from the monsters while they searched for bodies or digging through the rubble themselves.

They couldn’t have done more.

They didn’t do enough.

Tires squealed around the corner.

The truck swerved, fishtailing on the slick roads.

The spires could put a barrier up that kept the Raynanaut from rising above 400 meters, yet let in rain.

The driver hit the breaks and nearly skidded into a light pole.

Alin lowered his recoilless rifle.

Holly hopped out.

“Stupid tires. Why are they so big?” She kicked a comically over-sized tire. The petite woman of indeterminate age regarded him for a moment. “You feel more dangerous. Congratulations,” she said flatly.

“And you’re alive. I thought that maybe the demon clown delayed got you when you didn’t show up that night.”

“You’re right. He did get me.” She pulled up her shirt, revealing stained bandages.

“Do you need healing? I have stuff.”

“If it’s the same as the stuff I have, then no. That weird gel didn’t do more than keep things closed. Most of my healing was because of a Skill. Still slow though. Skill against Skill. Lindsay the clown had a few levels on me and a higher grade of class thanks to that demon. Which is somewhere out there.”

“Scans have come up empty so far.”

“It’s hiding. Everyone is hiding. No one wants to risk losing everything they’ve gained on the last day.”

“You?”

“I’ve followed your father’s instructions and accomplished the main goal. I win. No one else gets the top prize. We continue as before.”

“You’re a lot stronger.”

“Yes. That is the point.”

“So, why’d you call me out here?”

“This.”

Holly led him to the back of the truck.

A bound man, gagged and blindfolded wiggled like a pig.

“He and his cabalmates managed to creep into the top 20. They decided to hide out close to my own secret place. It was a mistake.”

“Cabal?”

“They were setting up one of those ritual circles. Serendipitous meetings. Your father will want to interrogate this one. So will Ghost Sorcerer.”

The Cabal mage stiffened at the name.

Holly held up a finger.

“Yes. Ghost Sorcerer would do anything to this man to find out where Cambion is hiding these days,” she said flatly.

Yup.

The man recognized the names judging by how deathly still he had gone.

Like a mouse in the gaze of a snake.

“Are the rest of them tied up back there?”

Holly shrugged.

“Dead.”

Of course they were.

Alin reached for the man.

She raised her hand.

“Keep the truck.” She headed for the alley. “Tell your father I’ll be waiting at the same place for the debrief.”

Alin fired a flare for pickup.

Comms were still shaky up close and practically useless at a distance.

Monsters lurked, eyeing him from behind building corners and broken windows.

He regarded the cabal mage.

“I hope they get here before those monsters get us.”

His limbs were lead, but he raised the rifle nonetheless.

The gray responded. Thickening around him and wrapping wispy coils around the unaware monsters.

“Otherwise we’re in trouble.”

The man writhed, moaning something.

Alin noticed a small puddle of blood beneath the man’s bare feet.

Achilles and soles had been injured.

“She Pet Semetaried you and made you do a Die Hard…”

Well.

He was Cabal.

It was likely he had done worse to other, likely, innocent people.

“I should leave you to the monsters!” he snapped with sudden anger.

No.

He took a deep breath and drained the monsters.

The rain-soaked street was quiet and peaceful once again by the time Marian brought the shuttle around.

Responsibility.

Priorities.

It was difficult to place what one truly wanted to do lower on the list when reality dictated one did so.

Cal wanted to fly Nila and the rest in critical condition straight home.

However, the medical facilities on the Raynanaut were exactly the same as in any of the hospitals down south.

The only variable was Megan and a handful of higher level medical personnel.

In any case, their condition was stable.

He could save them hours transit, but it wouldn’t make a difference.

Finding and destroying the demon that had escaped the clown’s death was near the top of the list.

Then there was the general need to deal with the aftermath for the city of Vancouver.

The number of deaths in a relatively small area had saturated it with death-aspected mana, which meant undead.

