Oblivion's Blade
Author: M.H. Johnson
Date: 2018-05-02 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Science Fiction; Fiction; Role Playing Games
Description: Val had returned from his latest tour of duty scarred in body and soul. Barely able to walk and drugged to the gills for pain, he thought his killing days were finally behind him. He couldn't have been more wrong. Endless Online, a hyper futuristic game where players could truly live another life. Val loved the idea of starting over in virtual reality. But when someone he cares about turns up missing after chasing that same dream, Val quickly learns that Endless is no simple game. And if Val can't figure out the dark secrets behind this realm of wizards, warriors, and intergalactic conquest, t

Endless Online

Oblivion’s Blade

M H Johnson

Copyright © 2018 by M H Johnson

Cover art by Andrey Vasilchenko

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and events are the work of the author’s imagination and all locations are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Thank You

Additional Links

1

"Val, watch your six, he's spawning behind you!”

Val nodded, tapping his keyboard at a mad pace, quickly refreshing his rapid buffs, his Hammer Guardian raising its shield just as the lich spawning behind him released its Doomclaw attack.

The screen flashed a rainbow of colors as he took massive damage to stamina and health, Val tapping his primal potion and resisting the impulse to launch forth with a Hammer Strike. It was team play, not solo, and he had two healers buffing his stats and wards as fast as they could tap their boards. Their dps specialist was blasting the massive boss trapped with them in the depths of the crypt with fire magics for all she was worth.

Val frowned even as the dark corridors flashed with crimson magics. The Lich Guardian's health bar was full. Julia wasn't making a dent.

"Oh shit, Val, it's powering up! I'm casting my primal now."

"Don't waste it, wait for an opening," Val said, having finally gotten the measure of their foe, this, the fourth time they had made it so far into the newest expansion of Elerium, rumored to hold utterly unique gold star artifacts only available for this, the first week before being locked out of general circulation for at least a season. And they would be saleable, allowing for an incredible in-game windfall. But only if they could get past this, what they hoped but couldn't be certain was the final boss before the inner sanctum.

Eerie chanting resonated through Val's bedroom as his itchy finger waited for the perfect moment, his legs' constant throb more like a muted burn than a raging inferno of pain, so focused he was on the battle.

There! As the lich whispered the final two syllables of his incantation, Val charged, having powered up his Greater Disruption, knowing they had only one chance to break past the lich's defenses before it completely obliterated them. Val's teeth flashed in a rictus of a grin as the creature howled, stumbling back, hearing his friend's roars of approval.

"Now, Julia! Defenses are halved, Primal that bitch! Salvin, wait for the door! If it goes green."

"Got it." A quiet voice, Salvin, their secret weapon, was tied to their TS chatgroup but not officially part of their four-man squad at all. He was their secret fifth, rogue class, and would be the one to go through the door, even if the lich they faced wiped them all off the grid. Which it had numerous times already. According to the chat groups Val had networked in, every adventuring group had met the same fate since the expansion was released, just days ago.

Hence the need to think outside the box, recruiting a solo rogue just to get past that door, scout ahead and report back, and if they were truly at the final boss, grab all the spoils he could and port out.

It was a risk. Salvin wasn't part of their group, so as far as the game was concerned, any spoils he found would be his. If he wanted to, he could pocket it all, and there wouldn't be a thing Val or his group could do.

Ultimately, it all came down to trust. Val knew of a couple games that seemed to foster ruthless exploitation, celebrating a free-for-all and all but void of cooperation, but Val knew enough of game theory to know how powerful true alliances could be against a sea of opponents too mistrustful to work together. It was, Val thought, worth the risk. Because without Salvin, Val feared they wouldn't make it into the chamber at all.

Not that they wouldn't do their damnedest, of course.

"Yes, finally got that bastard in the yellow!" Julia, perhaps their youngest player, chirped cheerfully.

Val grinned. "Nice one," he said, as the lich twisted back in a very good imitation of agonized fury, before lurching forward abruptly.

Val hissed, heart suddenly hammering. He had never seen any boss move like that, circling Val and gazing at the Hammer Guardian as if he would cut out Val's heart the second he had a chance.

Val forced his racing heart to ease, glaring at the computer, wondering how the hell those programmers had managed to get an NPC moving like an enemy combatant actually closing in for the kill. "John, Finn, Primal buff and heal, 3...2...1... now!"

Not even a grunt, his friend's buffing and healing magics pouring in perfect harmony, actually managing to buff each other's spells as they poured upon Val's tank, spell symmetry skills activating for added buffs, and just at the lull in the casting, giving them a much needed boost in warding their foe.

"Bloody fuck!" Finn's voice, suddenly panicked, as Val's hit points melted faster than butter in a skillet. "There's no way!"

"Damn it!" Val mashed his backup primal power, a racial trait he had specifically channeled to compliment his tank, earning himself a Greater Ram that interrupted the Lich's spell, just barely in time.

"Okay, okay, fuck. I'm putting my artifact in play," John whispered, and suddenly Val was at full hit points once more, the lich screeching something that almost sounded like dark chanting through Val's speakers before lurching back, its own attack disrupted. Val quickly readied his guard once more, relieved beyond words to see his hit points at full, though his gut twisted at his friend's words. To put an artifact in play temporarily doubled its effectiveness, but it was a desperate move, because if one wiped while using it, the artifact was gone for good.

"Fuck, John." It was all Val could say as John gave a nervous laugh.

"Worthy sacrifice if this works, glory to our guild."

But Val knew his focus dare not waver, or his friend's gesture was meaningless. "Now, Julia!"

A soft, feminine grunt through his headset, even as Julia unleashed her Disciple Primal, John and Finn both hooting in approval. Releasing two Primals was not an easy skill to master, requiring a specific quest chain, adept manual dexterity, and Elite rank. Add to that that logging off within twenty minutes of casting it put a two-hour ban on using that character.

Val grimaced. It looked like they were all playing for keeps today.

"Hell with it," he said, calling out a Thunderstrike, his second linked primal, launching forth with his axe and temporarily converting himself to pure DPS in the two-second window he had.

The maneuver was risky as hell. If the lich popped him, he was toast, but Val had sacrificed his first class to allow for the daily combination maneuver, and his ability to time his attacks, to strike between the beats, when and where his foes were least prepared, was no less profound in game than it was in real life.

"Woohoo! Nice one, Samurai!" Julia cheered as their hideous nemesis was sent stumbling back, his silver health bar flashing yellow, then red as it burst into flames and crackling black lightning simultaneously.

"Nice one!" John cheered, voice suddenly relieved, and Val could sense how much his impulsive sacrifice was weighing on his friend.

His friends could cheer. Val was focused only on twisting and dodging the Lich's lightning counterattack, crackling energies flying down the corridor, missing him completely as old build acrobatics allowed him to dodge, but tearing through both healers and Julia.

"What the hell!" Finn cursed as Val, heart in throat, flipped back to Guardian mode just in time to meet the lich's onslaught, health already melting like butter. "It shouldn't be able to counter after two primals!"

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" John cried, panicked again as he desperately tried to cast his greater healing spell, even as Julia frantically warded up, most of her health gone with that simple boss counter-spell.

"Tag team it!" Val cried, knowing they were in serious trouble. All their big guns fired, and their foe was still at half health, and had only just begun. "3...2...1... now, Julia!" He shield slammed his foe, praying for any kind of a stagger, knowing their only chance was a synergized dps bonus.

The lich didn't jostle an inch. Thank goodness that Julia at least got the dps multiple. The lich's health had slid further, at 40 percent.

"You're buffed, Val!" John whispered, and Val had never seen his wards so strong, happy to see that John was still benefiting from putting his artifact in play.

The screen flashed in a rainbow of black lightning, Val reflexively popping two expensive customized potions even as he shield-bashed in the split second between boss spell pulses. He cursed the brilliant pyrotechnics flashing across the screen that made it so damned hard to judge even that pause and scratch the smallest bonuses, no doubt as the programmer had intended.

"Oh fuck, we lost Julia!" Finn, their other healer said.

It was like the gong of doom. Finn's voice echoed long after he was silent, John not saying a word.

"Julia?" Val kept his voice calm, even as he mashed his keyboard madly, under heavy enemy fire, as he thought of it, slipping into old roles he knew all too well.

"I'm sorry, Val."

"Don't be. You gave it your all. Thank you."

Val flinched, almost certain Julia was holding back tears. "I fucked up. I... I should have waited the way you showed me, not released until he paused. I lowered my arcane block to cast, and I insta-fried."

"Shut up, Julia, no time!" John cried. Panicked voice making it clear he knew exactly what was at stake, he and Finn doing all they could to keep Val alive as he dodged, weaved between attacks, strove to stagger and bash the boss lich and make its life as much a misery as possible.

Endless seconds of flashing lights, and Finn whistled.

"Damn, Val, you're on fire tonight."

And he was. Val grimaced, hands twitching as fast as thought as he dodged and spun about on the screen, truly slipping into the zone, feeling almost as if he was dancing with their foe, its every move already accounted for as Val dodged, spun and countered, desperate to bring their foe down.

But it was no use.

It did not matter that Val was on fire. Their damage dealer was dead. They could barely scratch their foe.

Worse, its health meter began to crawl back up.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" John cursed.

"God damn it, I'm calling it." Finn said, his despair carrying through loud and clear.

"Keep icy, Finn," Val said, voice cold and calm under terrible pressure. "Salvin? Are you ready?"

"I am."

Two words. Two words again to give them hope, meaning, a point to sore fingers and hours of frustration.

And like a miracle, the guarded gate behind the lich that Val had been slowly drawing close to him, leading halfway down the corridor as they had planned, finally went green.

"Now!"

"I know."

And Salvin was through.

The lich went into a frenzy then, yet another thing that never made it to the boards, probably because no one had used split groups to pass the main boss before, and for all Val's desperate weaving and button grinding, he was wiped from the game in a flash of white before digital blood and a skull and crossbones flowed over the screen.

"You have died. With great risk comes great triumph, and peril. For dying while using elite ranked abilities, your account is locked for two hours."

"Bloody hell." Val grimaced, rubbing his temple, the awful burning pain that comprised so much of his life suddenly tearing through him harder than the lich's spell.

"John? Finn?"

"Bloody fuck, man, I lost my artifact. I lost my god damned artifact! Do you know how many hours I put into farming that robe of splendor? My whole build is fucked! Thanks a lot, Val, thanks a whole hell of a bloody lot!"

Val frowned, taking a deep breath, but John had already cut his connection.

"Finn? Julia, are you still there?"

"Yeah, man. Don't sweat John. we just got caught up in the moment," Finn said. "Gambling his artifact on a power double was pretty stupid, but damn if I wouldn't have done the same thing. Julia might still be with us and we would have made game history!"

Val smiled at that. Sometimes idiocy or brilliance had less to do with the action itself than it did the results that followed, and how history chose to remember it. He looked down at his legs, eyes suddenly watering, realizing it had been over six hours since he had taken anything for pain.

"Val? Don't sweat it. You were on fire there, man. Honestly, had this been any other boss? We'd be rolling in the gold right about now."

"It was a good fight." Val smiled to hear Julia's voice. Still trembling, but at least she was with them.

"Thanks for sticking around, Julia, it was good. And hey, we all learned something."

"Yeah, I learned that this Delve is rigged, and never to PvP against you," Julia quipped. "I haven't even seen GameTube videos of players that fast, and we still wiped."

Val shrugged. "All hopes is not lost. Salvin? We could use some good news if you have any for us."

A pregnant pause. Val frowned, glaring at his legs, ignoring his racing pulse, a quick glance showing that Salvin was still logged in their chat group. He felt a sudden weight lift from his chest. Had Salvin logged out already, their worst fears would have been realized.

What happened was almost worse.

"I'm in," he said, to their breathless pause. Then, finally, "You were right, Val, that was the final boss. And the hoard? Let's just say, a Jack's ransom."

"Sweet!" Finn hooted. "Sorry I doubted you for even a second!"

Julia cheered as well, but Val frowned. "A Jack's ransom." A flash of recollection, then, Val racing off on hyper fast fighters in a desperate bid to take out a massive dreadnought class battleship in a game that had never made it past beta. Back when he was fresh, innocent, and actually looked at the future with something besides weary bitterness and grim resolve. A time when he had been unabashedly happy.

One thing about that game was, just as alliances were valued, held all the more precious for their rarity, nothing was admired quite so much as a brilliant heist. Solar Crowns, the game had been called, so brilliant in scope and content that had the owners not been indicted for money laundering, it might just be the biggest game out there today.

Val had enjoyed making epic scores of his own on more than one occasion while playing. In fact, if he were to be completely honest, he had enjoyed being a backstabbing ass. Until he himself was forged in the crucible of battle and learned what loyalty and teamwork really meant.

"What color is the hilt?" Val asked, forcing himself to grin and bear it, thinking back upon how conveniently Salvin had been floating about, joining their guild just two weeks back, a highly skilled rogue, perhaps the most difficult class to train up, and some would argue the least rewarding, save for their assistance in high level runs, so always valued when they hit Elite ranks. So of course when he was running green level dungeons with never a complaint against him, it caught Val's eye. And when Val made it clear he was looking for a thief for an unorthodox play... Salvin was just where he needed to be.

Salvin chuckled softly. "So you get it, do you? Then you know how this goes. My hilt is as black as the blade I've just stuck in your back. Thanks for the hall, Val. For someone who played Solar Crowns once upon a time, you should have seen this coming from miles away."

"What? What the hell just happened?" Finn cursed. "Salvin? You better not double cross us, we bled for that loot! God damn it all to hell, what just happened?" But Salvin had already logged off.

Val had no words, just clenching his fists tightly, shaking his head, doing his best to see it all as a game. Just a game as his legs burned like fire, stealing a glance at his second computer using Tails and TOR and a ghost network account, stealing bandwidth they'd never miss from a prestigious group home just a block away with a burn cord.

He flashed a bleak smile as Salvin, aka Ramos Aldieren's California address popped up, his ping having been traced five minutes into the game. Salvin had been right. Val should have seen this coming. And he had. And he had taken a risk, hoping for the best, using skills he wouldn't let get rusty, no matter how much pain he was in.

"Val? I don't understand. What does this mean?" Julia's soft, plaintive voice.

Val sighed. "It means, Julia, that Salvin double-crossed us."

"Oh shit no! That's so messed up! We worked hard for that, to get that far, and Salvin didn't do anything! Why would he do that? Why would he pretend to be our friend, just to stab us in the back? Doesn't he feel the least shred of shame?"

Val shrugged. "Probably not."

"Yeah, I'll bet he's laughing his ass off, right now!" Finn snarled. "What I'd like to do to that bastard..."

"Finn."

"Break every bone is his goddamned body!"

"Finn."

"What?"

"Let it go."

A brooding pause. "Damn it, Val, why did you have to trust that shithead?"

Val shrugged, though no one could see it. "It was the only way, Finn. I took a calculated risk. Of course it was possible he was bait. It's equally possible that he could have been a straight-up kid who, if he had played his cards right, would have earned the right to profit and adventure besides the best damn crew I've ever played with. He decided digital currency is worth more than real life honor, and we'll never play with him again."

A thoughtful pause. "I still feel like crap," Julia said. "If I hadn't popped... if we had gotten in, it might have been a pickup race, but we would have gotten most of the pot!"

Val smiled. "Don't worry about it, Julia. No guarantee we weren't going to pop within seconds anyway. That lich was throwing off so much area effect dps just from bounceback off his primary attacks against me that it would probably have fried you, no matter what we did to counter."

"What a fucked up game," Finn cursed.

Val smiled and shrugged. "That it is, as much as I love it. On that note, I'm going to call it. Same time tomorrow?"

"Sorry, Val, extra school for me."

Val blinked. "You're in trouble with classes, Julia? I thought you were straight A?"

A rueful tinkle filled his headset. "Hardly, Val. Don't you remember? Mother is determined to get me into medical school, and so she signed me up for evening bio courses at the local community college, as if my regular course load wasn't enough."

Val winced. Julia had told him that just the other day when she had been grinding with him, both of them determined to master their Primal attack weaves. Honestly, he had enjoyed their conversation far more than the grinding. "Actually, that's pretty smart. Medical school or no, you're that much closer to a degree."

"Pretty much, and that way I can see if I actually like anything they teach, or if the home front's going to become a battleground."

Val smiled. "Hopefully not."

"I've got some real-life prep work to do myself, Val," Finn said. "I'll e-mail you when I next have some free time."

"Sounds good, Finn," Val said as his friend logged off.

"Val?" Julia, still logged on, her voice strangely tentative.

"Yes, Julia, what's up?"

"Did you ever serve?"

Val blinked at that, the silence suddenly stretching. "What makes you ask?" he finally said.

"Well, it's just your tone of voice, sometimes. Like you're giving orders. And the way you get so calm and focused when things are really going crazy. It kind of reminds me of my dad."

Val chuckled softly. "I guess I do get kind of intense, sometimes. Sorry if that throws you off."

"No. Actually, it's kind of neat. You remind me of him, actually. Are you active military?"

Val forced a smile in his voice, knowing it was time to change tracks. "Actually just a few years back, I was in high school myself. Maybe I've been playing too many military games. If I took my father's advice, I'd get out of my room and get out more. Make something of myself."

"Does he really say that? You don't come off as a layabout to me. Hmm... if I were to bet, I'd guess you're either in college, the military, or, I don't know, climbing up the corporate ladder?"

Val grinned. "Nope, sorry to disappoint you, Julia, but right now I'm just a guy who lives at home and spends too much time online."

"Oh." A thoughtful pause. "Have you ever thought of going to college? I can tell you're smart. I'll bet you'd do really well."

Val closed his eyes, allowing the screams and terror to flow through him, taking deep breaths, imagining the horrid pain fading to a brilliant white light, the sun glimmering in the clouds. And there he was, soaring in the majestic heavens, finally at peace, just embracing the moment. "I'd be going into my senior year, if I were at college," he finally said.

"Oh really?" Julia said brightly. "That's not too old, then. I'm going to college next year myself. You're still young, Val, you should really go."

Val laughed. "Maybe I should, Julia. You take care of yourself, okay? And good luck with the college courses."

"Thanks, Val, I get the feeling I'll need all the luck I can get." She paused then, and Val's brows furrowed as his eyes glanced at the clock, knowing his father would be coming soon. "Val?"

"Yes, Julia, what's up?"

"Have you ever heard of the game Endless?"

Val blinked and frowned, hands tightly gripping the arms of his specially designed chair. "Endless? I don't think I have."

"That's because it's still in beta testing. But from what I hear, it's totally next gen."

"Really."

"I know, that's what I said. But then I saw images of some of the graphics, and, my god, Val, you've heard about the VFX singularity, right?"

Val nodded. "The point at which digital games can't be distinguished from reality? Which begs the question, what is reality? And if we ever achieve it, are we really just tapping into the fundamental nature of everything?"

"Pretty much," Julia enthused. "Anyway, the still shots looked convincing enough, but when my friend and I got access to their locked site and checked out the livestream, all I can say is... wow. Those guys at ESI are not kidding! I hate to say it, but as much as I love playing Elerium with you, this game blows that out of the water."

Val chuckled. "And that's how it will always be. No matter how much you love a game, there will always be something new coming along that carries you away like your old game could only during those first beautiful weeks of play."

"Not like this," Julia declared. "Honestly, Val, this game Endless? I don't think it gets any better. I don't think it can." Julia paused, as if collecting herself. "I'm sorry, I'm going on a rant about a competing game, and it's not even out on the market. God, it might be years away, but seriously, Val, watching these characters act and move, it felt like I wasn't just watching a movie, but was taking a part in a real-life event! It really was incredible."

Val whistled. "All right, color me intrigued. If this game is even half that good, it sounds like something we could lose ourselves in for years, if we wanted."

"Right." Julia laughed. "Not that I will even want to touch that game if I actually get accepted to my mother's dream college and walk the path of becoming a doctor, but evening classes aside, this might just be my last summer to just go crazy and game my heart out before I have to be serious Julia for the rest of my life."

Val laughed. "You just might find being serious and goal driven leaves you more fulfilled than the games we love ever could. All jokes aside, I think your mother has some great plans for you, assuming medicine turns out to be your passion as well."

"I hope so," she enthused. "Honestly, I'd love it if I could make it. I hope I have the same passion for medicine as my mother, but I am totally filling out the application to intern at Endless. If I could spend this summer beta testing for the future game of the century, I'll take it in a heartbeat! If I can actually get paid? All the better."

"You do that," Val enthused, chatting for some moments longer before saying goodnight and beginning the arduous process of getting ready for bed, knowing he would need to take his medicine if he wanted to get any sleep at all, and hating the fact that he needed it so much. Yet once he was lying down, with only fire and darkness to keep him company, he knew he would be grateful for the pills he had taken. Sleep couldn't come fast enough.

But before he did that, he pivoted to his second computer with a painful grimace as he jostled his legs, quickly jotting notes in a spiral notebook which, for all its flaws, was invaluable in its inability to be hacked or compromised ever, then wiped the screen clean.

He looked at his notes and shook his head.

He would do nothing, of course. Salvin, aka Ramos Aldieren, was a 22-year-old California resident who had never finished college and was currently stuck in returns somewhere. He wasn't an enemy combatant.

He didn't need to die.

Val grimaced and shook away the thought, a quick eyeball of his large semi-hemispheric computer table with its customized keyboards, monitors and mic showed nothing untoward, his notebook full of jottings hiding so much in disorganized, scribbled, plain sight.

With a satisfied nod he eased himself into bed at last, dropping into deepest slumber that quickly transformed into the most visceral of dreams. Blinking his eyes open to find himself awake and alert, strolling the Greenwood mall just a mile away, following behind a pair of animated voices, chatting about clothes, music, boys, and the colleges of their dreams. Val blinked, focusing in on the pair after recognizing Julia's voice, stunned to see her gazing back at him with a smile.

"Don't worry, Val, I'll still pass finals with flying colors."

And Val had smiled back, walking free and easy without pain, happy to help carry the girl's bags as the three of them started gossiping about their teachers and dreams for the future, and in that moment Val was not a scarred former soldier, but rather an enthusiastic high school student with his entire future before him and a beautiful friend to share it with.

Julia waved them forward, picking up her pace. "Come on, Val, I want to show you the coolest store! I know you'll love it. Their games are cutting edge!"

Val shrugged and smiled and the three of them picked up their pace, stopping only for gourmet ice cream which Val and Julia both loved, their friend passing as she was lactose intolerant, Val's eyes catching one of 3-D posters outside the mall theater they passed. Val grinned at the strange looking picture, showing a man stepping between worlds, a crackling sword of light and darkness in hand, leaving the mundane realm for some place full of magic and wonder. It looked so much like the classic science-fantasy films Val loved. Then he saw the face of the lead actor, now gazing back at him.

"Be careful, Val."

He swallowed, stopping cold, eyes locked upon pools of blackness. The face was his own.

He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the poster once more. No strange movements, it was no more life-like than any other movie display, but the words still rung through his head.

"Val, here it is, the shop I was telling you about!"

Val frowned, shaking away odd reverie, weaving past anxious shoppers as he raced to Julia's side, a cold tingle of dread suddenly racing down his spine.

He gazed at an animated Julia, even as her friend gave a tired sigh. "You know I'm not a gamer, Julia," the other girl said, her friend trying to coax her to go inside, just to check out the displays.

Shrugging, they entered together, auburn curls and twinkling green eyes bidding Val to follow. "Come on, Val, you'll want to..." and her words were abruptly cut off as she entered a wall of bubbling blackness that had been a store, just moments ago.

A wall of roiling darkness that stretched across the face of the store, the walkway beside it, now stretching as far as the eye could see.

Strangely, almost everyone seemed oblivious to it, for all that it seemed to swallow up anyone to pass through it, spitting out no one in turn.

Val shuddered, stumbling away from the hideous wall of inky darkness.

Then it began, ever so slowly, to creep forward.

"I told you, Val," whispered the strange papery voice of the movie poster, now right behind him.

"I told you to be careful. Now I'm going to have to kill you."

The figure from the movie poster tore itself free, slipping to the ground before sinking its teeth into a suddenly shrieking Val's neck.

Val awoke, throat raw with screams, the nightmare washing through him so fast that only terror remained. Nameless, awful dread, with only the septic scent of a battlefield surgery ward lingering upon his nose. He slammed aside all the pill bottles waiting for him that morning. This, more than anything else, was why he hated taking the drugs.

They always tormented him with the most awful dreams.

The next morning Val spent as he did near every morning since coming back home, losing himself in the wonders of Elerium, enjoying the simple experience of exploring an ever-expanding world, turning in quests for fame and glory, even helping out the occasional noob trapped in one of the easier dungeons that were perfect for newer players learning group mechanics but that only an idiot would try to solo, unless they were like Val, of course, and could actually pull it off. He was quite happy to spend the entire day in Elerium if he could get away with it. Because every hour he didn't need to take his medications, every hour he was not enslaved to his own pain was an hour hard-won, to his mind.

His father's knock suddenly reverberated through his room.

"Just a sec," Vall said, before forcing himself to his feet with a grimace, opening the door to his bedroom, gazing up into concerned hazel eyes of his father. With strong chiseled features and a thick shock of dark hair belonging to a man decades younger, his powerful physique was that of an athlete who had entered more than one triathlon, and trained for them still. Reminiscent of the person Val saw every day in his mirror. An older, undamaged version of himself.

"How are you feeling, Val?"

"Like my legs are on fire, dad."

His father nodded. "I know you haven't been taking your pain medications unless you're dying for sleep. I'm concerned."

"I'm worthless on those meds. I can barely think. I'm just floating in clouds all day. I won't get anywhere in life, high as a kite all the time."

His father sighed. "You've done enough. At ease, son."

Val squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples. "Sorry, dad. The thought of not being sharp, not being in the moment, being just another drugged out wash-up, that cuts almost as deeply as the pain." He chuckled softly. "If I didn't know the medicine was just a couple feet away, I'd be screaming. I know it. But it's like an endurance race. I can stop at any time. So why not push for another few minutes, another hour? And if playing Elerium lets me do that, I'm happy to lose myself in running dungeons."

"I do understand, Val. But we're heading out, and I know how bad the pain gets for you when you're not distracting yourself. Take the Neurontin, at least. It's not an opioid, and it will help calm the nerves. If doctor Haussman is right, it will also help prevent the pain from becoming hardwired into your brain."

Val gazed reluctantly at the hated pill bottles. "Alright, dad. Since we're heading out, I'll take the damn pills. So I can go a few hours without sobbing in public."

His father nodded in approval, and Val knew he would bring the quick relief pain medicine, just in case Val needed it.

Val grimaced, taking his prescribed drugs, hating how they made him feel so foggy and helpless, but unable to deny the exquisite relief they brought.

And still, for all that, he forced himself to toddle on shaky legs so badly scarred that the skin looked like pockmarked parchment, as much ugly ragged scar tissue as skin and muscle. Not even the drugs were able to numb that agony as he made himself hobble to the dining room, conceding to the walker but refusing to use a wheelchair in the house, his father a calm step behind, allowing Val to do it himself, there to catch him if he stumbled and fell.

When he made it down the tastefully decorated hall into the grand kitchen, high arched ceilings as graceful as Val remembered his mother to have been, he breathed a sigh of relief, taking a few bites of the buttery crepes waiting for him along with with a cold glass of milk to wash it down.

His father's gaze was solemn. "It's good to see you back home." So much said with those words.

Val smiled. "I know how busy your business keeps you. I'm sorry to be cutting into your time so much."

A frown and shake of the head. "Not at all. You are my son. Smith has things well in hand, and the least I can do is make myself available to you on the weekends. Frankly, Val, I'm just grateful you accepted my invitation to move back in. This house is far too big for me to live in alone."

Val lowered his head, nodding slightly as memories of their entire family washed over him. Happy, healthy, together, a sweet fantasy to eat to, closing his eyes and imagining his sister's laughter, his brother's gentle teasing, and their mother's warm smile. Then he ate his crepes and thought of nothing at all.

2

"Good hit, Alex, now follow through!"

Val grinned, enjoying himself more than he had thought he would after making the drive to the local HEMA club on the invite of Alex, a close friend from his high school days. Their mutual interests had progressed from MMORPG games to larping to sparring with well-balanced replicas of actual swords, Val not the only one to find mastering those old arts absolutely fascinating.

Together they and a few other friends had studied the basics not only of longsword, rapier, sword and buckler and English saber, but of ancient wrestling and dagger fighting as well. Skills that helped him excel at varsity wrestling, the only school sport he had bothered with in the four years he had attended.

Skills he would one day put to deadly use.

He flinched and shook his head, compartmentalizing ugly memories that had no place in the glorious gymnasium he presently found himself in, finely polished hardwood floors still smelling of beeswax, half the area covered in mats for freeform sparring or grappling, focusing intently as his friend and his sparring partner circled one another, teasing each other with probing thrusts and strikes.

Alex's opponent seized the initiative, lashing out of a fast, powerful Oberhau Val was sure would connect, even as Alex coolly step-slid to the side even as his blade whipped around in a powerful diagonal blow, aiming not for his foe's neck, but for the blade itself, Alex forcing it off line before following up with a jarring thrust his surprised opponent was unable to counter, the crack audible even from where Val was sitting. Alex's opponent collapsed to the ground with a wheeze after the perfectly timed blow.

Of course Alex was crouched right there beside his coughing opponent, checking up on him and giving pointers before helping his student up and sending him off with a clap on his back before making his own way to a smiling Val.

"So what do you think, Val? Do I still got the knack or what?" Alex took off his sparring helmet, brown curls and a brilliant smile showcasing perhaps the handsomest face among his friends, stopping only to give Val's father a firm handshake before reaching over to clap Val's shoulder, saying not a word about the wheelchair his friend had arrived in, and good enough not to flinch at Val's scarred face, treating him the same as he always had.

Val laughed. "I see you can finally spar properly."

Alex grinned. "That's right. It's a wicked power blow if you seize the Vor and want to tear right through them. But if you act in the nach, and strike their blade with your forte just as they are lashing out for you, their blade is off line and it's a quick twist and lunge and you've run them through."

Val nodded. "A two-beat version of the Zornhau. I almost forgot how good you are with a blade, Alex. I'm glad I got to see you give your newest opponent a run for his money."

"Yup, I'm teaching part-time. Helps pay the bills, you know?"

"And you're doing what you love."

"Exactly."

Val shared a pained smile, thinking back to a time when he could move free and easy about the gym just as Alex did, his sparring blade held in an easy, sure grip. The exhilaration he felt, measuring his opponents' movements, flicking quick, teasing blows before springing back, happily waiting for his challengers to overcommit before sending them reeling with perfectly timed blows that seemed to slip through their guard with a dancer's grace and a serpent's speed. That's how he liked to remember it, anyway.

Val gazed down at legs even now throbbing with pain, having taken only enough medicine to take the edge off.

"Valor, how are you feeling?"

Val smiled into his friend's concerned gaze. "Not too shabby, Alex. Were I not a man of leisure now, I'd be more than happy to put you in your place with blade and buckler or longsword."

Alex chuckled good-naturedly, exchanging a glance with Val's father. "I was sort of hoping you'd say that. Hold on just a moment." He then hurried off, Val shrugging and turning to gaze at the score or so of students and masters, half of them free-sparring, the other half going over forms with a solemn-voiced instructor. Only a few gazed at Val for more than a few considering seconds before nodding their heads as if paying tribute, honoring a wounded vet come home.

Val grimaced. He was younger than most, he could tell that just by catching their gazes, helms and fencing masks aside. But their eyes. How goddamned young and naive they all looked, for all that most moved as men in their late twenties and thirties. For all they knew, Val had wiped out in a stupid ski stunt. It had only been a few years since he was training his heart out at this very club. Three short years that stretched forever, a gulf he could never hope to bridge.

But then again, who was he to complain? No one could relive their childhood once they left, and his had been sweeter than most, despite his losses. Only at the end did everything change. And he, at least, was still alive. Not all his friends could say the same, for all that he had fought damn hard to keep them all together.

He sighed then, his thoughts turning to Julia, smiling in memory of how passionate she was about life, adventuring, and her future. He knew she had dimples, a beautiful smile, and eyes that flashed and sparkled like emeralds. And he only knew that because she had sent pictures to all her friends, enjoying cosplay almost as much as she did adventuring.

If he was back in high school, he'd ask her out in a heartbeat, but he wasn't, so shook those thoughts away, happy just to have her as a friend.

"Hey Val, if you're done staring at the cute redhead, who is my student, by the way, I have something to show you."

Val grimaced, realizing he had been zoning out, grateful to see no one staring back, all too able to imagine what they'd say if some grizzly looking cripple seemed to be leering at them.

"Lighten up, I'm joking," Alex assured. "Now check this out."

Val blinked, now focusing fully upon the spadroon Alex held out with solemn reverence. Val whistled, impressed despite himself. Most smallswords that incorporated a cutting blade failed miserably at both. This blade, however, had been built to exacting standards with a backrib down most of its length. It would give the blade rigidity, and when Alex solemnly put it in Val's grip, it felt perfectly balanced, not heavy at all, yet still had a fine edge even if narrower than most cutting blades. Val was impressed by the exotic hilt, a hybrid between a three bar hilt and a clamshell, protecting against cuts and thrusts while still allowing for remarkable balance and point control.

Val gazed up at his friend. "This must have been privately commissioned."

His friend nodded. "That much I learned upon coming across the piece, though the name of the officer it was commissioned for is all but illegible. What's remarkable is that this blade has actually been used in three duels, the officer in question emerging victorious after each."

Val's eyebrows raised, appraising the blade carefully, light flashing across the polished steel. "It looks well cared for, and sharp, but there is no way this blade was used as a cutter."

"You'd be surprised, actually. It's no 1796 light cavalry saber, of course, which could easily lop your head off and hack through light armor. This blade won't slice through an enemy soldier in a thick buff coat charging at you with a bayoneted rifle, not a chance. But the back ridge and tapered point means that the blade won't flex like most spadroons, and you can run your charging opponent right through his heart. And the cutting edge, modest as it is, is perfect for flicking cuts without ever being off balance, giving you perfect control in a duel, especially if you're among gentleman wearing silken finery, dueling to first blood."

Val nodded, considering. "Against an unarmored man, a quick darting slash to wrist or neck could win you the duel, even if you didn't bite much past the skin."

"Exactly. It's all too easy to nick an artery or cripple the wrist, and a quick slash doesn't leave you open to counters the way fully committing yourself to the lunge does."

Val laughed. "Good point. Thanks for showing me the blade."

Alex smiled. "Would you like to try it out?"

Val gazed at his friend before looking down at his wheelchair. "That would be kind of hard, wouldn't it?"

Alex shrugged. "Not necessarily. So much is done from the wrist. Think of it like fencing on horseback. The 1796 is a dedicated cutter because lunges are such a poor idea fighting from horseback, save in the actual charge, and that breaks wrists as often as not, if you're not properly trained."

"For all that the 1916 was a dedicated thruster."

"Yes, but by that point, it was all strictly hit and run tactics. You didn't engage sword against sword, you just used it like a lance, basically. Now hold that thought, I've got a target for you."

Val nodded to show that he was game, reservations aside, purposely turning to gaze at his father.

His dad shrugged. "I know how much you used to love to fence. Alex said he had an idea to help you get back into your favorite hobby, even from the wheelchair."

Val smiled, knowing his father's heart was in the right place. Yet he had never missed the simple joy of effortless mobility more than he did at that moment, unable even to fake a smile as Alex came back, holding a rolled tatami mat with a paper target taped onto it. "Good for thrusting or cutting. Give it a go, Val, why not?"

Val shook his head, feeling the entire class's eyes upon him, before gamely pushing it out of mind and with slow, tentative movements that rapidly gained in assurance, he began to slash the mats, every once in awhile following up with as deep a lunge as he could, almost a bow, knowing his wheelchair was now firmly braced.

He blinked to hear applause, forcing a smile for all that he feared it was pity, finding himself feeling surprisingly energized for the modest workout, realizing he had actually enjoyed himself. And for all that it was no saber, his slices had not been completely ineffective, and his lunges had gone through without hindrance.

He turned to his friend. "Thanks, Alex, I enjoyed that."

Alex clapped his shoulder. "Come by anytime. We'll get you sparring with blunt smallswords before you know it. It will be fun."

Val promised to consider it, feeling a contentment that lasted all the way home.

"It was nice to get out of the house, wasn't it?" His father said after assisting him back to his own room, Val legs cramping furiously, added agony to the constant fire caressing his limbs. Val thought the pain a worthy trade for a chance to see his friend and handle that beautiful blade.

"It was," Val admitted. "Thanks for taking me."

His father smiled. "Least I can do for a soldier who served his country, son."

Val grimaced. He had been the farthest thing from a hero as could be. An ugly little secret, that dark necessity that got things done that no one ever talks about. No one even thinks about. Unasked for leave and miscellaneous combat pay, and sometimes they didn't even bother to hide it. Just a stack of bills and orders to have a good time for a week. Blood money to wash their sins away.

He drew a shuddering breath, hissing with pain. "Damn it, dad. You were a colonel yourself. You know what really makes these wars tick. What it's really about."

His father stared with the hard eyes of a commander, pinning Val with his gaze. Gone was the loving, almost doting father. What Val faced in that moment were the granite-hard features of a man Val was now utterly certain had once ordered soldiers just like him, doing god knows what ugly deeds for a cause one could only hope was somehow just.

Val swallowed and looked away.

"Get some rest, son. You've had a long day." And not another word from his old man, bedroom door shut quietly behind him.

Val trembled and closed his eyes to bitter tears, never having felt so weak, so bitter, as he did at that moment, and he wasn't even sure why.

3

"Okay, Finn, I've got him in my sights. He has the flag. On my mark 3…2…1… now!"

The screen flashed with Val's power attack, his Guardian Shield slamming the rogue who had stolen his army's flag while their own troops had launched a full offensive, the pair of them holding back just in case things got interesting from the rear, which they suddenly had.

"Nice, casting Rupture... okay, he's pinned. Finish him!"

Val grinned darkly, mashing his keyboard in a sequence of power blows that left his opponent in the red, Finn casting area effect slow heal which did little for the high dps of PvP but served to disrupt cloaking spells, catching their rogue right before he could flee, having used his own Primal to teleport back into the shadows even while stunned and bound.

"Yes!" Finn roared as a final shield bash and flurry finished off their foe. "That's one bastard out of the match for tonight. Good call waiting behind. We get the glory of covering our team's butts, like what happened just now, even while the rest of those idiots are zerging for chicken scraps."

Val grinned even as their team leader congratulated Val on his second channel, Finn using a private one with Val as he liked to talk shit, and tended to piss off anyone who didn't know him.

Val muted his second channel before addressing Finn. "It was a shot in the dark, but I refuse to waste my time zerging about when I could be running a dungeon. And since John hasn't come online and neither has Julia..."

"Yeah, John's furious, by the way," Finn said, and Val could sense his shit-eating grin. "Called you ten kinds of fool when I chatted him up a while back. It seems that stupid thief sold the artifacts he found for a king's ransom. Literally. He now has enough gold to buy one of the sanctuary baronies."

Val whistled and laughed away the bitter spike of jealousy in his gut. "Which are untouchable, cannot be taken over by other players, and earns him scores of NPCs stroking Salevin's ego with phrases of 'my lord' and 'master.' I have no doubt John's been steaming for days after losing his own artifact in that damned fight, which is why I didn't even bother saying hi. It would have been nice to hear from Julia, though."

It had been several days since their last chat, and he knew how excited she was about beta testing the hottest game since Elerium had first come out, just a few short years ago.

"Endless, that was the game, right?"

Val nodded, but of course his friend couldn't see that. "Yes. She seemed really excited. I wasn't going to bother checking it out until it got the Julia seal of approval."

Finn laughed at that. "She's totally hot for you, you know."

Val smirked. "She's seventeen."

"Ah. There is that. She'll be eighteen soon enough though, right? And you're what, maybe twenty?"

"Shut up, Finn."

Finn laughed. "No problem. Hey look, another fool thinks he can actually sneak past my healing fountain spell so conveniently placed on the ledge there."

"I think it's time we disabused him of that notion," Val said before doing just that, suddenly feeling better than he had in days.

As satisfied as gaming was with his friend, he and Finn having PvP'd together for as long as they had dungeoneered, what he was particularly proud of was making it six hours without needing a single bloody pill. He lied down with a sigh only partly from pain, trying Dr. Haussman's meditation exercises; slow, deep meditative breaths easing into true sleep within seconds.