Spawn zones needed to be cleared and reverted to encounter challenges.

The survivors needed protection, sometimes from other survivors.

Supplies wouldn’t be an issue.

He had already claimed a superstore that could fulfill all their needs, from food to medicine and everything in between.

Other scavengers lurked on the outskirts of the city. They had not been in the contest area. Either through luck or planning, like the battalion of soldiers from the old American government that had moved into position over the 30 day period.

A quick chat with the general and the eidolons had snuffed their dreams of claiming territory. They were certainly free to help protect the people from monsters and such strictly out of the goodness of their hearts and without expectation of receiving anything in return as dictated in the book they claimed to follow.

Oh, there were a lot of monsters still. They continued to be drawn to the city from the bay and the massive northern wilderness. They alone represented a steady supply of levels and points for the foreseeable future.

The dead were on the list. Rather, their families. Words would need to be spoken. They would feel like iron weights on his tongue, yet would bounce right off their targets like soap bubbles before bursting. Words could never be enough to ease the pain of a lost loved one.

His powers let him feel their pain as if they were his own, but even that felt wrong for he had not truly gone through that level of crushing loss. He hadn’t lost any of the people he held closest to his heart.

Rand hadn’t left anything to bury.

The Tsingtao Wanderer hadn’t left anyone to mourn him aside from the team as far as Cal knew. He hadn’t pried too deeply into the drunken cultivator’s mind. Just enough for the vetting process. He owed it to the man to search for next of kin. If only to let them know the wanderer’s deeds.

Alin was at the top of his list.

His son’s powers had changed. Grown stronger, but in doing so opened up paths. Good, bad and in between.

At least he had already altered the memories of Death’s Dancer and Alcaestus. Of those that had witnessed Alin’s power use up close and had their interests piqued only the necromancer, Cindy Traynor remained a loose end.

Many threads had escaped from their grasp.

Captured cultist-types had vanished from the Raynanaut’s hangar upon the contest ending. The spires’ doing.

At least they had taken pictures, video and collected DNA.

They wouldn’t be able to hide for long with their identities disseminated freely through a variety of methods.

Cal suspected that the spires’ bounty system would bear the quickest fruit.

So many people needed visiting.

The Phoenix Empress. The Queen of London. The Eidolon of Sunor. And dozens of other head’s of state, mercenary company leadership and the like. From the small to the big. They had all, allegedly, sent people to join the slasher side of the contest.

But first, his son.

Alin was in the hangar working on his power armor.

“Yo, Boy.”

“What’s up, Dad?” Alin placed the multi-tool on the workbench.

“Just checking in. Your mom’s doing well.”

“I visited her this morning.” Alin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “She’s still in the coma.”

“Yeah, but her vitals are steady.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Try to make me feel better. I’m not a kid and this isn’t at all like that time I accidentally led them into that ambush.”

“Yeah, well, you’re brooding.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Lee was murdered. Kat and my other friends almost got murdered. Mom’s not the only one in a coma. Rand blew himself up. The wanderer is dead. I— I felt thousands of people die. I didn’t realize it at the time, but— but what if I accidentally took that last bit of life from them? What if some of those people would still be alive if I hadn’t…”

“Let’s start with that. Maybe you’re right, but you also have to consider the inverse. How many people alive today would’ve died that night had you not done what you did? If you want to know for sure or as close as possible, we can do a deep dive into your memories. You won’t have to re-live them. I’ll take care of it. I’ll just give you the numbers or whatever information you want.”

Alin picked up the tool and returned to work.

Silence stretched.

“Yeah, okay, but I want to know. I mean, I want to be there fully. It was their lives. That’s, like, my responsibility.”

“You’ve more than fulfilled whatever responsibility you had to anyone here. We’ll do the full debrief after this mess has been fixed a bit. I’m going to take time away from world events for you and everyone that took part in this.” Cal’s gaze fell to his son’s left hand. “You know, fathers want their sons to take after them. The wise ones want them to emulate the good and not the bad.” He wiggled his prosthetic fingers. “You’re halfway there, but how about you don’t finish?”