He felt strangely happy, in a body bursting with energy. Everything had a certain vivid brilliance that was strangely surreal. He grimaced, realizing he must be dreaming, hoping this time he would have control and only sweet contentment would be his. Not that he could relax completely with finals coming up, but still.

Finals. He blinked, not knowing where his wandering thoughts had taken him, just happy to be enjoying a lakeside drive in a cherry red convertible, Julia grinning at him as she coasted along the drive, auburn hair thick and wavy and flowing with the breeze.

His heart was racing, as it always did when he could steel away from his studies and visit Julia, excited as hell to have placed high enough in enlistment testing that his father's friend assured he was a shoe-in for his alma mater. It was ivy league, and Val was no straight A student. He had a knack for problem-solving, however, and the critical thinking tests the school administrator had personally given him as a proxy test for success there made it clear Val wouldn't be just another gentleman C student if he actually got in. His grades though... no one would doubt that connections alone had gotten him in if he couldn't average at least a B on his finals.

Val frowned and shook his head. He had finished his finals, hadn't he? He had forgone college for reasons he adamantly refused to think about, enlisting instead with the help of another of his father's friends, and passed the physical demands of his elite military unit with flying covers. He had made a lot of fast friends, warm memories, and that was just during basic and advanced training. Then everything had changed, once they saw action together.

Val frowned and shook his head, gazing into Julia's worried eyes, knowing she hated it when he would zone off, and if he wasn't careful, he'd forget all about the test tomorrow. And calculus was no joke.

"Sorry, Julia. I don't know where my head is tonight."

Her worried expression turned to a relieved smile, eyes once more on the road, passing slowly by the grassy park where young families were picnicking on even now, near everyone enjoying the beautiful view of the crimson and gold sunset mirrored on the pristine lake, the cry of seagulls in the air. The water was fresh, of course, but he swore he could smell it, cold and clean.

"I'm glad you were able to make it. I was wondering what it would be like to go out with you for the longest time. Since we began playing, actually, and I realized your dad knew my own."

Val's eyebrows widened at that. "Wow. Really? What was his name? Maybe pops told me some stories."

Julia shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal, but it did make me curious, and when I found your profile online, well, I thought you were cute." Her voice softened, the faintest of blushes caressing her cheeks.

Val grinned. "If only. You should see my legs, they're a mess. It's an agony to walk. And my face looks like I got in a tussle with a wolverine." Even as he said this he frowned, feeling as healthy as he ever had as his mind flittered from school wrestling to fencing with his friends. He didn't have that much time for online gaming, but nothing beat feeling like he could actually be the characters in the game he loved. Elerium, released just a couple months ago.

Julia turned her deep green eyes upon him once more. "I think it makes you look strong. And I saw how cute you were in your yearbook. It's not too hard to get used to the scar if you feel something for the person underneath. Then you don't even see the marks. All you feel is the warmth in your heart. If that makes sense."

Val laughed. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?" He sighed. "It is a beautiful dream."

Julia grinned. "Admit it, if this were real, you'd be happy, right?"

Val nodded. "Deliriously so. And I'd feel guilty as hell. I'm twenty and go to sleep with legs that burn and a soul that howls with the things I've done. You? You're seventeen, a bright flickering flame of hope and possibility with your whole life ahead of you." He chuckled then. "But if I were seventeen again, filled with life's possibilities, I'd snap you up in a second, win your heart, and marry you the minute we turned eighteen."

Julia laughed out loud at that, and even sleeping, Val knew how outrageous a statement it was.

"You're sweet," Julia sighed. "And I wouldn't promise marriage, not a chance. I know what happens to most couples that go too far, too fast. But would I want to see you again? Enjoy another ride by the lake as the sun sets? You bet I would."

The car had stopped. Soulful eyes gazed into his own. Heart hammering, breath coming out in ragged gasps, feeling a sudden wave of giddy joy and terror. It was as great a rush as the first time he had pulled the trigger in earnest, with none of the horror.

Only sweetest jubilation, as his lips softly pressed against her own.

Val?

Yes, Julia. - Not saying a word. No words were necessary as they lost themselves in the tenderest of kisses.

Please. Don't do what I did. Promise me.

Heady euphoria turned to quiet dread. The sun had set. Families had long since gone home, and the park was filled with the hoots of owls.

The cackle of hyenas.

The coiling slither of snakes. Endless numbers. A flood of them. Gazing at Val and Julia with their cold, cold, soulless eyes.

What did you do? Julia, what's going on?

Her aching gaze lanced Val's heart, tears of crimson flowing down her cheeks.

Promise me you won't play.

You're sensitive. Just like me.

Val swallowed, abruptly shaking his head, having no idea what she was talking about.

(That's a lie. How often? How many times had Julia known just what Primal Power to use, perfectly synced with his own? The need to tell her every little detail fading to just a solid understanding. Like he shared with his entire group. Only when things were really crazy did he need to say it aloud, but by that time, they had already unleashed their attacks. The words were always behind the reality. Why had he never thought of that before?)

Promise me you won't play.

Then Julia began to scream, body twisting and writhing as hideous dark light began spilling from her pores. She shook, eyes rolling back, a grand mal seizure, and no matter how much Val cried out, begging for help, Julia did not get better.

Her spasms worsened, head slamming against the car seat, Val doing everything he could. Too little, too late, and as all the cackling howling creatures beyond their car twisted their gazes in hideous concert to peer into his own, Val fled that awful nightmare,

Waking up with a lurch, his father banging frantically on his bedroom door.

Val gasped, his throat raw with forgotten screams.

4

Val, help me! Please!

Val shuddered, grimly pushing away echoes of the dreams that had never stopped plaguing him since he got home. As always, it was a blur upon waking, but in his gut he knew that the accusing eyes of everyone he had ever let down in the theatre of combat could be found staring at his soul. Accusing him with their unforgiving gazes. Their laughter, their tears, the families they loved, the virtues they exemplified, how dare he be the only one to make it home? No nation builder or paradigm shaker was he. No chapters in the history books would be written in his honor, unlike friends who had their whole lives mapped out since they first enlisted, who would have accomplished so much, as opposed to being a scarred wreck in constant pain who couldn't even keep his shit together for an eight-hour shift of doing nothing more than lying on a soft mattress as opposed to shivering in the rain with the stink of rot and disease and the groans of dying men crushing his senses.

His father's solemn gaze held his own. "It will get better, Val, I promise you."

Val grimaced, shaking his head. "Dr. Borns told me more than I ever wanted to know about survivor's guilt. That even those who make it still carry the weight of those that hadn't." He sighed. "It's pure crap. I know it. Guilt over things I can't control, and I know damn well in the light of day that I did everything I could for my brothers. Everything!" He shuddered and swallowed. "I know it's crap, I even know how to use it to mindfuck an enemy. I'm not such a fool as to let it consume me, not in the light of day."

He shuddered, staring at his cereal, flakes long since turned to mush. "And still, it haunts me."

His father's hand gently clasped his shoulder. "I know."

Val trembled, squeezing back hot tears with bitter resolve. "Goddamn it, dad, I don't even remember what the hell I was dreaming!"

"You don't have to, Val. No one's blaming you for anything. Now you just have to work on taking care of you. One day at a time."

Val smirked. "Now you sound like a 'get help' commercial."

His father flashed the barest of smiles. "Do you want me to schedule an appointment with Dr. Borns? He did ask after you, wanting to know how you were handling the transition."

"To civilian life?" Val sighed, rubbing his stinging eyes. "Does it sound crazy to say that despite all that's happened, if my legs weren't fried, I'd do everything I could to go back, to be there for my unit?"

"Not at all, Val. Not at all."

Val laughed bitterly. "But here I am, a worthless cripple. I can barely fucking walk more than a few steps without my legs screaming, which is fine, since they always feel like they're on fire if I'm not drugged to the gills."

His father's concerned features hardened. "Damn it, Val, enough with the self-pity. The only one who thinks that poorly of you is yourself."

Val hissed, vision black with sudden hate. Crockery smashed, his father staring at him strangely. Val blinked and looked down at his trembling fist, at the glassware shattered all over the table and floor, a stray fragment of glass in the flesh of his palm.

Sudden silence.

Val lurched to his feet, pain ignored. "If you want me out of here, just say the word."

He forced himself to take each agonizing step without the damned walker, without his father, heading back to his room and the screams that waited inside.

"He's stunned, Val, finish him off, finish him off!"

Val smiled as Finn's excited voice washed over him, dextrous fingers flicking over the keyboard, crushing his opponent with shield bashes and thunderstrikes, saving his Primal attack until the sniper's health was...wait for it... flashing red, and he was casting port!

Three keys hit in tandem and a roar of triumph as the screen flashed with crimson and gold, his Hammer Guardian Primal attack exploding the enemy player in a spray of crimson and bone.

"Nice one! Now he's got a 'Primed' on his kill sheet he has to swallow down with a fuck-ton of chicken soup!" Finn crowed.

Val chuckled, finally feeling the horrors of the night before, and a damn awkward breakfast ease away at last. "Yeah, it was a good kill. And look at that, our battle leader just put us both up for silver medallions."

"What, that will be our fourth set?"

"Damn straight. No one I'd rather earn pins with than my buddy in the trenches."

Sudden silence, but not too awkward, Finn was good people, after all.

"Strange you should say that."

Val smirked. "I'm guessing you're still in? And not wet behind the ears."

A rueful chuckle. "Not too shabby. I'm serving stateside right now, but I've seen my share of shit."

"And a shit storm it is."

"You got that right, buddy. What division?"

Val felt his smile falter, the blossoming connection he felt with a guy who could very well be a battle buddy suddenly fading. "Shit," he said.

A strange pause. Val could almost imagine his friend's furrowing brow, wondering if Val was fucking with him. Few things were more pathetic than a poser, after all.

Then he got it.

"Water treatment specialist?"

Val grinned, suddenly feeling better. "Nothing like a fresh glass of water to wash the sand and cordite down."

Finn chuckled ruefully. "I bet."

Val sighed. "Good times."

"That they are. Army life is great, so long as you're not bored silly or terrified at the shit storm you find yourself in."

Val grinned. "Isn't that the truth." He was glad Finn didn't press further. A savvy player sat at the other side of his lighthearted, flippant demeanor. He knew Val had seen action, whatever his official title, maybe he even knew what WTS soldiers really did. They bullshitted some more, Finn sharing stories of life in an armored division, savvy enough in that day and age to say nothing of specific units or locations, using nicknames only, speaking as they both were on TS.

"Hear anything from our other healer?" Val asked as the conversation flowed back to Elerium, both of them stalking enemy spawn grounds, the main fight on the other side of the PvP map.

"Not a word," Finn sighed. "You know how high strung he is, and his wife isn't a gamer. I wouldn't be surprised if he's taking a break." A pause as they sprinted to a new area, the previous zone utterly dead. "Hear anything from Julia?"

Val frowned. "Not a peep. Not for days. Strange. Normally she's pretty connected on social sights, always sending links to colleges or conventions that catch her interest."

"That she does. Maybe it's that beta testing thing? Endless? Do you think they make players sign a non-disclosure hush-hush agreement?"

"Who knows? Your guess is as good as mine."

"All right, buddy, I'm not seeing hide nor hair of anyone. I think it's time we called it," Finn said, Val forced to agree.

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Why not? Our adventuring group might have gone to shit, but dual boxing in PvP suits our styles well."

Val grinned. "Take care, Finn, don't go driving any tanks my way. I'm betting you drive for shit."

Finn laughed. "Good thing it's a huge desert we play in, right? God knows how many tickets I'd get when my blood's pumping."

"I'll bet you're the only tanker with a suspended license."

"You'd lose that bet. Civilian traffic laws are bullshit."

Val grinned and logged off, feeling in high spirits until the pain hit as distraction left, and he remembered the mess he'd made of the kitchen.

It would be so easy to do nothing, of course. Being a temperamental asshole was par for the course he was playing, and the maid would come by eventually.

But that was bullshit. He cleaned up his own messes.

Grimacing, he forced himself to stand and didn't hold off on the medicine this time, knowing just how much it would hurt to crouch down, picking up shards of glass and pottery on his hands and knees since he couldn't use a broom for shit, and the glass might tear up the insides of his vacuum. He'd use a disposable sponge and a paper bag inside plastic, then throw the mess away.

He got ready to open the door then swallowed, girding himself for the lecture he feared, slowly opening the door to his father's raised hand, a heartbeat away from knocking.

His father blinked. "Well timed."

Val shrugged. "You're my father. And I have a mess to clean."

His father's hard features softened into the barest hint of a smile. "That's all I needed to hear, Val."

Val frowned. "You already cleaned it?"

He nodded. "You're not fifteen, throwing a tantrum over petty shit, needing to make amends. Your legs are on fire. You're my son. I chose to forgive." He sighed. "Next time though, I will take you up on cleaning your own mess. No matter how damaged your soul, reparation is redemption, and nothing beats a clean slate. But I'd still help, Val. All you need do is say the word."

Val grimaced, lowering his head. "Now I feel worse."

His father gripped his shoulder. "You're a good kid, Val, and I should let you do things at your own pace."

Val swallowed the strange lump in his throat, frowning at his father's anxiety, so carefully concealed. "Dad, what's wrong?"

His father blinked, giving a slow nod of approval. "Just like your mother."

"Dad?"

His father sighed, and suddenly Val's heart lurched.

"Fuck it all, what's wrong dad?"

A momentary flash of irritation, quickly shaken away. Val suddenly remembered that his father hated profanity amongst his men, for all that most officers paid it no head, especially in the theater of war. Not that his father had ever dressed down loyal men for their choice of words, but his gaze would make his feelings clear to even the most dimwitted soldier under his command.

Val squeezed suddenly throbbing temples, strange flights of fancy racing through his mind. "So how much did soldiers curse in your unit?"

"Not at all, if they wanted to get on my good side, Val. What brought that up?"

"Nothing, dad." He closed his eyes, suddenly certain that he really didn't want to know what was preoccupying his father.

But he was no fool. He could feel the weight of it, stopping only long enough to freshen up before making his way to the car once more, somehow knowing that was where he needed to be. He turned to his frowning father. "So where are we going?"

His father gazed thoughtfully at him for some moments, finally nodding and helping Val seat himself as comfortably as he could, a second wheelchair reserved for the car already secured in back.

"I gotta say, son, your intuition is so sharp it's almost scary," his father commented once they were off, well-manicured gardens outside stately homes passing them by as they slowly drove through their well-kept neighborhood, a couple of their neighbors sending friendly waves their way.

Val grinned at his father's words. "Hardly, dad. You popping by the bedroom just as you did was coincidence, and for all your words, you would normally have given me time to think about and clean my own mess before cleaning up after me." He grimaced then. "And I shouldn't have spent hours lost in my game before I took care of my own business. I apologize for that.

"Anyway, your gaze was intent, and it had nothing to do with our conversation this morning, so something must have come up. And you are dressed casually but professionally, slacks and a polo shirt. Comfortable but classy. Not as formally as you would for a business partner. Fine to shop in, but you wouldn't worry about coordinating with those shoes, if shopping was on your agenda. You'd wear sneakers and not think twice about it."

His father nodded.

"So my guess is something has come up with a friend, or a business associate who wanted your help with a personal matter."

Val swallowed, turning his gaze to the window, smiling at children laughing so freely in the finely cared for park complete with friendly security guard that their neighborhood sponsored. "And I have some experience with troubleshooting, and you're desperate to give me a sense of purpose. My guess? A friend asked you for a favor, and you thought it couldn't hurt for me to network and perhaps make myself useful."

His father gave a satisfied nod. "Well done, Val. I've always held that intuition is just unconscious perception and deduction. No one has time for detailed analysis when engaging the enemy, so trusting your gut and reacting in a heartbeat is vital. But for an entrepreneur, investigator, or officer, it pays to understand the insights keeping you alive, to fathom that part of your mind that can see the bigger picture." He flashed a quick smile Val's way. "That said, you made occasional leaps as a child that left your mother and I astounded. I don't suppose you know where exactly we are going?"

Val laughed at that. Of course not, he almost said, before he blinked, finally taking in the direction they were on, the late afternoon sun, the way the seagulls cried, plucking bread from tourists and locals taking their ease by the park adjoining the lake.

Lakeshore Drive.

Val clenched his fist, eyes squeezed tight as the sound of his heartbeat roared in his chest.

It was a dream. Just a goddamned dream. Like so many. And it means nothing, no more than any other. And I hardly remember it in any case. Only a cherry red convertible, and forest green eyes that hid so many secrets along with a smile that could sear my soul. If I were just a few years younger, if I could wake up to that almost-life... hold her hand, share all my dreams and secrets.

Screaming in my arms, horror leaching into her soul.

"Val?" His father's voice, heavy with sudden concern. They had stopped. At the goddamned park. Just like he had with Julia, sharing the sweetest kiss he ever had with a girl in a life he had never lived. "Talk to me." Voice of a commander. Demanding answers.

"Colonel Petrovsky. Your friend from West Point. We're going to see him, aren't we?"

Utter silence, save his father's deep breaths. For a time there was only the sound of the seagulls and the clean smell of the lapping waves, just as it had been in his dream.

"Level with me, Val. What do you know?" Val snapped his head around so fast his father had no time to even blink. Old reflexes, fearing accusation. Recrimination.

All he saw was his father's concerned stare. "It makes no sense, dad. It makes no sense at all."

His father frowned. "We have time, yet. Why don't you tell me what you suspect?"

Val swallowed and shook his head, unable, unwilling to think that the skein of reality was so twisted as to give dreams such terrible purchase.

No matter the time Val would wake in the dead of night, grabbing his sleeping fellows by the ears, everyone awake in panicked seconds, the whole unit knowing without a word being said to follow him in absolute silence... moments before their former location was firebombed to hell.

His immediate superior's ire had vanished the second the first bombs hit. He had just blinked, gulping air like a fish, and had actually flinched away from Val, even as his fellows had given him quiet nods of respect.

There was a saying in the service. You could be atheist all you liked, a solid man of science. But when bullets and shrapnel were flying through the air, when the night was alive with screams and fire, that was when you found god. And when the man with the knack darted for cover like his tail was on fire, you didn't even think to protest or disprove. You ran like your life was on the line. Because more often than not, it was.

Val had always thought of himself as utterly practical, for all that he loved history and fantasy, and found the battlefield accounts of strangeness the products of minds tormented by stress, looking for certainty. He had thought the idea of gut checks and trusting your intuition to be the stuff of the big screen.

Until he turned out to be the one with the golden gut, trusting to something he didn't even understand to keep them all alive.

And then it had failed him.

Because there was no magic sense. It was all in his head. Flashes of intuition that had some logical correlation. A subtle change in air pressure, perhaps; the smell of explosives so faint it hardly registered, just before the bombs fell. Light from odd angles hitting your eyes, the flash of insight telling you that you were in someone's crosshairs. All of that, explainable. Senses as finely tuned as a hound's. No magic necessary. And any man, no matter how brilliant, could make a mistake. Even the best hounds could be fooled.

But the dream he had...

No. Just... no.

Grimly, Val shook his head. "Let's assume I don't suspect shit." Strained words, barely a whisper. "Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

The cold gaze of a commander pinned Val. "Very well, Val. Petrovsky did get in touch with me about an hour ago. He's desperate. His daughter's gone missing. He is hoping that somehow we can help."

Val felt dizzy with nausea and dread. He closed his eyes, trembling. Refusing to believe. No. He had kept his distance. He hadn't gotten too close. No matter how the fates hated him for surviving, they couldn't do this to a girl he hardly knew. No. It was just too fucked up! So of course it was true. When had life ever given a fuck about the tiny ants scurrying about its splendor? Individuals didn't mean shit. If they did, why had he been allowed to kill so many before fate had finally intervened?

So many screams to keep him company at night. And when he had been in the thick of it, he had reveled in it. Reveled as fiercely and sharply as he had playing the most ruthless of games, for what was life but the most savage of arenas? Rules were tools for the weak to subdue the strong, but in times of war, all rules were suspended, and the truly savage savored the sweetest fruits of victory, Death's hoary rinds the only solace for those who came in second place.

Val shook in memory of the gleeful hot madness that had allowed him to survive his extended tour so well. Bitter regrets only having hit when he had been wounded, half his unit lost, and he was sent home, forced to reconcile the dark monster he had become with the idealistic boy he once had been.

He forced himself to speak. "What does the timeline look like?" Gone unasked for was why Colonel Petrovsky would need the likes of them when there were any number of professional investigators and no doubt a dozen brilliant government contacts who could do so much more to find Julia than a battle-scarred 20-year-old could ever hope to.

His father sighed. "Damn good question. Truth is, we're not completely sure. It seems as though she had gone out to a job interview and hadn't been seen since. The colonel couldn't find any paperwork, but she had mentioned being selected as a beta testing candidate for a new game coming out that appears to have both a massive marketing and legal team behind it."

Val swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Endless Online. Julia raved about getting a chance to be part of the beta team."

"So you know Julia Petrovsky?"

Val nodded. "She's part of my group. My team. She's a, well, I'd like to think of her as a friend." He flashed a bittersweet smile. "She certainly treats us all as friends, for all that we started off just as a pickup-group of gamers who happened to work together really well. She's smart, fast on her metaphoric feet, can play a DPS glass cannon with the best of them, and how the hell did she end up missing?"

His father gazed thoughtfully out at the road ahead. "Frankly, I'm astounded. Both that you were able to piece everything together so fast based on almost nothing, and that you know her in the first place."

Val sighed. "The odds are fucking absurd. But so was me making it this long, surviving shit I still won't tell you about, and you'll never ask. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that there is no way her father would let her strip her gear as if she were going deep cover. What dad wouldn't want to be able to locate his daughter in a heartbeat? So how the hell is she still missing if both her car and phone are chipped, as is standard practice? Couldn't they track her location? Especially considering who her father is?"

His father nodded. "The million dollar question. Come on. Let's head on over and ask."

Before long they were driving past the most exclusive of neighborhoods, eventually finding themselves before a walled off property revealing an elegant Tudor home resting on a low hilltop just beyond, a saluting security guard quickly opening the gate before they had even come to a stop. Val took in the park-like grounds as they drove up the driveway, admiring the endless beds of roses, tulips, and wisteria rustling in the gentle breeze, the entire hill gated off from the world around it. But what caught Val's eye besides the manor itself as they crested the gentle rise was the cherry red convertible parked by the entrance.

Val's father chuckled. "Impressive, isn't it? Andrey's wife comes from noble stock, her family one of the few that managed to hold on to their wealth after the Russian Revolution. Assets enough to launch Andrey's business ventures with no need of outside capital, and afford Christine the home of her dreams."

His father frowned, his eyes going to the car Val was staring at so intently. "Val, are you all right?"

Grimacing, he nodded, his father quickly stepping out and preparing the chair, Val doing his best to clamber out of his seat and into the chair unassisted, all but ignoring the pain, eyes perpetually drawn to the car he now did everything he could to avoid looking at.

It was almost a relief when the door finally opened, revealing a powerfully built man with steel gray eyes and just a touch of white to his dark red stubble who could only be Colonel Petrovsky. He didn't hesitate to shake Val's hand with a smile after greeting his father, seeming genuinely pleased to see him, and Val could only hope he would look half as good as the colonel did when he got to be that age.

"John, thank you so much for coming. And you must be Valor? It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

Val grimaced at the full use of his name. Once it had meant something to him, but after what he had seen, the things he had done, he felt anything but valorous. He shook the stray thoughts away before meeting the colonel with a salute. "It's a pleasure, sir."

Their host chuckled. "None of that, son. You're my guest, and this is an informal occasion. Please, come inside. Make yourselves at home."

Val couldn't help but admire the tastefully decorated interior and winced at the thought of a young Julia racing through the house, spilling grape juice on the plush white carpets or the leather sofa he caught sight of in the living room. He felt a curious chill when his eagle eye caught sight of the slightest tinge of discoloration on the supple leather, like a years-old stain, well cleaned, that no one would spot who hadn't been looking for it.

Val quickly turned away when his father gently gripped his arm, a quiet whisper and a jerky nod from Val making it clear it wasn't pain that had stopped him. He was relieved beyond words to find their host used a bottom floor office. The thought of using the steps made him shudder, for all that he'd accept the fires of twisted muscle before he would let either man assist him up the stairs. All the same, it was a relief not to have to do so, and he didn't decline the small snifter of brandy laid out for him once they had seated themselves, for all that he still wasn't technically old enough to drink.

But more than old enough to kill for his country.

Strange times they lived in indeed, and perhaps the colonel felt the same way, sharing a smile as they clinked glasses. Val took a single sip, enjoying the mellow burn as the drink slid down his throat, glad he had taken the lowest dose of his meds, wanting to stay sharp, and knowing how dangerous it could be to mix narcotics with alcohol.

"To our brothers and sisters. We leave no man behind," were their host's solemn words, everyone drinking to that.

Colonel Petrovsky's smile was almost fatherly. "I really am glad you came, Val. I won't pretend to know what it's like to be in your shoes, but I can only imagine that the last thing you want to do is run errands for officers when you've already given up so much, and we lack the means to heal what's been taken away."

Val gazed thoughtfully at the man before bowing his head. "There's nothing a soldier appreciates more than a commander who values his troops as much as he does the mission. That being said, as much as I would give anything to take away my injuries, at the same time, it's mine. I own it." He swallowed, speaking on. "If I hadn't been there, my squad would have been completely wiped out. Even so, we're lucky as hell that any of us managed to make it out alive."

The colonel gave a slow nod. "Because you were the hound who led your brothers home."

Val swallowed at the foreign expression, but well able to understand what it meant. He stared a moment into those enigmatic brown eyes, gazing at him with such polite intensity. "So you know."

His host flashed a disarming smile. "I hope you will forgive my presumption, but, after what happened, I did a very thorough review of all my daughter's acquaintances. I feared the worst, and it came as no small amount of relief to find one of her associates to in fact be the recipient of the bronze star, and the son of an old friend. And one who lived quite close by, at that. It piqued my curiosity, and I will admit, I was not disappointed." He sighed. "And when I dug deeper and read some of the accounts, mentions of your... unique knacks had been made, here and there."

Val flinched, gazing down at his legs.

"Nothing to be embarrassed by, I assure you. Even at West Point, there were one or two who always knew when trouble was coming our way. The scholarly scoffed, of course. But West Point brooks no fools. Those who were smart, listened. And when we were all called to service, well, the pair that made it back without a scratch had the same thousand-yard stare you do." He shrugged. "Their warrior's gazes faded soon enough, both finding their way up the political chain and doing quite well, last I heard. A pair of men content with life, no doubt having long forgotten darker knacks." He took a thoughtful sip of his drink, looking over Val carefully.

"But I don't think you have. With your father's permission, I am hoping that you can help me." The commander's veneer of confidence faded to reveal the desperate gaze of a father panicked for his child's well-being. Explaining as well why Val's father had allowed the man free reign with his comments. He was focused on what mattered. Hell, they both were.

Val swallowed before nodding. "I'm no formal investigator, sir. Of course I'm more than willing to answer any questions you might have, but I'm not really sure how I can help you."

The colonel sighed. "Did your father mention my dilemma?"

Val nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Then you know my daughter went missing after applying for a job at a game company."

"ESI, short for Electronic Supersolutions Incorporated. Designing a game called Endless. She had mentioned trying to get in as a beta tester, that it was purported to be the most visually realistic of all games. We were happy for her..."

"Who is we?"

"Finn and John, the two other members that make up our four-man party. The four of us, well, we enjoyed gaming together. A shared hobby, you might say."

The colonel nodded. "Tell me about Finn and John. Were either ever inappropriate with my daughter?"

Val resolutely shook his head. "They were always polite. They might give me crap, being our bandleader, when things went south, but they've always treated her as a little sister. Protective of her, but casually so. Neither has ever made any inappropriate comments that I'm aware of."

His host nodded, taking another slow sip of his drink. "Tell me about John, what do you know about him career-wise? As a person?"

Val shrugged. "I think he's a graduate student, I don't know much more than that. I consider him an online friend, and would certainly take his call if he was in a real-life pinch, but it's like, when you're playing you take on a character different from yourself, your friends as well. We like to see ourselves as those characters, not as the people playing them, if that makes sense."

"Fair enough. Can you tell me anything about Finn?"

Val smiled. "Don't hold it against him, but he's a gunner. First armored division. I would bet money on it, even if he hasn't come out and said it. We shoot the shit, sometimes, but no particulars, since loose lips and the internet and all that."

Colonel Petrovsky nodded. "Correct. As was your deduction. I am glad to hear that both of your fellow... hobby enthusiasts were on good terms with my daughter, and as they both live hundreds of miles away from here, with Finn soon to be deployed, I am comfortable with your assessment of their character. And of course I have no doubts about your own, yet for formality's sake, let me ask, have you ever associated with my daughter outside of your shared online hobby?"

Val frowned and shook his head. "No. I didn't think that would be appropriate, for all that she asked me to join her during the last anime convention to hit our town." He smiled wistfully. "Honestly though, if I weren't the burned, scarred mess you see before you, I might have said yes. Rest assured, I would have been the perfect gentlemen." He swallowed before speaking. "The truth is I try to avoid being out in public as much as I can help it."

The colonel nodded. "Thank you for your candor. With what I've uncovered, it appears that no one else met with her before she went off for her interview." A hand idly tapping the table suddenly clenched the edge, squeezing so hard his knuckles whitened, his other hand still holding the brandy glass with frightful control.

Val's father nodded. "What do we know for certain, Andrey?"

"When the private investigator went to examine the job application sight. It was a front, for all that it was legitimately rented. We did some digging and a few oblivious employees of the mall made it clear that the candidates were to be taken by van to the final destination some distance from the mall, due to the classified nature of their software. And none of them seemed to find it suspicious. Not even the realtor who rented them the storefront!"

Val forced himself to ask the obvious questions. "Was there anyone representative of ESI at their mall office today? Is it possible the realtor is in on it, somehow?"

Andrey shook his head. "It's a fair question, Val. Best to rule out the obvious and cover all our bases before we look further afield. To answer your question, no. No one from the company was there today. Just a closed sign and a phone number linking to an answering service that knew virtually nothing about their client. We did a background check on the realtor. Completely clean, no signs of any money beyond standard rental fees being transferred to any account associated with the realtor or any of his employees. Of course, that doesn't rule out cash, but the representative gave no tells of deception. Only idiocy."

Val took a thoughtful sip of his drink. "Were you able to find out anything about other job applicants applying at that ESI branch?"

Andrey nodded. "A good question. And yes, it seems that ESI has conducted multiple beta testing seminars before, and none of the prospective candidates seem to find it at all odd that they are being carted off to unknown locals. Of the very few individuals we were able to visually identify from previous visits to the mall and reach out to, they were all so impressed by what they saw that their only regret was not being selected as one of the beta testers."

Val frowned. "But you only know about those visitors you tracked down through the mall's security cameras. I take it you weren't able to get records of everyone to come in for beta testing from ESI itself?"

Eyes flashing, the Colonel's fist slammed against his desk. "I'm able to get nothing beyond minimum state filing requirements! No details about the actual business or its practices, and I can track down nothing but answering services and e-mail addresses no one responds to! The heart of that damn company is buried under a dozen shadow entities, and their final corporate office is in Uzbekistan. Part of a conglomerate that specializes in immigrant labor pools! I'll need a lot of clout I'm still bringing to bear before we can put any pressure on them, and they'll be under absolutely no obligation to speak to any of us. Hell, for all we know, they'll claim to have a no hand's-on relationship with their gaming department, and that branch doesn't even have an official US office! And we know they must be responsible, because the mall cameras show my daughter entering a van along with at least ten others and a professionally dressed woman the mall manager assures me works at that ESI satellite office."

Val nodded in sympathy. He could only imagine the horror of one's child being potentially kidnapped not by a stranger, but by a faceless corporation that seemed all but untouchable by conventional means.

Andrey sighed shook his head, regaining his composure, the cool collected commander once more. "We could have pressed harder. Much. As it stands so far, we've kept things very discrete. People we've interrogated have been left with the impression that we are either vid-journalists, a competing game organization, or prospective beta testers ourselves. We don't want to spook our target. They've structured themselves with sufficient sophistication that they will no doubt be able to pull out with assets either shipped off or... disposed of, before we can hope to bring legal measures to bear."

Val took a deep breath, noting the various diplomas and awards granted the man before him, all tastefully displayed in the oak-lined study, doing his best to ignore the throbbing in his legs.

"You need someone to infiltrate them while their guard is down."

Andrey nodded. "Correct, Valor. From what my contacts at Langley have been able to work out, the front at that mall was just one of several, and they alternate between them. Obviously not every group brought in for beta testing suffers anything untoward. This helps to alleviate suspicion. And if they're smart enough to set up shop at a fresh location on a regular basis, they might have been operating for quite awhile under everyone's radar."

Val swallowed, locking gazes with the man before him, pain fading to a desperate tingle. "What would you have me do?"

So much said with that one request.

Then Val lowered his head, humiliated beyond words by the colonel's strange stare, forgetting in that moment that he was little more than a cripple.

Perhaps the man understood what Val had really been asking. Wordlessly, the man poured him another drink. "Actually, Val, there is something you can do for me, if you're willing, that could be vital to us tracking down and rescuing Julia."

Val nodded. "She always lifted my spirits whenever we would chat. Finding out that Julia's been kidnapped... anything I can do to help, sir, anything at all, I'm your man."

Andrey smiled, looking strangely relieved. "In truth, I had hoped you would be willing, more than you know. And with your father's permission, I'd like you to apply as a beta tester yourself. We've tracked down the closest satellite office they are currently using for interviewing prospective beta testers. It will be the perfect opportunity to do a little bit of investigating, and for all that I regret the challenges you may be forced to face, your wheelchair would make the perfect cover."

Val nodded. "No one expects a crippled spy."

"Correct." Solemnly, he handed Val two stick drives. "These both have codebreakers and transceivers inside. The best technology money can buy. Our hope is that they will wish to van in the selected beta testers, much as they had Julia, to their central location. If you can stick either one of these sticks into any computer tied to their network, we'll handle the rest." He gave a reassuring smile. "And don't worry if you find nothing suspicious at all. I have multiple contacts working angles that have absolutely nothing to do with VR, suspicious as I find their corporate practices to be."

Val nodded thoughtfully. "An injured soldier finding solace and happiness embracing the most exciting game ever to hit the market. I can see how that would go down well PR wise. With any luck, it will get my foot in the door."

"That's our hope." Solemn steel gray eyes fastened upon Val's own. "Are you still willing to do this for Julia's sake, Val?"

Val nodded. "Of course. I only regret that I can't do more."

The man smiled "Believe me, Val, if this works? You will have gone above and beyond any call of duty. More than that, you will have earned my gratitude and friendship."

Val nodded even as Andrey took the conversation down far lighter paths, reminiscing over times long past and hopes they all had for the future still, before Val's father called it a night, Val so lost in his thoughts as they made their way to the door that he was completely caught off guard by the vision of beauty suddenly in his sight, gazing at Val with emerald green eyes that seemed to peer into his very soul, hair so brilliant a blond it almost seemed gold.

Val blinked, then instantly made the connection, for all that she seemed far too young. "Mrs. Petrovsky. A pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

She flashed a brilliant smile. "No, dearest Valor. It is I who am honored to meet you." She nodded to his father before gazing down at Val, gently putting her hand on his cheek. "I know what you're planning to do for the sake of my daughter, my family, and I cannot tell you what this means to me. No matter what you find out, I won't let your sacrifice go unacknowledged." She then peered down at his legs with a clinical eye, giving a pitying shake of her head.

Val swallowed, suddenly feeling the burn in his legs like never before. He knew Julia's mother was a doctor, but the best specialists in the country had taken a look at his injuries, all of them uniformly amazed simply that he could walk at all. They had made it painfully clear that he shouldn't expect any significant improvement beyond the strides he had already made.

"May I?" she asked.

Val frowned but nodded, and before he knew it he was stretched out on a guest bed, pants removed, wincing in discomfort as he scooted himself into as comfortable a position as he could while Dr. Petrovsky pulled out a strange looking apparatus of silver gray metal that he thought might be an exotic stethoscope, with leads going into a small tablet she held. "This might hurt just a bit, Val, please bear with me."

Val then cried out as his leg spasmed with unexpected shocks from the tip of the apparatus.

"It's alright, dad," Val assured a few exhausting moments later, waving away his father's concerned frown.

Mrs. Petrovsky bowed her head to his father. "My apologies, Johnathan. My equipment is somewhat unorthodox, but the results I find to be extremely precise. I have just used an advanced form of electromyography to map Valor's musculature and nervous system. With this data in hand, I just might be able to do something useful. We'll see."

Val's father frowned, before giving a thoughtful nod. "Your husband's let it slip a time or two just how impressed he is by your technical skill set, and this isn't the first exotic device of yours that Andrey's shown me. Have you ever thought of patenting any your inventions?" Val blinked to see the doctor's look of alarm, quickly suppressed as his father spoke on. "But that's neither here nor there. I know your specialty is genetics and longevity, not cellular regeneration, but if you can do anything for Val, I would be beyond grateful."

Val nodded in complete agreement. "I wasn't expecting the shock, but if there is any chance that your approach can help me at all? I won't be able to thank you enough."

Mrs. Petrovsky balled her hands into fists. Val's eyes widened, sensing the simmering rage just beneath the doctor's professional veneer. "And if there is even a chance that you can find out what happened to my daughter, moving in circles that I am forbidden to enter, I will never be able to repay the debt I will owe you, Valor Hunter. If I can bring you any degree of comfort in return, it will be the least I that can do." She then turned to his father. "And I promise, Johnathan, if I'm ever ready to formally patent and manufacture my discoveries, Andrey will give you a call."

Their hostess then led them back to their car, the weight of her pleading gaze the last thing Val saw before they turned around and made their way back home.

Val frowned, picking apart Mrs. Petrovsky's final words. "What do you think she meant by circles she's forbidden to enter, dad?"

His father glanced his way for half a second before returning his focus to the road ahead. "I thought that was obvious, son. They dare not raise a fuss and tip their hand, or they risk those bastards cutting their losses and getting rid of any evidence. It's the same reason why Andrey's only brought a fraction of his resources to bear. Just enough to find out what we need to know with absolute discretion, without spooking our target."

Val grimaced. "Sorry, dad. Stupid question."

His father waved his apology away. "So, what do you think?"

Val blinked, turning away from the lake that had caught his eye once more. It truly was beautiful, lit up by the reflection of the city lights at night. He opened the window, enjoying the breeze, the horror he had felt before having faded away. "I'm looking forward to helping, if I possibly can. It's been too long since I last did something that mattered."

His father nodded. "We have the website, we'll fill out the application. You'll wax eloquent about your status as a wounded vet and your hopes to escape into this game promising a life free of constant pain, and we'll see if their PR snaps you up, making you a shoe-in for a beta-testing slot."

Sure enough, after he filled out the application, they got back to him by the next morning, thinking he just might be a perfect fit. Almost before he knew it, his father was driving into the massive lot just at the edge of the central mall building.

"Here. Andrey also gave me a transceiver. Let me just snap it into your phone, so it's not too alarming if they actually have equipment that can pick it up, as so many people's phones are hacked like beacons that it defies belief. Andrey and I will be keeping a close eye on you. Call me under any pretext, and I'll be at your location in less than ten minutes. You know what to say if you want me to call the police, or come for you, no holds barred."

Val grinned. "Sounds like a plan, and don't worry. Worst case, I'm a freelance writer looking to do an inside scoop. Since I've actually done a few articles and made a few contacts, they're far more likely to take me at face value than think I'm some sort of corporate spy."

His father's face hardened. "So long as they don't analyze the sticks you have too closely, looking beyond your saved articles. Fortunately, you look more like a struggling writer looking for a scoop than a spy guilty of industrial espionage. Nonetheless, it's a risk."

"It's alright. I'm doing this because I want to. If there is even a chance we can get some dirt that will help, there is no way in hell I want to pass this up."

His father nodded. "I think what you're doing is very heroic. But please, be careful. What we are doing is so off the books, and this company's clout is so significant, that it might well be all our asses and jail time if you get caught."

Val's gaze hardened. "Then they will get what's coming to them."

A steely grip, squeezing his shoulder so hard it hurt. "None of that talk, Val, or we are leaving right now."

Val gave a tight nod. "It will go smooth as silk, and if I don't see an opening, I'm just a beta tester, and I'll see what I can see from the customer side, just like Julia did."

His father sighed, squeeze turning to a gentle pat. "And enough beta testers have come back home safe and sound that odds are nothing is going to happen. But take no unnecessary risks. If there is no opportunity, you don't try to make one. Just walk away."