“No offense, Dad, but I never wanted to copy you on that.”

“Well, I know it’s too soon, but what are you thinking for that?”

“About my hand?” Alin shrugged. “I don’t know. Magitech or Aunt Megan. I guess those are my only options. But, it might not matter what I want. The fishman could’ve used a Skill or his bone axe was enchanted or the mages had an area of effect spell going at the time. Anything strong enough might mess with Aunt Megan’s magic.”

“Won’t know until she tries. She regrew Tessa’s arm and your cousin lost it to Vukylokyr. I’m not sure, but I’d guess an impossibly ancient true vampire trumps fishmen.”

“They could be ancient too, right? You said some of them are hundreds of years old. And they’ve got an eldritch monster backing them.”

“Technically true, but the Deep Azure’s little more than a vague spiritual presence at the moment. Kind of a double-edged sword. It can’t act directly, but at the same time there’s nothing for me to try to destroy.”

“I guess I’ll find out in a few hours if she can grow them back. If not then I’ll start thinking about what features I want in my new fingers. Either way not knowing won’t hang over my head for days.”

“There is something to be said about certainty.”

“See, I’m fine, Dad. I don’t want a talk right now. But I would like one later when you have time.”

“Always.”

“No, no. I’m not going to take you away from saving people just cause I’ve got… concerns.”

“Well, think of it this way… how many people will you save by being at your best?”

“Then, I have to stop being scared of myself.”

“It’s less about being afraid and more about being knowledgeable. The more control you have over your powers the more confident you’ll be in its use. Things that lead to less fear, which in turn creates more confidence and control. Like one of those snakes eating its own tail things.”

“I know. You’ve said that before and because I didn’t— things could’ve, should’ve gone differently. If I was like you—”

“Going to stop you there, Boy. You’re not me. I’m not you. We, all of us, can only do what we can do.”

“Yeah, but if you had been here it would’ve been easy. Or if I was stronger. If I could spread the gray over a larger area. If I could call on them at will. If I could’ve beaten their magic. If—”

“We can’t do it over. The only thing we can do is be better for the next time.”

“I’ll need your help to do that.”

“Like I said, you have my time when you want it.”

“Okay.” Alin nodded. “I’ll get time off from rangers as soon as I get back. Can we start as soon as possible?”

“Sure. After a full debrief and medical and psychological tests. No buts! Good physical and mental health are important. Especially, considering how important your psyche is to your powers.”

“Yeah, that’s fine… I mean, I’ll do what I have to.”

Cal hugged his son.

“Listen, Boy. I’ve read preliminary reports. Captain Molds. Hayden. Howard. Yours. You did great on all our metrics. Not just for a first time in a such a high level danger scenario, but in general. You more than held your own against dangerous people and things. And, I know you don’t see it this way, but your presence, your actions kept people alive. I know these words aren’t enough right now, but you’ll see when we do that deep dive.”

Alin squeezed tight. “I’ll try to think that, Dad.”

“Don’t keep it all inside. Talking about it helps. And it doesn’t have to be with me or family. Keep this in mind. Other people will be dealing with their own traumas from this shitshow. You can help them while they help you. You’re not alone in thinking you could’ve done more.”

The Raynanaut and the entire city was permeated with guilt.

Not a person didn’t think of what they could’ve done differently so that a fellow ranger didn’t take a bullet to the head or that a daughter’s laughter didn’t just live in their memories or a father wouldn’t have been eaten alive to keep the zombies out of the emergency bunker.

“Alright, so, you’ve got my schedule. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything. I’ll be based in the city while I search for the demon and make sure there aren’t any more fishmen nearby. The Raynagon is on her way. The rangers and the troops from Seattle should be more than enough to keep the peace and the monsters away from the inhabited portions while keeping old America from getting greedy. Once she gets here, you’ll be on your way home. If I don’t find the demon then I’ll have to station a team here in case it pops up after I leave. That way they can buy time for me to come back and take care of it.”