Val chuckled softly. "Or roll away, in my case. Don't worry, dad, I'll be fine."

As his father drove off, Val made his way to the front entrance of the mall, getting directions from the immediately sympathetic security who didn't even do a cursory examination of his wheelchair before escorting him directly to the ESI office. Val smiled his thanks and rolled into what looked like a branch from any one of a dozen game store retailers before so many went out of business, though the games in question all seemed to be from the same company. ESI. And when Val mentioned his beta testing application to the helpful sales staff, he was immediately led into a backroom with well over a dozen other potential beta testers.

It seemed he had just made it in time as they were at that moment prepping the vans for the ride to the top-secret location all the testers were talking about in excited whispers. Nor was there any paperwork for Val to fill, the smiling representative with a nametag reading Sally assuring Val with her thousand megawatt smile that everyone stopping by that morning had already been prescreened.

Everyone present was going to the ESI virtual testing center.

Heart racing with curiosity and excitement both, Val was more than understanding of their need to van Val separately, relieved when the driver and assistant relegated to escorting him there gave off no vibes of suspicion or hostility. It seemed they took him for just another gaming enthusiast, which he was, cheerfully responding with enthusiasm to their assurances that he would love the game before all three of them lapsed into silence, Val readying himself for what was to come.

5

An impressive entryway of Chrome and glass was the first thing to catch his notice as the van rode off with assurances that he just needed to head straight inside, the assistant seeing no need to escort him directly, merely waving with a friendly smile as his driver took off. Val shrugged that off and turned to face a revolving door that didn't look very accommodating of wheelchairs. The double glass doorway with chrome handles beside it was bolted shut, a repair sign leaning against it, and Val didn't see any other front entrance.

He chuckled ruefully. Of all the things to stop his reconnaissance, he didn't think being unable to get through the front doors would be one of them.

He pivoted in his chair, beginning to wheel his way around to look for another entrance when a cloud of auburn hair attached to an anxious young woman in a soft blue skirt and blouse caught his eye. He turned to face her as she approached.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry about that. They were supposed to escort you directly inside, along with the others. I will speak with their supervisor, have no doubt about that." She shook her head, gazing at the entrance of glass and steel. "We've been having problems with the lock, and have hired a repairman who should be looking into that."

Val smiled. "It's no problem, ma'am, no harm done. They looked to be in a hurry. I was just going to look for a side entrance."'

She flashed a relieved grin, as if happy just to not get an earful from an irate client. "You are a true gentleman, Mr...?"

"Val. Valor Hunter."

"Ah, Mr. Hunter. I have you on my list. Excellent. Again, I am so sorry. If you'll allow me, I'd be happy to take you right to the cafeteria, where we will be hosting our prospective testers and where we have already laid out a mini-buffet."

Val blinked at this. "But wasn't there paperwork for me to fill out?"

A friendly pat on his shoulder as she took his handles and began to roll him along to an obvious side entrance. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Val. Everyone will be given the forms that need signing right from the comfort of the cafeteria, but between you and me, they're only a formality. The most important bits you already took care of online. If I were you, I'd just pay close attention to the presentation. It really is something!"

Val nodded. "I can't wait, I'm really looking forward to it, and thank you so much for escorting me there personally," he enthused, for all that part of him bristled at needing the assistance. It made him feel like a cripple, no longer worthy of respect.

But that wasn't the role he was playing here. Smiling, chatting about the weather, how excited he was to play Endless, even praising how her skirt matched her blouse and set off her eyes perfectly, all the comments of an earnest young man, good-natured and excited and wanting to make a good impression.

Her replies flowed seamlessly into his patter, and she left him with a pleased smile and the promised plate of food and paperwork, no doubt relieved that he did not seem to begrudge the company their lack of accommodations for the impaired. Far cheaper to use fifteen minutes of a secretary's time than devote considerable resources to specialized walkways and other accommodations, Val reasoned, telling himself that he wasn't even angry that he had been profiled as special needs, for such misdirection served as great cover for his real assignment.

The paperwork started out straightforward, the first sheet comprised of a waiver releasing the company ESI from any and all liability for using their hardware or software, and stating in plainest English that anyone with a family history of seizures would not be accepted as a beta tester.

Val glared at the release form, signing it with a stronger scrawl than he had intended.

A single legitimate form still didn't change what happened. He would still do what he could to get to the bottom of things, even if it turned out they had nothing to hide. If that was the case? So be it. He'd accept that. But he was still going to do his damnedest to get those stick drives in play. In his mind, the calculus was simple. He had no problem putting himself at risk, if there was even a chance that he could rescue someone he cared about from dire peril.

Val began to look over the rest of the paperwork while eating his rather tasty Reuben sandwich, giving them credit for a fantastic cook or quality catering. The corned beef all but melted on the tongue, and the smoky bacon covered in melted chedder atop the sauerkraut only made it that much more a lunchtime masterpiece.

He gazed up after a few minutes, exchanging grunts and nods with his tablemates, one high school senior and two men in their twenties. One was short with considerable acne and a belly that needed working on, who Val chose to forgive his flaws, namely because of the way he tore into his Reuben with gusto, grunting at all the right notes. "This is a damned fine sandwich," he said, which had earned a nod from Val, and the guy hadn't flinched and grimaced for a smile upon catching sight of the scar going down Val's face. If anything, he seemed impressed.

"Wow, man, what happened to you, if you don't mind me asking? Wicked cool scar, by the way."

The high school kid blinked, looked up and grimaced before quickly glancing back down at his paperwork. The fourth member of their party, built like a tank and sporting a crew cut, had Marine written all over him. He glared down at his portly tablemate. "That's a damn rude question, man." He turned to Val, frowning slightly but not flinching, merely dipping his head as if paying respect. "Don't answer that if you don't want to."

Val forced himself to smile. "What can I say? Shit happens in life, sometimes. I'm not going to win any beauty contests and the Boston Marathon is out, but I can game with the best of them."

Crewcut nodded. "Any shitstorm you can limp away from is a good one, and I've seen a few myself. Where were you posted?"

Val blinked, realizing in that instant that Crewcut was no fool, or at least had an eye for those who had served. Tubby blinked, offhandedly scratching a mole. "Wicked scar and you were special ops or something? Sweet!" The high school kid blinked and looked up, scratching blond locks and gazing at Val in a new light. Shit.

"Nothing glorious, I was a water treatment specialist," Val explained.

Crewcut nodded. "A man can't fight for shit with his bowels running nonstop. Clean water is vital, wherever you're posted. My name's Hank, by the way."

Val held out his hand, Hank shook it. Grip strong and firm, but not trying to crush. It wasn't that kind of greeting. "Hank? I'm Val. Pleased to meet you."

Tubby frowned. "Water treatment? Is that like code for badass hit squad?"

The highschool kid smirked. "Really? Are you serious? My brother enlisted last year, thinking he'd see the world as a badass gunner. His first six months he pissed off the wrong officer and he got latrine duty. Right now he's just trying to get into weapon maintenance. Most enlisted are support, you know. It isn't that glamorous, but it's honest work." He looked up at Hank. "Him? A Marine? Sure, they'll make movies about him, but it's people like Val and my brother that make sure his water's clean that the latrine doesn't shoot crap in his face, and that the ASV's are working right and can get him where he needs to go."

Hank nodded solemnly. "You need to respect all the members of your team. A fighting man isn't worth much if he can't get to where he needs to be."

Tubby blinked. "That's a good point. It's just that when we play online, well, we never play support roles, so I didn't really think beyond a soldier as a guy with a gun or if he's lucky, a tank or a fighter."

Hank smirked. "Yeah, well, if you ever serve, you'll find it's a whole different ballgame. Still, it can push you to grow and better yourself in a dozen different ways." His glance turned appraising. "Have you ever thought of enlisting?"

Tubby paled, raising up both hands. "Um, no. I don't think I would be a good fit. I can barely walk a mile, and I'm a klutz with everything except computers."

Hank smiled, showing teeth. "Hey, that's no problem, we need IT specialists more than ever. If you're a wiz with computers, I can all but guarantee you won't be digging trenches, and more to the point, you'll be helping to protect your country. The rewards are considerable, and they might push you a bit, just enough to keep you in shape and hell, you might even get laid. You could look back three years from now, thanking god every day that you took the opportunity to better yourself."

If anything, their tablemate looked more flustered than ever. "Look, I... yeah, exercise and me don't really get along but um, yeah, if I ever ha ha enlist, I'll drop your name and give you full cred, okay?"

Hank chuckled. "Sure, kid. You know what? I hope you do. I'm fucking with you ten percent. But ninety percent, the armed forces could use more whizzes with a computer." To Val's unabashed pleasure, the powerfully built man actually handed Tubby his card. "Seriously though, if you have skills? They won't even time you on the mile run. You do it, automatic pass. You're in."

Tubby paled and swallowed. "Run? Me?"

The high schooler smirked. "Power walk that sucker. You'll end up working for the pentagon in no time! All the chicks and glory will be yours."

"Uh...yeah. Sure. Thanks for the card, Hank."

The three of them shared a grin as Tubby abruptly excused himself, tray in hand, re-seating himself as far from them as possible.

"You know, he is right about one thing," the high schooler said, gazing at Val a bit too consideringly.

"What's that?"

"You don't look like a clueless idiot. My brother is one. I should know. You wouldn't find yourself cleaning septic tanks and filtering water, not unless that's what you actually wanted to do. Your eyes are hard, like my uncle's. He was a special forces sniper, not that you asked. Now he's doing time for murder." The boy flashed a cheeky grin. "Tell me that WTS isn't code for some elite corp of black ops assassins."

Val blinked, totally flummoxed. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought a seventeen-year-old kid could have made him so damn fast. It was every agent's worst nightmare. And never had he been so happy for Hank's roar of laughter.

"Oh good one, kid, that's rich! Our boy Val here got his legs blown up and his face cut open and you're playing him as James Bond. I love it." Hank then grimaced an apology. "Sorry, Val."

Val chuckled and shook his head. "You know what, Pete? I'm going with your story. Fuck this stupid ass wheelchair. I'm James Bond all the way."

It was then that the back lights dimmed as several well dressed men and one woman in a power suit stood up in unison. The woman was a gorgeous platinum blond with shapely legs, gazing at them all intently with captivating eyes that flowed from brilliant blue to emerald green with every graceful tilt of her head. She nodded approvingly, flashing them all a dazzling smile. Val felt his cheeks blush as his eyes trailed the outline of a sensual physique all but bursting from a suit not really intended for a woman who stood as tall and proud as she did. He swallowed and rubbed his eyes, putting such thoughts away as best he could.

"Good morning, everyone. I am Solena Petrova, and on behalf of Electronic Supersolutions Incorporated, I want to welcome all of you visiting us today. You're all part of a very select group of beta users who will get a chance to experience what we truly feel to be the most immersive and realistic game to ever hit the market with graphics that aren't just bleeding edge, but are indistinguishable from real life." She grinned into the sudden silence. "That's right. Here at ESI, using patented technology and exclusive licensing agreements with the premier VR helm manufacturer in all of China, we have designed a game so breathtakingly realistic, both in sight and sound, that it will absolutely blow you away. Incomparable graphics, along with thousands of real-life actors and next-gen AI mimicking programs, have all been implemented to offer a truly singular experience, unlike anything you have ever seen or played before.

"All of those chosen to attend this event have been carefully selected from thousands of applicants, and we are happy to embrace candidates of all backgrounds and circumstances, delighted to show how Endless Online can be a boon not only to the entertainment industry, but as a form of therapy for selected individuals as well."

Val frowned at this, now more certain than ever that his status as a disabled veteran was what had opened the door for him. And who was he to judge? It was probably the only reason why he was sitting there today.

"But before we begin, we here at ESI want to ensure everyone that your well-being and happiness are truly our paramount concern. If you or someone you love has ever suffered from epilepsy or seizures, please let one of our staff members know so we may best assist and serve you."

"She means kick them out," Pete whispered as an aside.

Val smirked and nodded.

"Another thing, Val?"

"Yes, Pete?" Val whispered back.

"We're not wearing nametags. I didn't mention mine earlier because I didn't want creeps like Tubby trying to cyber-friend me. So how is it that you know my name?"

Val blinked, an icy shiver running through him as he gazed into Peter's curious features. He forced himself to grin. "Because I'm James Bond, remember? I'm clever like that."

Pete's frown turned into a rueful chuckle. "Guess I had that coming. And if all you did was clean water, then I'm Daniel Craig."

Val shrugged. "I was always partial to Sean Connery myself."

"He's okay. Pierce Brosnan was my favorite, the least campy of them."

Val frowned "Least campy? Daniel Craig is the only serious one of the bunch."

Pete nodded. "I know. It's almost depressing. Pierce Brosnan was a good mix between them."

Hank looked up from his paperwork. "Aren't you a little bit young for James bond?"

Pete smirked, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Hardly. My uncle's a film critic."

"I thought he was an ex-sniper serving time for body count?"

"Different uncle. My dad's side has the crazies. My mom's are all complete normies."

"Damn, kid, how many crazies are in your family, anyway?"

Pete grinned. "You tell me your body count, Hank, and I'll tell you."

Hank turned to Val. "This kid is something else, isn't he?"

Val nodded, turning his full focus once more to the lecture, intrigued despite himself.

"...To that end, we have invested our extensive resources to make the sense of immersion as seamless as possible. You can lose yourself for hours embracing the life and story of your alter ego, or set internal alarms to naturally rouse you to full wakefulness, should real life duties call." Polite chuckles at that. Certainly she had picked the right audience. Save for Hank, they all looked like serious gamers, and Val had no doubt Hank enjoyed FPS as much as any of his friends did during their R&R.

"So how does character creation work?" Asked a voice in the audience, and everyone gazed attentively as Solena smiled, dipping her head.

"A wonderful question, and that cuts to the heart of so much of what role-playing is about, no? Finding the class, the build, that suits you best, that speaks to you. Whether you enjoy questing, treasure hunting, exploring, or world-spanning battlefields, you want to find the class that fits you best. But all too often, as we all know, classes are only approximations, rough cookie cutter builds."

Val nodded at that. Classes were fine for grouping, letting you know the roles your fellows could best manage, and vital for PUG groups. But they did limit your opportunities to develop your character your own way, and unorthodox builds could also be quite effective for PvP. But they were a nightmare for most games to balance when players thought of clever ways to beat the system, and it was all too easy for novice players to cripple their potential without even realizing it. For that reason, four or five carefully balanced classes was the rock-paper-scissors balance almost all MMORPGs went with, even now. It would be interesting to see if ESI had found another way.

"Well, I am pleased to inform you all that besides endless excitement and adventure, forging your own path through the game will be part and parcel to your experience. To that end, we have found a unique method unlike any other game on the market today."

Everyone gazed at her expectantly as Mrs. Petrova flashed a thousand-megawatt smile. "Bio-Resonance."

Val blinked, the raised whispers making it clear he wasn't the only one who had no idea what she was talking about.

Solena let the murmuring swell for some moments, her smile growing wider. "You decide the class you will play. But not as you think. Or rather, it is what you think, how you think, that will determine your strengths, your weaknesses, what disciplines and potencies will be available to you. What you do from there is completely up to you."

Val couldn't help smiling. It would be an absolute nightmare for grouping, but for individual immersion, it sounded utterly fascinating.

"But how does grouping work if there are no defined classes?" asked a bold voice.

"And what if you don't like what your so-called bio-resonance gave you? Can you reroll?" asked another.

Solena's smile did not waver. "At this point and time, our sole interest is to provide as immersive and enjoyable a storyline experience as we possibly can. Though nothing prevents you from teaming with an ally, should you make friends in the game, there is no grouping function."

Stunned silence. "In fact, our game world is so vast and immersive, it is very likely that you won't meet any of your friends without the most concerted of efforts." Her grin only widened as the room became utterly still. "In fact, our AI's are so streamlined and immersive that it is very likely that you won't even be able to tell the difference between an NPC and a fellow gamer at all."

A wave of excitement and disbelief crashed into the dead silence, gamers at various tables falling into heated discussions even as Solena pointedly raised a glass of champagne and sipped, enjoying the spectacle. "You heard right. A vast, immersive game realm that encompasses multiple worlds, steeped with fantastic lore and technology that is both futuristic and primitive, where lasers, lightning wands, swords and suits of mechanized armor can be found. Do you have what it takes to be a fireball wielding master of the elements? Soaring upon wings of magic through Venusian clouds extending for thousands of miles? Such a path is possible. Could you find yourself in a mech suit controlling a massive battlebot cyber-linked to your every move? Launching lazer fire at enemy opponents on a campaign of conquest? You could. You very well could. Could you be a Psiblade wielding master of the mind, able to crush your foe's psyche with a single dark thought? It all depends on you."

She smiled at the increasingly excited crowd. "Mech-warrior, Battlemage, or Psion Master; those of you who have signed your wavers and can commit to at least forty hours of play for the next three weeks will have a unique opportunity to find your chosen path before anyone else. Anything and everything is possible, should you have the drive, the passion, the potential to make your dreams come true."

6

Val blinked, heart racing. He turned to his tablemates. Peter and Hank were both wearing undisguised expressions of awe and wonder that Val knew mirrored his own. The thought of losing himself in multiple worlds filled with AI so advanced that the NPCs were indistinguishable from reality, the potential of total immersion did take cookie cutter build pressure and throw it right out the window. It seemed that this game was utterly character driven, and the thought of commanding a thousand mechanized soldiers across unfathomable battlefields, or flying through endless brilliant cloud kingdoms filled with adventure, or exploring sacred ruins for the keys to unlocking mystical powers, all of it filled him with a sense of exhilaration he hadn't felt since his very first game.

"Goddamn, that sounds incredible!" Hank enthused, quickly scanning back over his forms, signing a missed spot with a flourish. "Well, that's that, boys. Seizure risk or no, I'm all in."

Peter smirked but couldn't hide his enthusiasm. "Yeah, I feel the same way. Hell, Hank, if you weren't in the service, I'd want you on my team, no matter what our Russian princess of a host says about grouping. And don't you have to be ready to serve in a heartbeat?"

Hank smiled before nodding to Val, the respect of one soldier for another. "Val isn't the only wounded warrior at this table, Hank." He lifted up his boot with one powerful leg. "You can't see it, but half my foot was blown off while I was behind enemy lines. My spotter thought we were through, but we cauterized and bandaged that fucker and I hobbled my ass into position. Then I did what I had slogged through twenty miles of god-awful terrain to do, and made it back in almost one piece, for all that you could fry an egg on my forehead with the fever I was running." He shook his head and sighed. "Earned me a medal, medical disability, and a guaranteed cushy contract position, once I play the psych and rehab game. They let me finish my eighth year on my back, since I was only a month from being up for reenlistment, and these last two weeks I've been stir crazy as hell."

Pete nodded, his expression unusually solemn, as the former Marine quirked a wry smile. "And how is it that a high school student managed to finesse himself into this beta group?"

Peter grinned. "Long story short, after getting busted in eighth grade for a little unorthodox entrepreneurialism, I bet my parents that if I could stay clean and rock my GPA, they'd let me game as much as I wanted. I upped the ante after my first month of high school, finessing a promise that if I could graduate a year early, I'd have a year to do whatever the hell I wanted without any pressure or grumbling from them, and if l didn't, I'd go to Wharton just like my father had."

Val chuckled. "And you did just that, I bet. Clean as a whistle, no longer selling pot, killing all your classes, and when all your teachers urged you to apply early you smiled and nodded at all the right notes, so they were all too happy to accelerate you. But the moment you had your diploma you laughed in everyone's faces and never looked back, I bet. And since your family's pretty rich, you don't have to stress the perfect resume track record. I'll bet you're just worried about one day having to manage what your father or grandfather started, and not muck it all to hell."

Peter's blinked, grin fading, though he gave a nervous chuckle. "Damn, you are a perceptive one, aren't you, Val? I guess reading your targets is one of the tricks of the trade for a black ops assassin then?"

Then Val was the one to blink, at a momentary loss for words for what had seemed utterly obvious to him from Peter's clothes, attitude, snarky but not cruel demeanor. Selling pot was a game for someone like Peter. Selling meth or the like would have been an act of desperation or coldest calculation, which didn't fit the boy's MO at all. And considering Peter's attitude about his brother enlisting, grungy job or no, it was obvious that their family had money and easy connections to an officer's path. The boy's natural savvy, restlessness, and ability to think outside the box made Val think his father had made his mark as an entrepreneur, not by thirty diligent years in a cubicle. Getting a sense of Peter had been like clicking together the pieces of a puzzle, nothing exceptional about it.