“Uh… are you asking for my thoughts?”

“Sure. What do you think?”

“Um… I’d guess there’s a good chance the demon will want another host, symbiosis thing. So, maybe look for clowns and slashers in the area? If one person had both classes then they’re a priority target. I don’t know for sure, but I’d bet there’s someone with a clown class. It’s not exactly rare. And I’d bet that there’s a slasher if not more than one willing to demon up. I know for a fact that something like, 20-30 locals took the slasher class for the contest. I haven’t checked the event page so I don’t know how many made it all the way through the contest alive.”

“5 of them did. They think they’re in hiding right now. I’m keeping my eyes on them for now. Might be good demon bait.” He tapped his temple. “Good assessment though. So, want any help with the maintenance?”

“Only if it won’t hurt your search.”

“I’m multi-tasking. Besides, I don’t want to be too obvious with the hunting. Lull it into a false sense of security, you know?”

“Cool. I guess if you want to look at the leg thrusters. Water got in and it was, like, magical water or something weirder.”

Slasher Level 47 –> Slasher Level 50. Hidden Knife of the Psionic Prime Level 18 –> Hidden Knife of the Psionic Prime Level 21.

Hidden Knife of the Psionic Prime Level 21, Slasher Level 50.

Telekinesis. Remote Viewing: Preferred Target. The Leopards Fear My Whispers…

15 Free Attribute Points.

1 Free class Skill slot: Slasher.

1 Free class Skill slot: Hidden Knife of the Psionic Prime.

Tendon-cutter Butcher Knife.

Airhorn of Demon Clown Laughter.

Greater Pouch of Holding.

Demonbane Necklace.

Greater Healing Potion x20. Greater Stamina Potion x20. Greater Shadow Grenade x5. Greater Blood Smoke Grenade x5. Total Silence Grenade x5.

5106907 Universal Points.

Title: 1st Slashers’ Spree Victor, Vancouver, Earth.

Slashers’ Spree Medal.

The small medal had passive bonuses and active Skills.

Holly decided the effort had been more than worth it.

…

The amount of Universal Points he received made Alin’s eyes widen. As for the rest of the rewards only one thing stood out.

Demonbane Ring: +5% to attacks against demons. +5% to defense against demons. Anathema to demons.

He could’ve used it earlier.

As for the rest of the items?

Nothing stood out as significantly better than what he already had access to. Excepting the greater versions of potions and other consumables.

…

Aquatic Combat System.

…

Ice Wizard Level 31 -> Ice Wizard Level 37. Mana Discharge. Greater Mana Pool. Aura: The Frozen Sea.

6 Free Attribute Points.

2 Free Spellbook Pages.

…

Cold Mist Warrior Level 33 -> Cold Mist Warrior Level 40. Stamina Well. Mist Bullet. Domain: Rime of The Bleak Barrens.

5 Free Attribute Points.

1 Free Skill.

1 Free Spell.

Mist Sword of Te’argren.

…

Ranger Priest Level 44 -> Ranger Priest Level 47. Eldritchbane. My Lord’s Prayer, Life For Life…

4 Free Attribute Points.

1 Free Skill.

2 Free Spells.

Scapular of Protection: +8% to defense.

…

Clawed Gauntlet of Life Mana.

Spell Rifle of Dune Hollow.

Demonbane Bracelet: +5% to defense against demons. Anathema to demons.

…

Demonsmasher Bat: +11% to attacks against demons. Anathema to demons.

Demonbane Ring: +5% to attacks against demons. +5% to defense against demons. Anathema to demons.

…

Cultivator Level 42 -> Demonfighter Cultivator Level 48. Demonbane Qi Strikes.

11 Free Attribute Points.

4 Free Skills.

Fox Mask of the Titanium Body.