Hank chuckled softly. "Kid's a real character, isn't he?"

Solena's throaty voice washed over them all once more. "And there you have it, friends. Worlds of endless adventure and possibility, ripe for exploration, discovery, even conquest await you. But sign your contracts, and come this way."

Hank blinked as people rapidly began racing through their paperwork, in a hurry to join their hostess, who did nothing to slow down her stride as a few raced after. "Crap, that's fast. She hardly waited for any questions."

It was then that one of the two men present took a moment to stand. "We thank you all for coming. Unfortunately, we've had some last minute changes in slotting, so not everyone will be allowed to participate, I'm afraid. If you want to assure yourselves a seat, ladies and gentlemen, I'd advise you to waste no more time."

Peter grimaced. "Hot damn if that isn't high pressure enough. Fuck it. No seizures in my family, let's do this, guys. Who knows? Maybe we'll be able to group after all, whatever that ice princess says. Let's just enter simultaneously."

Hank frowned, looking anxiously toward the departing hopefuls. "Sounds good. Let's get a move on, guys, they're collecting our paperwork."

Val nodded, then froze, blinked once, and took it all in. The considering gazes of the man who had only chosen to speak at that moment; Solena's grand speech, then her rush at the end; the way everyone was feverishly racing with paperwork in hand to the doors obviously leading to the inner sanctum, and the smiling man collecting their waivers. And what detailed waivers they were.

"Val? What are you waiting for? Come on, man," Peter urged.

Val swallowed, feeling the weight of increasingly impatient eyes staring at him, the fragile strings of acquaintanceship too easily snapped by the changing tides and pressures of the moment. If Val didn't hurry, Pete and Hank would leave, strangers once more.

For all that he thought himself inured to such forces, he liked both the bemused Marine and the snarky boy genius. But surrendering to pressures, to the expectations of others, could be folly as well. He did not like the way the two suits were eyeing them. They made his gut crawl. "Sorry, Pete, something feels off. Give me a minute."

Pete's brows furrowed, but Hank held the boy's shoulder, no longer the bemused jock, his voice that of a soldier. "Hold, Pete. We know Val's got a good eye, and these guys are hard-selling like there's no tomorrow." He then flicked a glance at the two suits, frowning, reseating himself.

"The hell with this. If you guys got cold feet, that's on you." Pete glared at them both.

Hank smiled while Val carefully looked over the paperwork a second time. "What's born every minute, Pete?"

Pete frowned, gazing at Hank, looking back at the rapidly thinning crowd of people presenting paperwork being carefully looked over by the smiling gentleman in a perfectly tailored suit before they were ushered in back, one by one. "A sucker," he quietly said, reseating himself, frowning at Val and Hank both, skimming through the paperwork as well.

"Hot damn," Pete hissed, a few minutes later.

Val looked up, a hard grin on his features. "Not just a waiver, is it?"

Pete swallowed, shaking his head. "It's an addendum. You wouldn't even get the wording if you weren't really, really looking for it."

Hank frowned. "Spot for me, Val. What am I looking for?"

Solemnly, Val pointed to the incriminating lines. Hank's brows furrowed. "Is this saying what I think it's saying?"

Val nodded. "At first glance, your eyes glaze. Due compensation for extended testing provisions, mandatory overtime compensation promised, not to exceed a certain number of days."

Pete smirked. "Until you realize that what it is basically saying is that, at their discretion, this beta testing form becomes an employment contract, all legal loopholes fulfilled. See where they got our social security number, supposedly to prove we're who we say we are and seizure free? Equally valid for assuring citizenship and employability."

Val nodded. "Locking us in a contract with a million dollar breach penalty that we thought was a nondisclosure penalty but is, in fact, a termination penalty for a minimum wage job with hours and at a location they are in full control of, for a five-year period, should they choose to enforce it."

Hank's gaze grew icy cold as he crumpled up the paperwork. "Goddamned bastards."

Val frowned. "Subtle, buddy. Look at the suit gazing our way. We're the only table not playing ball. He doesn't look happy. And I'd save that, if I were you, in case we need it as evidence later, or at least to raise a hue and cry about this bullshit." He shook his head and cursed. "Fuck it all. Two minutes ago I thought, I hoped, well it was all just too damned good to be true, wasn't it? And now I need to see what's going on more than ever."

Peter frowned. "Let's just get out of here."

Val nodded. "That's the plan." He felt a curious twisting in his gut as the rest of the all too enthusiastic testers finished handing over their paperwork before darting inside the main room as fast as their feet would take them.

Now both suited men were staring at the three of them, one of them quietly speaking in an earpiece, his gaze all too similar to the stares of men Val had faced in arenas far darker than this one. He felt a furious surge of adrenaline, never hating being half crippled as much as he did at that moment. "Hank, are you packing?"

Eyes widened in alarm, a curt shake of his head. "Goddamn. It's like that already, is it?" He smirked. "I can box almost as good as ever, and my injured foot is basically a metal club. If I lead with it, knees are cracking. I just can't run for shit."

Val nodded. "My phone's dead in here. Let's keep it casual. Cover story? Pete's sister has seizures, I'm an idiot who thought this was flatscreen, brain trauma during action means I'm VR-helm restricted, you're going to take us home and reapply next month."

Hank nodded, taking the lead and pivoting Val's chair around, as if Val were completely invalid. "Sounds good. Pete, you're frustrated, Val's depressed, I'm playing big brother caretaker. Put on your party faces, guys. Stooge one is heading our way."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, is anything wrong? Solena's getting the Endless guided tour all ready to go on the big screen in back before everyone straps in for takeoff." The suited gentleman whose face was hard like an athlete's, not pudgy or pasty like most middle management, flashed a smile Val knew was meant to be friendly. "And please, don't worry about limited space. I just made a call and good news. We do in fact have space enough to accommodate everyone. Now if you'll just hand me your paperwork, you can prepare for the experience of a lifetime." He held out his hand expectantly.

"I'll be fine!" Peter hissed, as if on cue. "My sister only seized when she had a fever, and my mom's been stable since she started taking the gabapentin."

Hank gave a sad shake of his head. "Peter here confessed to multiple family members having seizures. Endless sounds like a fucking fantastic game, and you guys getting sued for a minor frying his brains on your VR sets because he seizes with all the flashing lights would mean Endless gets killed with bad publicity." Hank shook his head at the thought. "This game sounds too good for me to risk that happening, even if I can't play as a beta tester. Don't worry about the transportation, this one's on me. I'll flag us a taxi and take this kid home to his parents."

Val nodded, playing along. "And I feel like an idiot. I thought, or maybe I should say hoped, that this game would be flatscreen as well. But all your paperwork says VR helm, and the doctor said that's a no-no with the metal now in my head. Hank's one of the good ones, offering to drive me home because as a fucking cripple I can't do shit for myself. I can't even play a game where I can win!"

The suit blinked, and Val hoped he hadn't overplayed it. The man then frowned but slowly nodded, listening to his headpiece. "I understand, gentlemen. Would you like us to flag a taxi from the garage? We can call you one ourselves, and no worries, the cost is on us."

Frowning, Hank nodded.

"Very good. Then allow me to escort you there." He flashed another smile. "It's the least we can do." He looked pointedly at Val, obviously handicapped, and Peter, obviously a minor. If Hank was just a casual acquaintance doing a good deed, and they were leaving for purely incidental medical reasons, there was no good reason for them to refuse the free ride. Hank sensed it too.

"Sounds good, thanks," Hank said, as they made their way down an office corridor to what they were assured was the back exit to the building, connecting right to the parking lot.

"This should save you a good five minutes wait time, sir, and keep you out of the rain."

Val nodded, exchanged an intent glance with Hank.

"Alright, here you are, sir. The parking garage is just ahead."

Val nodded, ears roaring with the sound of his racing heart, flexing his legs, readying himself.

Peter nodded at the suit's words and opened the door.

"Pete!" Val hissed.

Pete backed up in alarm, but it was already too late.

As the door began to open, Val hesitated no longer. Lack of proof no longer mattered as survival instincts savage and primal took over.

He knew what it meant to herd a frightened doe into a corner before striking. He had set up enough ambushes to know how this game was played. If he was wrong, he would deal with that in court. But one thing was for sure. Suit was giving off bad vibes like a hot rod of uranium, and Val would be damned before he'd let himself be taken down this easy.

Hank instantly got it, slamming into the door and shoving Pete away even as Val accepted the fiery screams of his shaky legs for that desperate, precious moment of surprise as the suit's eyes widened before Val stunned him with a palm strike full force into the man's chin, cracking teeth and arching his head back.

Val did not hesitate, his alternate hand spearing forth in an adder strike, slamming full force into the man's trachea.

The man's eyes widened as he collapsed, curling up into a fetal position, gurgling and wheezing horribly.

Val pivoted around, forgetting for a moment that he was a cripple, stumbling to the floor as Peter gazed down in horror at what he had done.

Shots rang out from the room beyond, Val catching sight of a mad scuffle, Hank somehow in that room, not a garage at all, his bright shirt now sprinkled with blood.

Peter stared in shock.

"Run!" Val screamed. "Get out of here as fast as you can! Don't look back! Go to the police! Go now, now, now!"

The boy took off like a comet as Val desperately searched the pockets of the man still struggling for breath, feeling a surge of triumph as his hands felt the familiar grip of a glock, yanking it free of its shoulder holster, spinning toward the door.

"Hank!" Val shouted into the now deathly silence. "Damn it," he hissed, eyes darting all about the now empty corridor. No sign of anyone, not even a curious or frightened beta tester, for all that Val's ears rang with the sound of the shots fired just a room away.

"Shit." Val immediately shuffle crawled out of the center of the corridor, knowing how vulnerable he was, pure adrenaline dampening the agony in his legs, tuning out the dying wheeze of the man writhing only feet away, ears attuned to whatever was happening on the other side of the door.

Nothing. Dead silence.

A waiting game. An armed suit could be waiting with a bead on the doorway, just ready to put a slug in Val in the split second he oriented, uncertain where his target was, or if there even was a target, then a single flash and he was done.

The math was simple. If Hank was alive and present, Val should hear something, whether noise, groan, or confirmation, so he knew it wasn't a trap. But if Hank had been distracted in those mad moments and was there, in the same boat, waiting for confirmation... he'd give it one more go. "Hank, I'm good. If you're there, say so, we got to go!"

Val focused his breath, heart still hammering, forcing a chill stillness that he could embrace for some reason even in the maddest of situations, thought suddenly lucid and clear, knowing that if armed men he didn't recognize as Hank came through, they were as good as dead.

That left a few options. One, Hank was dead. Val could do nothing about that. Two, Hank had escaped, and was clear of the area, in which case Val would serve him best making his own way out. Possibility three, Hank was in desperate need of aid, but the dead silence meant he was severely wounded or unconscious, and Val was in no position to treat a critical injury. That left the fourth and most likely possibility. Armed men were waiting for him to stick his head through the door for a quick peek, and would take it off with a high caliber slug.

Of course, it was also possible that Hank was being held as a hostage at gunpoint. Then the worst thing Val could do was show himself. They could pop him right there, and then they'd have no reason to spare Hank, and every reason to kill him.

But if Val were to escape, they have every reason to keep Hank alive, lest Val report Hank's state and evidence be found ASAP before they could clean up brain splatter everywhere, harder than most realized without a ton of bleach or the like, and if they spared Hank, then they could do their best to spin Val as the murdering psychopath, they acting in self-defense, Hank and Peter just tragically caught in the middle of it.

So be it. If him being pegged as the sacrificial lamb kept the other two alive, he'd bear that burden. Now it was time to get the hell out as fast and safely as he could.

Decisions, decisions. Ultimately it was the pain that drove him. That and leaving no evidence. He forced himself on twitching legs back into his wheelchair, but not before he pulled out the wallet of the fallen man. Demetri Hajec of the Czech Republic, present on a tourist visa. Val frowned but immediately began moving, one hand to the wheel of his chair, the other with pistol ready, knowing he had no time to waste as he made his way down the farmost corridor, hoping to run across a fire exit at the far end of the building, freezing up as he heard hushed voices coming from the intersection ahead, his frantic eyes darting to a doorway just ahead. Unlocked. A quiet push, and he rolled in just as the voices strengthened, Val softly closing the door, swallowing his stomach as he oh so slowly released the lock as the harsh, guttural voices passed, speaking what Val guessed was Czechian, though he couldn't be sure.

Val looked around, catching sight of half a dozen computers and one terrified-looking man frantically lurching back, hands raised as Val aimed the gun at him.

"Don't make a sound."

The portly balding man shook his head frantically.

"Do you know English?"

"Of course," he said, though his accent was far thicker than Solena's had been.

"Good. Then you can tell me what the hell is going on here!"

The man was breathing rapidly, near hyperventilating. "This is ESI. We make games, yes? There is nothing valuable here save the computers. Do you want one? Take whichever one you want, just please don't shoot me!"

Val took a deep breath. "I don't care about the game. I care about why your friends tried to ambush us when we attempted to leave."

The man blinked. "Shoot? Why would anyone shoot you? You must be mistaken. We are in the market for... beta testers, yes? Were you part of the group? You were one of the wounded veterans we wanted to test, yes?"

Val's brows furrowed. "What's this about testing? And how do you know a thing about me?"

The man flashed a pained grimace. "A, how do you say, slip of the tongue? I am nervous, quite nervous right now. You understand, yes? I fear for my life?"

Val nodded even as he grabbed a chair and awkwardly positioned it to block the door from being immediately slammed open. There was no deadbolt. The best he could do was buy himself an extra second or two to pivot and aim so no threat could sneak up on him.

"Take a deep breath," Val said. "And tell me about this testing."

The man blinked nervously. "Yes. Beta testing. We are looking to harvest the best um... candidates for our game."

Val forced a cold smile. "There's more to it than that, isn't there? A lot more."

The man swallowed. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Val nodded, tossing the man one of his stick drives. The man yelled and flinched as if thinking it a grenade, relieved to find it wasn't, then paling as he saw what it was.

"Stick it in," Val demanded. "You know exactly where."

The man licked dry lips. "Please, you don't want to do this..."

"You have five seconds to put the flash drive in the port, or I will shoot you in the spleen, and I will do it myself while you scream and kick on the ground, but I'd rather not get blood on my wheels." Val flashed a cold smile. "Your blood. All over these floors. Is that what you want?"

The man desperately shook his head, trembling hands carefully sticking in the drive, stealing a glance at Val as prompts suddenly popped up. "Full access better be granted." The man nodded frantically and did just that.

"Good. Now tell me about these contracts."

The man's pallor turned ghastly. "I... I'm sorry, contracts?"

Val glared at the trembling man. "What we thought were beta player contracts are actually work contracts. Five years of what amounts to indentured servitude for little more than federal minimum wage, full nondisclosure, implying we can't even contact our families without your say so, and a million dollar breach of contract penalty if we dare protest in the least. That is what you bastards tried to get us to sign with your hyped up bullshit game! Don't think I don't know! Now you are going to tell me everything that's going on, or so help me I'll pull this trigger, and you'd best not think I give a shit about consequences! There are thirty Americans here that you bastards are trying to force into indentured servitude, and you'll only be the second bastard I killed today."

And before the man could do more than blink, Val had rolled up to him, gun to temple. "Tell me, were they even going to stay here? Or were you assholes going to drug them and freight them overseas with this bullshit contract their final goodbye to friends and family? I know we're just half a mile from the port!"

The look in the balding man's eyes turned Val's blood to ice.

"By the gods. That's just what you were going to do! And once they were overseas, with this paperwork filed, no one could do a damn thing without a royal uproar. You fucking bastards."

It was everything he could do not to pull the trigger.

"Please, you don't understand! Jordia is real."

Val frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Jordia. The planet? It is real! Your friends? Associates? Will be embracing Endless with every fiber of their being. This is true, I promise you!"

Val glared. "Then why are you trapping these beta testers into five-year contracts with million dollar breach fees and carting them off overseas, if this is just an innocent game?"

The man blinked rapidly. "It's... it's very complicated."

Val grimaced. "Let's keep it simple. Where are they going?"

A deep, shuddering breath as Val slowly squeezed the trigger and grinned. "Uzbekistan," he finally gasped. "They will be working for us in Uzbekistan."

Val carefully pivoted to see the monitor even as his de facto hostage grimaced desperately.

Fuck! There was no digital software or game related material whatsoever on display. Rather it looked to be a snapshot of multiple companies hiring overseas, digital copies that looked suspiciously like their contracts were being scanned in and filed by the man before him.

Val hissed and lurched back, realizing he was being a fool. "Hands up where I can see them."

He had been too close, too distracted. If the foe he faced had been any kind of fighter, Val could have been stunned, disarmed, or shot.

Only naked hands and a frightened grimace met his gaze, however.

"Please, please don't shoot me."

Quick as thought, Val pulled out his phone. "On the ground, hands in back." He began opening files and taking snapshots of all he saw, including the contracts signed by the beta testers not long ago, before grabbing those contracts himself.

Val frowned, eyes scanning for cords, grinning in fierce satisfaction to see that Yusef's phone was actually ported in.

A sudden sharp rap on the door. "Yusef. Yusef, is everything all right?"

"Say you're fine." Val hissed, surprised the man outside had spoken in English.

"Da," Yusef replied, swallowing. "Very busy, I just need to focus."

Someone rattled the handle, the chair holding perfectly, better than Val had thought it would. "Yusef? Open up, we have security issue!"

Yusef whimpered, even as Val calmed trembling fingers, connecting to one of his dummy accounts and plugging in his phone, sending an e-mail to the colonel's account.

"Tell him you're jacking off!" Val snapped, his terrified captive saying just that, though it sounded like he was climaxing or terrified, as Val wrote his message. Entrapment, five-year minimum wage work contract with million dollar termination fee disguised as liability release for imaginary? game, before beta testers were sent overseas. Forced labor? Indentured servitude? Kidnapping? Come ASAP, 30 citizens imperiled, 1/2 mile from peer. Uzbekistan might be destination or false flag. (Tried to contain us when 3 of us attempted to leave, shots fired, one aggressor downed. One former Marine might be shot/killed/escaped. One 17 y/o boy terrified, on the run.) Pics of contracts and dummy work requests and permits included.

After that, Val flipped a key switch on his phone, turning it into a homing device, sending a message that shots were in play. If his father got hurt or worse because Val panicked and didn't inform him of the danger so he could get appropriate backup, Val would never forgive himself. Of course, there was a very good chance his dad wouldn't pick up the signal at all.

A moment's hesitation as the individual at the other end paused to consider Yusef's words. "One minute to zip your pants and wipe your goddamned hands, Yusef, we have no time for games!"

Val smiled, nodded.

"Yes, one minute! Oh gods, so good!"

Val frowned, not thinking the latter necessary, but what the hell.

"Wipe your hands well, you sick puppy."

In those frantic seconds Val kept his eye on Yusef trembling on the ground as Val backdoored into his stick as the colonel had instructed, grabbing the raw data as a series of files and e-mailing away as fast as he could.

"Times up, Yusef," said a voice now void of all warmth.

Val smiled. "Tell him it's dirty. You need to clean your tracks, or it's jail time."

Sobbing with humiliation, Yusef did just that.

No response save a sudden hard slam to the door, the chair jolting forward a good two inches.

Val hissed. Several files were still uploading. No time.

A crack as the door juttered forward another few inches, the chair leaving ugly black marks on the floor.

"Crawl forward, hands behind your head," Val ordered, pointing his gun at a trembling Yusef who did just that, assuring Val had all his targets in easy range at a narrow angle, minimizing the chances any could rush him.

The voices outside increased in intensity, a feminine one speaking a guttural dialect silencing them all.

Before speaking in a voice that chilled Val to the quick.

"Valor Hunter, is that you in there? Doing naughty things with one of my servants?"

Val swallowed, but did not answer.

Strange tinkling laughter suddenly echoed through the room, a background susurration as she spoke on. "Dear Valor, I do believe we got off on the wrong foot. I think you will find Endless to be absolutely captivating. Come, my fallen soldier. It is time for you to embrace the singular joy of giving in to the dark rapture waiting for you. For all of you."