Demonbane Steel Knuckleduster: +9% to attacks against demons. Anathema to demons.

…

Flicker Rogue Level 56 -> Demonfighter Flicker Rogue Level 57. Cultist-killer Blades. I Wound Demons…

17 Free Attribute Points.

5 Free Skills.

Demonslayer Dagger: +25% to attacks against demons. Anathema to demons.

…

Tesla Coil Unit.

Bone Hammer of the Deepest Ones.

Azurian Eye.

…

All that survived gained.

Not all believed that it had been worth the costs.

New York, Summer 2052

The Eidolon of Sunor had sent him a message.

A meeting under an oath of peace.

Naturally, that put Cal’s guard up.

The magic scroll had disintegrated into a glowing copy of golden light.

Two in fact.

One for him and one for the Eidolon of Ekra to take back.

Peace.

Essentially, the attendees could do no violence to each other for the duration of the meeting and a day afterward.

He had felt the weight of the magic, something had told him that he could try to break it, but he wouldn’t like the consequences if he succeeded.

Manhattan to the northeast across the dark waters of the bay.

People.

The old government.

No more giant spiders.

A wide swath of land remained a blasted crater.

The spires’ automatic building repair features had proved weaker than the energy contained within the Zalthyss shell.

He wondered if the government would eventually spend points to repair the glassing.

He had noticed it all from orbit as he had descended.

The Statue of Liberty was covered with small shapes.

It had looked like ants crawling all over a person from the distance.

They were doing more than cleaning it.

He took it for the message that it was.

Speaking of, he landed on the roof of the immigration museum on Ellis Island, which was a stone’s flick north of Liberty Island, the old lady’s home.

“Ah! Welcome!”

The man was taller than him, which wasn’t saying much. He was physical perfection in the flesh.

Human by appearance, but clearly from another world.

It was the facial features that recalled a Southeast Asian and darker skin than any on Earth, close to obsidian, that made it obvious.

Oh, and the golden hair of his brows and perfectly groomed beard.

Oddly enough, he wore jeans and a t-shirt that could’ve come from any old store in the country.

The only item of clothing that spoke to the man’s outworld origin was the black helmet.

And what a strange helmet it was with its long, bulbous head, like the busts of a certain pharaoh that some people in the distant past claimed had alien origins.

In a way those grifters had been right.

Aliens did exist.

They just didn’t come on flying saucers.

Nope.

They came through multiversal spires.

And the timing.

The timing was all wrong.

“I will save you the recitation of my deeds. My understanding is that your culture doesn’t do that.” The man held out a hand.

Cal took it.

A firm squeeze both ways despite the difference in size more akin to a large adult and a small child.

The man didn’t seek to impose dominance so he responded in kind with the exact same pressure.

He tried to scan the man’s surface thoughts and slid right off the strange helmet.

That one instant unleashed realization.

Not a sudden one.

He sped up his perceptions.

Hours worth of thought, of reviewing memories within fractions of a second.

“I am Suiteonemiades, demigod son of Suiteonem. I don’t say that to brag. It’s a rule I have to follow if I want to keep his favor. Truly, I’d prefer the name my demigod mother gave me before I was taken from her arms, Phosfuriae. Phos for those that aren’t my enemies.”

“Cal, but you already knew that. First eidolons, then a demigod. When do I meet an actual god?”

“I sense the disrespect. You say god when it is God.”

“I have no idea how you could’ve possibly gotten that impression. I’ve always given your gods the respect they deserve.”

“Which is none.” Suiteonemiades sighed. “I suppose it fits your limited perspective. After all, how can the primitive know and accept that they are such without a greater to compare themselves to?”

“I’m not really interested in… any of this. You wanted to meet. So, I’m here.”

“Ah, yes. World events have not slowed. A year of this. How much more can your world take, I wonder? It’s lucrative. I can only imagine how much you’ve made.”

“And I’m leaving.” He rose off the roof.

“I called you here for one reason.”