Val hissed, horror warring with fury as he felt shadowy fingers slowly crawling inside his mind.

The door tore open with a crash, Val's hand slamming down upon the keyboard as his off-hand pointed trembling gun at the scene before him.

Yusef, upon the ground, begging and pleading for his life. A ferocious-looking bear of a man, heaving, the door having crashed open to his powerful blows, wearing a suit like the others, with tufts of hair sprouting from wrist sleeves and neckline, his glaring face home to dead grey eyes staring at Val with a killer's gaze. He was followed by another henchman holding a desert eagle in a confident grip.

Solena Petrova of the platinum blond curls and sleek, powerful frame was next to enter, smiling at Val's shaking hand, completely unafraid.

Val then held the pistol with both hands, his aim suddenly steady as a rock.

He smiled and breathed deep, a warrior of battle once more. No fear, no horror, no regret for the man who had died, choking and gasping to Val's still throbbing knuckles just a handful of minutes ago. His mind was clear, and he was suddenly back where he belonged. The screams of men dying around him, so many by his own two hands, and death a hungry specter always on his shoulder. Grinning his mad rictus of a smile, an echo of Val's own, one and the same.

Solena's confident grin turned into a snarl. "Put the gun down, worm."

Shadowy fingers of doubt and despair slithered into Val's brain.

He could feel the horror of Solena's will crawling through his mind, nightmare compulsion seeking to control him like a puppet, a seductive sleep-like summons he almost succumbed to, slipping away in a dark, yawning chasm.

Jolted awake by visions of himself screaming and shitting his pants, covered in the blood of his comrades. Unspeakable horrors he had come to terms with long ago, laughing in darkest glee, pulling his trigger over and over. The horrors of nightmare and shadow. Until he became one with the shadows, one with his own darkness, his foes sensing him not at all as he stalked their laughing forms through the moonless night. His aim had been horrid, for all that his foes had been unnerved by shots fired out of the inky darkness. He had then learned to turn furious glee to icy death, aim stilling, breath slowing, squeezing the trigger of his gun like the darkest of lovers, exhilarating in the crack of hammer coming down, the gun kicking, bullets flying where he willed it that awful night, just as it did now.

The hairy beast of a foot soldier closing in on him blinked, eyes widening, futilely raising a hand to feel for the top of his skull suddenly gone in a spray of blood and brain, before collapsing in death.

Solena's eye widened, fear touching for the first time her brilliant eyes. "No. There is no way you could know Shadowmind! You are weak. Untrained. Ripe chattel fit for our consumption and nothing more!"

But Val was no longer listening, having figured out how to tune out the dark murmurs of Solena's awful slithering laughter, echoing still. For whispers of madness could not harm shadow, could not harm the absence of anything, thoughts carefully blank. He was simply embracing the moment, and only the moment. When his hand moved as if of its own accord, lining up with the second henchman gazing down at his friend with a dark curse before aiming his desert eagle at him, Val felt the gun kick in his hand as if a sentient thing. He felt Death's black fury encase him in bitterest armor as the second mercenary collapsed in a spray of blood, both hands clawing at his throat as the ceiling directly above him was flash painted arterial red.

Solena gasped, stumbling back as crimson droplets spattered her exquisite features.

"Freeze, or I shoot you dead." Words dark as oblivion slipped from Val's lips, his eyes refusing to meet her own.

"How dare you threaten me!" Solena hissed, beautiful face twisting into an ugly snarl. "Drop your vile weapon and kneel, worm!"

Val groaned as a dark wave of horror and despair washed over him, hideous waves of guilt and sorrow roaring through him in a whirlwind of regret and self-loathing. He sobbed as the icy shell of cold resolve he hid his soul within began to crack and bleed, before the searing pain of scarred flesh tearing at the sudden abuse as he fell to his knees jolted him out of that hideous despair.

Val cried out, tears streaming down his face even as bitter resolve settled about him like blackest armor once more, gazing at his enemies with a fury unlike anything he had known before.

These monsters were the reason why Julia was missing, all her sweet dreams and innocence perhaps already replaced by hideous shame and horror. Val was no stranger to war-torn nations. He knew what happened to girls when the veneer of civility, innocence, and hope was stripped away from families and cultures entire.

Something in his eyes, perhaps. Solena gasped, stumbling back as Val curled his lips, his gun barrel cracking with a sharp retort only feet away from the imperious woman. Solena blinked in surprise as Yusef screamed, blood splashing his face as his right hand exploded in blood and bone.

And the gun he had been slyly reaching for was now forever out of his reach.

Yuself's piteous wails were an awful cacophony that further served to drown out the subtle susurrations of Solena's disembodied dark laughter, a sentient specter washing over them still.

"You actually shot him!" Solena's eyes widened with disbelief. "Who do you really serve, maggot? To which House have you sworn fealty? Which Highlord do you call master? There is no way you could resist me, were you of mundus alone!"

No place for recriminations or regret. These monsters were preparing to kidnap thirty US citizens under flimsiest pretext. It didn't matter Val's limitations, or the charges that would soon leave him in jail for life as angry functionaries sought for the most convenient scapegoat, or how he would rot in his cell for years to come.

Right now he was death, and he would see this through.

He reached for his cell phone and hit record. "I have proof of your intentions to trap thirty citizens in indentured servitude under false pretext. Yusef made it clear they were destined for Uzbekistan, a nation free of any US extradition treaty. This isn't the first time you've used this ruse, is it, Solena? You and your shadow companies, carefully profiling and herding lonely gamers with no family ties to speak of, no one to come asking for them, to fight for them, during the time it takes you to hustle all of your victims overseas, with these pathetic excuses for employment contracts the only shield you feel you need to kidnap a person who lacks strong family ties. But you misstepped, Solena Petrova, if that is even your real name. Not everyone you profiled is a loner. Some have families that miss their children very much indeed." His voice rang out like an accusation, even as he did his best to avoid her gaze like he would a serpent's bite.

"Where is Julia Petrovsky?"

She hissed and lurched back, delicate nostrils flaring.

"Ah, I see it rings a bell. One of your victims from your last roundup. Has she already been shipped out? Is Uzbekistan really her destination?" Heart hammering, he forced himself to say it, needing to see the reaction, this time locking gazes with her. "She's a beautiful girl. Innocent, sweet, a vision of grace that could melt the coldest man's heart. Tell me she's not destined for a brothel in Russia? Saudi Arabia? A rich patron looking for pristine flesh?"

For all that the blood roared in his ears, her growing smirk left him both relieved and more worried than ever.

"Is that what you think, chattel? That we would go to all this trouble for simple flesh? Fool! There are scores of worlds with desperate serfs and slaves beyond count to fulfill our every dark desire!" Her lips curled in a truly vicious smile. "So many soul-fried pieces of slag for a boar to spill his seed into, and their get unlikely to be any more illuminated than they! No, worm. Simple flesh for rutting is beneath our needs, our purpose." Sensual lips curled upwards into the most awful of smiles. "Julia Petrovsky. Yes, I remember her name, worm. She was one of the special ones, deserving of more than simply being put into a brain vat and shipped back. Would you like to see her?"

Val blinked into the sudden silence, Solena's offer registering only as he gazed at the monitor tilted at an angle that only he could see, his phone now streaming directly to the bluetooth compatible stick drive built for just such an operation as this, Yusef having unwittingly left open channels through their firewall, Val now streaming everything live to the horrified ears and eyes of Colonel Petrovsky presently looking back at Val, no doubt alerted the moment Val had started uploading and broadcasting through the firewall. The Colonel's tormented gaze spoke volumes, though he wisely said not a word.

Val found himself nodding his head, gaze once more on Solena. "I can see her?"

Sensual lips bubbled in laughter, discordant counterpoint to Yusef's awful moans as he writhed amongst the bodies of the men Val had shot dead, trembling with shock as he held his mangled hand, blood streaming from the grizzly mess that remained.

"Yes, Valor Hunter. You can see her. In fact, you can join her." Val was caught off guard when she dipped her head, as if in grudging approval of what he had done. "You have a strong mind indeed, Valor Hunter, and as much as you have proven yourself a thorn, you have proven yourself as well." She smirked. "I have been assured that your pathetic technologies are unable to penetrate the wards my men have placed in effect, men whose minds were free of all guile. So put down your toy gun, Val, and come with me."

Val swallowed, horrified and amazed by what he was hearing, discretely turning off the monitor so the colonel's face disappeared, for all that he still heard and saw everything Val showed with his phone. "Yes, I think, I think I will come with you. I am confused though, you said we are unable to penetrate your... wards?"

Solena gave a contemptuous sniff. "This pathetic excuse for technology. The only thing the physics of your realm is conducive to is spying. Spying on your neighbors, your friends, odd permutations of radiation echoing still with the remnants of your realm's creation, yes? It is free of the primal fields that allow for true technology, Valor, electromagnetism being the least of them. In fact, one could argue that you're hardly alive at all, your realm lacking the fields of existence that allow for true quantization of body and soul." Her laughter was taunting. "And that is why, for all that you can almost fathom your own creation, your entire civilization will still die with a whimper. Weak fools who can never savor true power, unable to harness the locked potentials and potencies of all the souls that came before."

Val blinked, getting the oddest tingle. "Are you seriously saying what I think you're saying?"

Solena's laughter was low, throaty. "Ah, at last I can peer into the desperate cracks of your mind. What you secretly yearn for. Hunger for. As do all those even the least bit worthy. Yes, Valor Hunter. In the primal realms where true civilizations flourish, the dreams of earlier societies are not lost. The will, the force, the fury, of all those who came before is more than the meaningless release of potential energy. The things you do, the wonders you create, the foes you kill matter! As you blossom in power, feeding upon the passions and dreams of those to fall before you, heightening your power as if you had made years' worth of growth in an instant!"

Val's throat was dry, his heart now hammering with wonder and horror.

"In other words, in your realm... you level up."

Her eyes twinkled with darkest mirth, her face now as soft and sensual as an angel's, platinum blond hair glowing as if caressed by golden shafts of light in a woodland glade. "Exactly, Val, and now that I know what you yearn for, what you desire, I don't think you will be so hard to control, after all."

She curled one elegantly filed fingernail the color of blood and smiled. "Come hither, child. For you are a ripe fruit that begs to be plucked, and I shall savor your juices like no other."

Without another word she turned on her shiny black boots and exited the room, Val doing nothing to stop her, following just behind, allowing the door to shut on the blood-spattered room still resonating with Yusef's desperate moans, as if leaving that chapter of his life behind for good.

7

As if in a daze, gun lowered, Val followed just behind the woman whose presence had magnified as she moved with the sensual grace of a goddess, and never had Val hungered for anyone as much as he did the lithe seductress before him, turning behind only occasionally to flash a teasing smile his way.

Strangely, none of the powerfully built mercenaries poorly disguised in suits sought to tackle him, for all that his gun was lowered and he clearly in a daze. He did not even protest when one man gently grabbed the handles behind him and began rolling him at a steady pace, not even blinking when the gun was removed from lax fingers.

Only his tricky left hand discretely held his phone, recording still, that thought carefully concealed in the deep dark shadows of his mind as he made the way back the way he came. All traces of the struggle by the back door were now gone without a trace.

Back into the cafeteria where they had made their pitch, there was no trace anyone had even been there that day. The tables were now completely bare, lacking even the burgundy tablecloths that had given the room a touch of elegance already cleared away. They moved forward without pause, a smiling Solena opening the double doors Val had seen all the other prospective testers funnel through like sheep to the slaughter.

A quiet part of Val's mind was terrified, even as so much of him smiled under Solena's spell. But he had allowed himself to embrace the seduction, knowing this was his best chance of discovering Julia's location. Besides, what if Solena's mad ramblings were more than just outrageous delusion or simple subterfuge? After all, what gamer wouldn't want to discover hidden worlds filled with magic and wonder? Perfect bait.

But what if it were somehow all true? Only someone like him, open-minded enough to accept the possibility of it, might have a chance of saving Julia.

Is it time to slip free?

Not yet.

Val found himself being led past empty chairs facing a film depicting a fantastic scene of fully mechanized troops springing from their carrier and vaulting upon a flower-strewn field that had become a massive field of battle, exchanging laser fire with hideous tentacled beasts before engaging in melee battles with titanic blades and force-shields as dragons soared above, like a clip from the wildest of adventure films, playing for an audience long gone.

Val said not a word on it as Solena led him deeper into her layer, and now Val heard the distinctive sound of medical equipment as a final door was opened.

Val squinted as bright blue light washed over him, Solena taking a deep, relieved breath, flexing her fingers and nodding, and somehow Val was certain she had just gotten stronger. She suddenly seemed more vibrant. More... real, somehow. As if the rest of them were mere NPCs in a universe that now starred her alone.

It was a chilling thought.

Val kept his mind utterly blank as Solena caught his gaze, favoring him with a predatory smile. She bent down, powerful fingers gently slipping through his hair as crimson lips caressed his ear. "Soon you will be mine, Valor Hunter. How sweet it will be, feasting upon the pleasures of your flesh, the sweet bounty of your soul. I will harness your Psions, and you give them to me unstintingly, feeling nothing but rapture in utter submission."

Val trembled and shivered at her touch, near swooning, unable to help himself as her haunting, hypnotic laughter washed over him.

"Ah, Val. It is true what they say. The most worthy prey always puts up the best fight. I am glad you chose to fight me, Val, so I may taste your strength, even now."

"Where is Julia?" he whispered, even as Solena's hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt, her hot lips touching, tasting his flesh, and he could sense her sharp arousal, for all that she had condemned simple pleasures of the flesh but minutes before.

She looked up at him, eyes dilated, a breathy chuckle sending fresh shivers down Val's spine. "I can taste how sweet your potential is, Val," she whispered, caressing his ear once more. "Perhaps I will find other uses for you than the potency of your mind. Uses I know you hunger for, even now." Her smile turned wicked. "But you will not find serving me to be an easy task, my prize. You shall writhe in torment even as you cry out in ecstasy. For what is pleasure without the sweet spice of pain?"

Shiny white teeth bit his ear. Hard. He hissed, jolted back into focus even as Solena chuckled, caressing his cheeks before standing tall and proud once more.

"Ah, but of course you want to know where your friends are, and I promised to take you to them." She turned, exchanging a glance and nod with one of her lackeys. "And now that we have finished wiping away all traces of our presence here, I do think it is time to view the main attraction, don't you?"

And then Val saw it, his mind shuddering in horror even as he sat in an entranced stupor, catching sight of Hank, bruised, battered, much the worse for wear, lying strapped to a table, glaring at the disturbingly pale-faced individual decked in a surgeon's gown holding what looked to be a modified VR helm in his too long fingers, gently putting it on the struggling Hank's head.

The powerfully built Marine stiffened, and began to twitch and shudder before his spasms eased, all tension melting away from his muscles that had been straining but seconds before. There appeared to be a monitor attached to cables interfacing between helm and body, the henchman nodding his shiny dome several times before turning to face Solena, and Val shuddered even in his stupor.

The surgeon, or thing pretending to be a surgeon, hardly looked human, with cyber optics glowing like embers for eyes, a shiny chrome cap covering his forehead with multiple nodules that looked optimized for ports of various sorts, and Val caught shiny flashes of chrome between the folds of the gown. Val blinked, awed and horrified in equal measure, forced to finally confront the possibility that Solena's seductive madness might be based on nothing less than the truth.

"The patient is stabilized." The cyborg turned to gaze carefully at the monitor. "Psion prevalence is at minimum acceptable levels. The patient has now achieved a primary receptive state."

Solena frowned before giving the faintest of nods. "He is worthless for our primary purpose, but he shows the use of our programs. Good. Leave him with the other serfs and tell the mercenaries to prepare for departure."

Val forced himself to speak. "What will happen to them?"

She turned to him, stroking his cheeks once more. "Oh, no need to worry about the discards, my pet. They are useful in their own way. We will be shipping them where they will serve out their lifelong contracts doing what they've always hungered to do, serving their betters in glorious battle as summoned spirits and matrices, glorying as their souls finally attain significance and meaning, for all that their bodies must remain here in mundus."

Val blinked. "Are you saying they will be playing Endless after all?"

Solena chuckled. "Endless? Ah yes, that name suits our realm as well as any other. Endless adventure and battles indeed, even as their shells are tended to in Uzbekistan. And yes, my prize, they will be cared for quite diligently in our sanitarium, so their bodies may thrive for as long as possible before eventually withering and dying, as everyone does in this baron corner of existence. But their spirits will get the chance for glory, and the rich data we mine will eventually, one day, allow us to summon millions of spirits to fight for our cause, all in the guise of adventure."

She flashed a dark smile. "So many worlds our domain encompasses, yet too many suffer only the lightest of leashes, for all that they hold the richest of prizes. No longer! Soon even those worlds richest in artifacts and mana will be forced to bend at the knee, pretexts of trade and civility no longer necessary once we have a legion of spirit knights able to wipe out their wildmages in a single strike! Of course, those humans worthy of being reforged into spirit vessels might find their lives disrupted, yet they will hardly care in the end. We will send them our VR helms for free! All they need is the barest hovel with food enough to sustain them, and praise, glory, and privileges will be their rich rewards for a job well done. After all, we want our slaves to embrace their servitude with fanatic zeal!"

The room filled with Solena's golden laughter as she stroked Val's neck. He shuddered with something terribly close to ecstasy at her touch.

"But that's not the fate for a chosen few, my dear Val." Soft whispers caressing his ear. "You, dear little Peter, Julia, and those other worthy souls we have collected will gain the singular honor of serving the needs of Highlords directly. And unless your cyber implants are attuned as the good doctor's is, Psion potential is the only bridge that will let you cross the gap between realms. Without it? Your precious laws of conservation will be rendered nul and void as you cease to exist in all universes."

Solena chuckled throatily, stroking his head like a favored pet. "How exciting it was to taste your hot fury, your delicious resistance for entire minutes before you finally surrendered, as any good slave or lover must. And you will find, my pet, that the virtues of absolute submission are sweet indeed." Soft words that tickled his ears, sending him near swooning as her hot breath caressed him. "Prepare yourself, Valor, for a life of endless bliss, spiked only with sweetest pain you shall receive from serving me, and me alone."

Val! Panicked words piercing the fog, an endless distance away. I can't hold on for much longer!

Soon.

Solena frowned, then. "Your pathetic, unsightly legs will be regrown, of course, for I doubt even you have the power to reforge yourself during the transition. I think I will keep your beautiful scar, though. A mark of the warrior you once were."

She turned to the doctor, speaking in a harsh clipped tongue that seemed to convey a wealth of ideas as succinctly as possible. Val blinked, realizing that truth even in his stupor, for all that he had only the foggiest notion of what they were saying.

Solena smiled. "Come, Val. It is time to gather the harvest and let our serfs do as they must." Solena led them to the far side of the massive chamber, brilliant lights at odd angles serving almost as barriers, cordoning off areas of the chamber, a strange use he had never even fathomed before, hitting him all the harder as he sat in his wheelchair in a dazed stupor, rolled at last before an assembly of near a dozen boys and girls wearing skintight suits and expressions of vacant-eyed bliss.

Their heads had been completely shaved with bloody bandages wrapped around their skulls. Their pupils were fully dilated, and a few blinked tears of crimson even as they smiled.

Val felt his heart hammer in his chest, the blissful fog he strode within blown away to reveal the stormy seas of nightmare even as his trembling hand hidden in the tales of his shirt pointed his phone at what had caught his eye, hoping against hope that the boosted signal would actually be received by the stick in a computer room even now covered in blood.

Julia Petrovsky. Her lithe, cheerleader's frame was showcased by the skintight outfit she wore. Her beautiful auburn locks had been shorn free, her once expressive features now void of all thought, shiny chrome peeking from several of the bandages now wrapped around her skull. He had never before seen her in the flesh, and she looked nothing like the dolled up cosplay pictures she would occasionally send, yet Val recognized perfectly the beautiful green eyes that had teased him in the strange dream he had.

He blinked and shuddered, suddenly certain that somewhere deep behind those beautiful eyes she was lost to rapturous dreams and waking nightmares he couldn't begin to fathom, a single drop of blood flowing down her cheek.

For the barest instant Val thought she had recognized him. Then the moment was gone.

Solena uttered a single guttural command to the cyborg who dipped his head before pulling out a silver filament from a nodule at the base of his spine, then jacking it into what appeared to be a strange amalgamation of crystal and obsidian.