“Which is?”

“The last offer.”

“Then you’ve wasted both our times. The Eidolon of Sunor has my answer to any and all of your offers.”

“Yes. She had passed those along. Regardless, it is my responsibility to avoid unnecessary suffering if at all possible. You may reject it, but at least stay long enough to listen. I wouldn’t want you to complain later. I want you to fully comprehend what refusal will mean for you and this world.”

“Do you know how many people from other worlds have delivered a similar sounding message?”

“Many. And a few were rather powerful enough to be treated with the proper gravitas.”

“And yet, we’re still here and as for them. They either got to go back to their homeworlds or refused the opportunity.”

“Are you the sort to treat a defeated foe with honor or not?”

“I’ve always been a give back what they gave me sort of person. So, what are you going to give?”

“I offer the full support of the Gods. The entire pantheon—”

“Which one is that again? I’ve had so many talks with reps of so-called ‘gods’ that it’s getting harder to keep the different groups straight.”

The obsidian-skinned demigod’s green eyes flashed like a volcanic eruption for a split-second. He wouldn’t have noticed without his enhanced perception.

“My apologies. I seem to have angered you. I’m sorry my words made you feel that way.”

“False apologies are none at all.”

“That is true. Sorry, please continue with the elevator pitch. I did sign that magic scroll, so I have to listen.”

“You lack respect, but allowances must be made for one so young. If I review my memories, I will undoubtedly find many a moment where I, too, behaved with all the arrogance born from the ignorance of callow youth. Regardless, the offer. Full support of my pantheon, whom you are familiar with, against everyone and everything else. Demigods, eidolons and armies. Relics, artifacts, spells and technology. Nothing will be held back. In exchange, you will swear a binding oath. A contract of fealty in service for one century. At which point you will have seen the benefits of becoming a pantheon world. Some Gods will offer a more direct oath. You will be free to swear to one or remain unaligned if it is decided that this, being a Terminus World, shouldn’t be held in a single God’s hand. Between us, I suspect that the strongest Gods will split the territories in order to maintain peace and cooperation.”

“Just me?”

“To start. However, it is likely that other powerful individuals will be offered something similar. You’re special. You can bring the rest of your world if you so choose.” Suiteonemiades gestured. A glowing scroll materialized in his palm. “It’s a pretty standard contract. The Gods use it when bringing new worlds and peoples into the fold. I’ve studied some of your world’s history and you should be familiar. Citizenship through service. Your people tended to focus on the military aspect. We do not. Any category of service can be valuable. Knowledge is what truly matters in the end.” The scroll floated across the short distance between them.

Cal let it hang.

“Oh, I almost forgot. There is one slight difference to this offer. Normally, the masses wouldn’t receive full citizenship. They would be granted the pathway and through meritorious service, one day prove worthy of it. This time, this once. Citizenship will be gifted to every person that follows you. A boon that’s as rare as the single grain of gold upon an endless beach. Citizenship grants the right to emigrate to any of our unaligned worlds. Some Gods also allow it to their worlds, while others require more stringent oaths. We will provide a full codex of those worlds so that our newest citizens can make an informed decision. Think of how many of your people will be saved the nightmarish suffering of the coming days.”

“We’re doing okay so far.”

“It’s only going to get worse. Do you know how many cities we’ve lost since the Terminus Decree? 117 across a multitude of worlds. Billions of our faithful dead. More dispersed, driven to the wilderness before they could be helped to be prey for monsters and the worst the invaders had to offer. As for the invaders? They come from peoples and worlds we never knew existed. I would say you couldn’t imagine the horror, but you and yours, more than anyone else, can. Alien gods from the void. Nightmare concepts. Unknowable entities. Things so old and forgotten that necessitated even the most ancient of the Gods to delve their divine archives to rediscover the secrets to defeating them. That fog entity that destroyed your birth city? A child. A newborn compared to the one that subsumed half the world of Suiteonem, Twenty-Third of It’s Name before we slew it. You claimed to the Eidolon of Sunor that you’d stop our enemies from using your world to strike at ours. You’ve succeeded at times, but you’ve also failed. Enemy pantheons old and new have drawn blood.”

“You’ve drawn your fair share of blood. I can point out the specific events when eidolons or a contingent of your other troops made it through the spires before we could stop them.”

“Such is conflict.”

“Only warmongers say that it’s unavoidable. You decry violence with your mouths, yet blood stains your clothing and drips from your blades. I take you up on your offer and my world becomes a much worse warzone than it already is. An infinite number of your enemies will pour everything they have into the spires to deny your pantheon sole control.”

“That is unavoidable, as you said. Our offer will allow your people escape to safer worlds. Think of your woman and son. They will not be required to remain. Only you.”

“Just me?”

“Other offers will be made. But, they won’t take precedence over this one and only,” Suiteonemiades gestured at the floating scroll. “The shortest path to a life in a world superior to this one in every way if they follow your lead. Depending on the God and the world they will know more comfort and freedom than the heights of your many civilizations. Naturally, you will be allowed to send representatives to verify the truth of my words. This is no low trick luring the desperate with promises of a better life only to slap the chains of slavery around their limbs upon arrival. The codex contains that information if you wish to avoid such worlds and Gods. I’ll even share my recommendations. For example, don’t immigrate to a Suiteonem world unless you want violence. My father,” his face twisted, “is not a God for the weak, unless they desire strength. For those that exist to fight there will be constant opportunity.”

“How long is the offer open?”

“Indefinitely, however I won’t wait and do nothing. I have my Quests and labors. And I do owe the citizenry my best effort to protect them. I believe you understand that I must do everything in my power to secure their right to safety. It’s no different from what you do.”

“Just taking the scroll doesn’t constitute acceptance.”

“Of course not,” Suiteonemiades frowned. “I wouldn’t resort to base trickery. An oath achieved through such is as strong as wet paper.”

Cal plucked the scroll and placed it in a bag of holding.

Even if he had no intention of accepting it. Reading it, studying it could be useful. Like the demigod had said, knowledge was valuable.

Perhaps, they’d be able to discover ways to circumvent the pantheon’s binding contracts or render them ineffective.

“I have a question.”

“Ask.”

“Do you know anything about these?” he pulled out a thumb-sized holographic projector.

Arcane symbols in ritual circles across the Earth.

Multiple locations starting with Tokyo appeared one by one until the space between them was filled with still images.

“Different groups with hardly any connections between them. All over the world. The same sacrificial circles. Was it you? If not, do you know anything about these?”

The demigod’s face was a mask of perfect neutrality.

There were no micro expressions to interpret.

An attempt to scan the demigod’s thoughts slid off the strange helmet again.

“No.”

Neither lie, nor truth.

His powers couldn’t tell the difference.

It was just like the days before the spires had appeared.

He considered ripping the helmet off, but he didn’t now how strong a demigod was.

A good chunk of Manhattan had been turned into a glassed crater by his fight with Zalthyss.

There were thousands of people in the general vicinity.

A single clash with the demigod might spell doom for them.

“One hundred years, huh? I might be swayed if you share knowledge. Say, everything you have on every threat to my world.”

“You have the order of it wrong. You’ll get that after you agree.”

“Do you have anything else to say?”

“Oh, I have many things that I’d like to try to sway you from hubris and ruin. But, an initial meeting isn’t the place.”

“Then we’re done here.”

“We are. Think wisely. Consult with others. After all, it isn’t fair for one individual to decide the fate of millions. They have voices and those must be heard. You’re powerful, but you aren’t a God until you achieve apotheosis and shed your physical form. And not even a God can stand alone against the multiverse. Oh, and don’t take too long. Each day you sit in your tent is one in which your people die.”

Cal rocketed into the sky.

The sonic boom washed over Suiteonemiades like a gentle breeze.