Val blinked, noting the various monitors flickering strange blue symbols on black screens had all gone white as the light barriers dividing the rooms suddenly turned off, all eyes drawn to the massive arch in the center of the chamber made of similar material to the obelisk the 'doctor' was currently attached to.

He smelled ozone as the air crackled and flashed with brilliant blue light, and the portal suddenly came alive even as the ground and air vibrated with a strange hum that seemed to resonate with itself, an eerie sensation that left Val chilled to the quick. He hissed at a sudden crackle, eyes darting down at the smell of plastic and solder, smoke emitting from his cell phone.

A single soft chuckle that caressed his spine. "I'm afraid, dearest Val, that all technology failing to take into account higher fields has just been rendered completely... inert." Her grin turned wicked as she nodded at one of the startled looking mercenaries shuffling about.

"Yuri. Has everything been taken care of?"

The man gave a curt nod. "Yes, mistress. All your new... employees are now in transit for the ship." He smirked. "That Marine was no trouble at all, once you put that helmet on his head."

"And did you recognize the driver? The handler?"

He gave a hesitant nod. "I recognize them, but I cannot vouch for them, since they are not part of my unit."

"And what is Yusef's status?"

The rough shaven mercenary glared at Val. "He's dead, mistress. Shock and blood loss. Most of his hand was blown clean off. We suspect bone fragments tore open an artery as well. He expired before we could bring him to your doctor." Yuri spat, nostrils flaring with hate. "Your crippled little pet managed to kill four of my men."

"Oh yes," Solena purred, stroking Val's spine. "He is a rare treasure. Now assemble your men, all of them here. It is time for payment, and by all means, come armed. What is a relationship without trust, after all?"

Yuri curled one cracked lip in a cold grin. "Do you have the gold?"

Solena nodded. "More than enough to last you for the rest of your life."

The mercenary blinked but nodded, giving a sharp whistle. Ten hard-eyed mercenaries of Slavic decent lined up within seconds, half carrying Tavor TAR-21's, and Val couldn't help nodding in approval. Compact, ergonomic, their bullpup design made them ideal for hiding under coats and use in close quarters, yet they were surprisingly accurate for their size, though not quite so accurate at distance as the M16.

All of them gave Solena a disciplined salute. Yuri smiled, the show of respect no doubt planned.

Val frowned even through the fog he felt, knowing something wasn't right, yet another wild card in the chaotic mix in play. Yuri's stare made it clear that Val wasn't long for this world, if the mercenary had his way.

Solena smiled. "Deference to your betters is good, Yuri. Hired specialists who honor their contracts will always be valued more than serfs, especially when they show proper respect."

Yuri grinned back. "Show me my gold, Mistress Solena, and you will get all the respect you could want."

Solena dipped her head. "Of course." She gestured to an exotic looking multisided vessel. Val blinked and rubbed his eyes, oddly sure there were more angles to that container than was normal. Yuri frowned as well, but that didn't stop him from popping the lid, chuckling softly at the treasure gleaming inside.

Yuri crowed in triumph, pulling out actual gold bricks, as if he had broken into Fort Knox. "My Lady Solena, you have truly given my men a fortune, and honored your word to us." His men gasped and crowded close, admiring the gold.

Solena's graceful smile didn't reach her cold gaze. "So I have fulfilled my end of our agreement?"

Yuri's grin only widened as he pulled out a wicked looking double-edged knife; compact, razor sharp, perfect for slamming into kidneys or tearing out wrists or throats. It was identical to the one Val had lifted off the first man who had underestimated him that day, discretely tucked even now between wheelchair and thigh. Yuri put his blade to better use than Val had, deliberately cutting a jagged groove into not one but several bullion bars, his men whistling their approval as the soft gold parted under the grooving cut of the knife. "It's pure," Yuri said. "Proving you to be wealthy, honorable, and a fool."

Val blinked as the atmosphere gelled. Five Tavors and an equal number of Desert Eagles were now aimed at Solena and the doctor's heads.

The cyborg's ocular implants dilated. Mistress?

Val felt his heart start to race, an odd roaring in his ears as Solena's seductive fog was burned away, clear and focused once more, girding himself to spring from his chair, knowing it was a futile gesture as several weapons suddenly turned his way.

So this is it, he thought to himself, even as death gazed at him from Yuri's snarl.

Strangely, Solena didn't seen upset at all, even as her hands slipped free what looked to Val like nothing so much as a longsword hilt, for all that there was no blade and only a minimal circular crossguard. She smiled, fearless into Yuri's hot gaze. "Ah. So that's how it is. Your guns are not some odd custom or gesture. Instead you fully intend on breaching our contract? Why, one must ask, when you have already fulfilled your end of the bargain?"

Yuri barked an odd laugh. "It is a gamble, and a man's word is worth his weight in gold." His grin was wicked, filled with hungry avarice. "And gold you have paid me, far more than mercenaries like us might make in a lifetime. You have made me enough to retire, and I should thank you! But then I asked myself, why, Yuri, must I settle for a quiet little home in the provinces, when the opportunity is there to retire filthy stinking rich, with a mansion and a score of women desperate for my largess!" He shrugged. "Honor? Honor is a tool for the powerless to control those more capable. For bureaucrats to control warriors." He nodded to his men. "To me, they are like brothers. Tighter than any contract."

He then pointed his gun at the fantastic array of technology and wonder all around him. "This technology here? Incredible! The man who controlled this would be Bill Gates, no?" He smirked. "I am no Bill Gates. But I do have friends with friends in high places, and one friend in particular has made it quite clear that a certain powerful government would pay me billions, no questions asked, and immunity for all past crimes, should I bring them this treasure. So that, Lady Solena, is what I am going to do."

Yuri chuckled darkly. "You should be thankful. They want you and your Frankensteinien doctor alive and unharmed. And if you do what they tell you, you will find yourself rich with a palace of your own, once our country becomes a world power! They will even let you keep your slaves as well. You will just call them 'assistants' to keep the bureaucrats happy."

Solena's melodious laughter washed over all assembled. "Well done, Yuri, truly devious. Had you been dealing with the pathetic pawns that make up this dying realm, you might actually have succeeded. I suppose I should salute you. Perhaps even feat you as a dark knight, worthy of blackest honors. But for that, I would need a sword, wouldn't I?"

Yuri smirked then gasped.

The air crackled and Val felt a sudden wave of force jolt through him, his eyes snapping wide with wonder and awe.

A crackling line of darkness that somehow managed to glow tore free of the hilt of Solena's blade. She frowned before at last giving a satisfied nod, smiling at the cyborg. "Very good, Doctor. The proper forces and fields are in alignment once more. And growing ever stronger, just as we had surmised they would."

Yuri's eyes widened and he snarled, all bonhomie gone. "Put down the toy, witch woman, and surrender. Or I will shoot you dead!"

Solena's eyes shown with brilliant blue fire as she turned her gaze to the mercenary captain. Her soft lips parted in a warrior's grin as her left hand sparkled, a shimmering distortion two feet in diameter now centered on her tightly gripped left had. Val frowned, realizing that the air distortion was minimal. It was more like he could somehow feel the disk of force centered on her tightly clenched fist as she slid into a fencer's pose. All bonhomie was gone when next she spoke.

"You have no idea of the honor you have been given, only to squander it so foolishly. You have broken contract and covenant. Your crimes have been revealed. No Highlord has compelled you. No talents have been used upon you without your consent. You have betrayed the Mercenary's Oath, and your life is forfeit. It is time to die, Yuri. I shall savor the taste of your soul."

Yuri's eyes widened in sudden alarm, he began to back away, gun aimed at her legs. "Shoot them in the legs," he curtly demanded his men, before blinking in disbelief at the series of dry clicks where the loud crack of gunfire would be expected. "What the hell did you..."

The loud crackle of alien energies ripped through the air. The stink of ozone and a flash of black light and Yuri stumbled back, a fountain of blood where his head should have been, trembling upright for an endless moment before the headless corpse collapsed in a pool of blood, Yuri's head tumbling through the air, and Val could see his eyes widening with impossible surprise, perhaps comprehending all he had lost in that horrific moment as he plopped right into the now blood-slicked container of solid gold bullion. Poetic irony of the darkest sort.

Solena danced through the furious, terrified men like a maiden of death, spinning about in deadly pirouettes, laughing in the face of men furiously squeezing gun triggers to no effect before her blade tore through them, effortlessly cleaving through flesh and bone with no more effort and to the same effect as Val had once swung swords through melons, only now it was the coppery tang of blood crawling up the back of his throat and the smell of ozone crackling through the air.

Within moments, the room was filled with cleaved limbs and furiously blinking heads, the floor now slick with gore. The blood and horror affected Solena's movements not in the least as she weaved and spun, laughing still as she dodged every desperate punch and swing with malfunctioning gun or knife, parrying at least one thrust with her shimmering shield before countering with a vicious backhand blow that cleaved her screaming foe in half as effortlessly as Val had once sliced his saber through the air.

As horrific as the scene of gore and death was, a part of Val's analytical mind couldn't help but appreciate how the crackling blade of midnight hue still had some sort of mass to it, or force that mirrored mass. For Solena did not flick it about like a blade of light, or the slimmest of fencing epee's. Rather she swung it in tightly controlled, circular arcs using wrist and forearm and occasionally from the shoulder, much as one might use an arming sword, saber, or katana. Yet the bodies desperately struggling to escape her wrath had no effect at all on the passage of her deadly blade, even their guns proving worthless, steel cleaved through as effortlessly as the soldiers so desperately holding them.

A span of mere seconds that felt like endless minutes, and the room was utterly still, save for Solena's ripe chest expanding with each heaving breath, licking a drop of blood off her fingers, ruby red lips curving in a glorious smile. She gave a condescending shake of her head; cold, professional eyes carefully making sure no mercenary was moving, or even capable of moving, though Val knew already that her assault had left no survivors, every single man either headless, or cleaved in twain.

She then turned to Val, her smile only growing, leaning over to kiss the top of his head, stroking his sweaty hair in passing. "And that, my pet, is what happens to those who dare to cross a Highlord." She gave a satisfied nod, pleased, it seemed, to see her cyborg assistant had resumed his work, not phased at all by the gore and dismembered body parts all around. Nor did the collection of vacant-eyed captives seem bothered in the least, lost in their own blissful paradise or nightmare, Julia among them, completely unfazed even though more than a few were now covered in sprays of crimson, a sharp contrast to their otherwise pristine white skintight outfits.

Val allowed himself to embrace his odd stupor once more, to dip his psyche into that seductive trance, energies about Solena stronger, more terrible even than when she had first used her strange gifts to compel him back in the computer room. Yet some part of him stood ready, however futile that might be.

Shadowmind Rank 2 Achieved.- To deceive even in the throws of submission is but one way of cloaking your true self.

Val shivered, pushing the odd, skittering thought away.

Solena, practically bouncing on her toes, flounced up to the container filled with gold, and poor Yuri's head. Val shivered in horror as Solena whispered odd words that seemed to crackle through the air, and Yuri's eyes suddenly opened. Poor Yuri, who had already stilled with death was brought to life once more, even as his eyes rolled in unspeakable torment.

Solenal smiled, forcing his eyes to meet her own.

"Poor, foolish Yuri. To have come so close to earning a truly grand prize, only to throw it away with treachery at the bitter end. It is a poetic justice, I think. Oh, I knew you were selling secrets. I could taste that deception in your mind. A mind I was perfectly willing to let go, foolish and gullible, rich in treasure and prestige, had you held back on your mad desires, taken the gold and left." Her gaze hardened. "For one avaricious fool is not reason enough for me to betray a sacred oath that has allowed Highlords to make use of mercenaries and specialists no matter their alliance or allegiance, so long as they serve us honorably and well, so long as we pay them in credits or gold!"

She exchanged glances with the doctor, who nodded, his cybernetic eyes flashing crimson to some unspoken query. "Your betrayal has been duly documented. No agent can ever say I employed in poor faith." Her smile was all teeth. "Do you finally understand the depths of your folly? You have lost everything. Everything you could have ever hoped to have or be, your brain shriveling to oblivion even now. You live on only because I wish it. So that you may eternally taste the bitter fruits of your own folly. YOU did this to yourself, Yuri, and you have only yourself to blame. Blink once if you understand."

And blink he did. Desperately, frantically, as if hoping for some final surcease, some end to the hideous agony Val sensed screaming forth from his desperate, dying, drowning mind.

Solena nodded once, gazing back at the cyborg. "It is time, Doctor," she said, gazing at a still madly blinking Yuri with the awfullest of smiles. "Bring me the vessel."

The cyborg bowed and what looked to be an oblong glass container of clear glass or crystal was presented, filled with yellow-green bubbling slime radiating a constant stream of something that left Val's nerve endings itching with an odd tingle, much as he had felt close to various electrical experiments in science class, a lifetime ago.

It was then that Val noted the heads bobbing inside.

All of them possessing bloodshot eyes rolling in hideous pain, faces twitching and writhing, mouthing silent screams.

Agony without end.

"Welcome to your new home, Yuri." With that, Solena smiled wide into the horrified face she held, before dropping him unceremoniously into the vat, gazing with pleased satisfaction as the heads bobbed about, Yuri's agonized rictus and frantic ocular gyrations only heightening, and somehow Val could sense the hideous forces now coursing through Yuri, keeping him alive and in a state beyond the simple concept of pain. His every severed nerve now screamed a concert of unending torment, thanks to the unholy energies crackling through that crystalline vat.

Psionic Perception Rank 1 Achieved - Taste the pain! Just be glad you're not Yuri.

Arcane Perception Rank 1 Achieved - Synergism between Arcane and Psion fields sensed. It's not easy keeping 'a head' of your competition!

Solena then turned to Val, chilling smile still in place. "Some might consider it a waste of Elementium and energy, but I find a particular satisfaction in being able to gaze at my enemies writhing and suffering for eternity." She then winked. "It's also a wonderful prize to have on display alongside their confessions when entering negotiations with agents for the use of their tools. It helps to keep things... honest."

She waved languid fingers in a come hither gesture. "And now it is your turn, my delectable prize. Heed my command, pet. The pain you feel is nothing. Now stand and approach the doctor even now preparing my chattel to be gated through. He will strip you and put on your slimsuit, and you will allow him to do so. Once your chrome plate is in place, I promise you, my prize, you will know only bliss and sweetest agony from this day forward."

Val felt his heart lurch in his chest, even as he forced himself to rise, showing no sign of the pain he felt, or how odd he found it to hear what almost sounded like tenderness from the vision of beauty and death gazing at him so intently.

The screams of every man who had died the final night he saw action roared in his skull as he moved tormented legs as freely as he had since the day they had been kissed by flame.

"Vo ru tak?" (Are the coordinates set?)

"Aye ko tak." (They will be soon.)

Val shivered as words formerly incomprehensible seemed to spear his mind, somehow sensing the heart of Solena and the doctor's conversation, words and their meanings both then lodging in his brain.

Cypher Rank 1 achieved. - It's about time you finally listened!

Ignoring the strange whispers in his mind, he focused on what mattered. Julia, bleeding tears as she gazed at the world with the most blissful of smiles, closest to the gate. Val stole a glance Solena's way, leaving his mind carefully blank, looking both within and outside himself, his own body a piece he directed and withdrew from, judging the moment, closing on the doctor fiddling with an odd wrist brace on the skinsuit Val was but seconds from donning, the same as that worn by everyone else.

Now!

A shout, a roar, stillness that was noise, acting in a motion that was both premeditated yet without thought, a stealth missile striking where no radar could pick up his signal.

Not until it was too late.

"Valor? Stop this instant! I command it!"

A wave of terrible will and fury roaring through the chamber, all the collected boys and girls freezing up in sympathetic obedience. Yet the voice could not touch emptiness, the odd shadow flowing towards the porthole crackling an eldritch violet hue. The closest girl gasped once as she was suddenly in the grip of nothing at all, and Val pulled them both through.

8

Endless blackness, as if lost in all the infinities of space. Julia, who he held so tightly, slipping from his grasp in directions he couldn't even begin to fathom.

Flashes of color, all the hues of the rainbow, every color he had ever seen, and more, so many more. The colors of magic, of possibility, the endless colors that true gold had, elements and forces he had no name for, couldn't even comprehend, washing over and through him, stretching him in ways that would have left him screaming in endless agony, unimaginable ecstasy, if he even had lungs with which to scream.

But he had nothing.

He was nothing.

Just a spark, a single flicker of dying possibility pressing against an impossibly tight fabric, squeezing him against it, crushing him like a trillion trillion other potential particles just on the cusp of existence, about to be forced into white nothingness for eternity.

He screamed his defiance, his determination, his desperately held hope to exist, to live, to rescue his friend... just to be. Just to exist. Just to take a deep breath and keep on breathing, keep on feeling, experiencing, existing, for so long as he could.

And he was definitely a he.

His sex defined.

Name.

He blinked eyes not yet formed, barely able to comprehend the question.

What is your name?

"Val, Valor Hunter," he said into the blinding light, to that voice that sounded so much like his own.

Endless silence. If you would be, think of all that you have been, all that you are.

Somehow, Val realized that his very existence hinged upon willing his own reality, feeling his own inner self, and projecting it. Much to his surprise, after a few seconds of desperate focus, the events of the day, the year before, and all the days he could remember somehow swelled inside him.

He shivered as symbols formed before him. To say he saw them would be a trick of perception. It was more like he felt those symbols blossoming inside him. Quantified metaphors for his own ephemeral state of being.

Strength / Vitality / Finesse / Quickness / Perception / Scholarship / Willpower / Charisma / Luck

It occurred to him in that moment that perhaps this wasn't mimicking any game he had ever played. Perhaps it was the very potency of this universe, its extra fields of reality that were somehow bleeding into the 'vacuum' of lesser dimensions like his own, bringing order and advancement, at least in symbolic form, into a universe that had none.

He was struck by another wave of horrific dizziness, spinning in directions undefinable and strange. Desperately he focused himself, somehow realizing that he must project himself into that metaphor if he was to have any hope of survival at all.

Valor Hunter

Human

Strength 12 (Your years of rigorous training have left you more muscular than 74% of men your age. Many professional athletes are far more powerfully built, but your frame is compact and you haven't fried your testicles with steroids.)

Vitality 13 (Genetics and the rigors of combat have allowed you to pull through where lesser men would have succumbed to their injuries. The agony on Earth you already experienced exceeds what a weaker man would have felt before death claimed him at last. Your vitality exceeds 84% of mundanes)

Finesse 13 (You're good at feeling out your opponent's weaknesses in the bind, pivoting with his shifts in balance. Your balance is excellent, and you are a good marksman, though no sniper. Your natural finesse exceeds 84% of mundanes. Of course, you still can't play the piano for shit, but you knew that already.)

Val felt strangely chilled at the level of snark he was hearing from what he could only guess was existence itself as he fought for the right to his own being. Or perhaps it was just an echo of his own messed up psyche. So be it, as long as he had a chance to live.

Quickness 16 (Better quick than dead. Lightning reflexes. More than out-finessing your opponent, for you it is the speed of your blade, reacting to your friends' tells, darting away from their swings before lashing out with your own, that lets you win your matches. And nothing helps a soldier survive the heat of engagement more than shooting first and asking questions later. After all, who can contradict your version of events if everyone else is dead? Your trained reaction time beats 98% of mundanes.)

Perception 16 (Danger sense, combat intuition, seeing the shitstorm brewing, spotting work contracts disguised as release forms when you're the farthest thing from a lawyer. Spotting that telltale flicker of light and shade that screams 'sniper!' and ducking before your head gets blown clean off, as happened to the man next to you more than once. Your perception rocks, beating 98% of the poor sods who never see death coming. Too bad the same can't be said for your common sense, letting yourself get roped into black-ops there could be no happy ending from. Not even in the movies, Val. Get a clue.)

Val winced. Definite sarcasm.

Scholarship 10 (You're as book smart as half of all people, which really isn't saying much. You intuited answers on tests, you sure as heck didn't know it cold. Abstract concepts, unless they involved games, appealed to you as much as turd soup. And it showed. You might have great insights about a subject once you learn the basics, but it took you forever to learn the basics. Quantization brooks no fools, and you will find the learning curve in this realm very steep indeed. Better get studying, Val, and exercise that memory muscle of yours.)

Willpower 15 (Better than 95% people. Your sense of self better be strong. Right now you're just a blip of potential, struggling for all it's worth to be born. Good thing that when the fury hits, your focus is off the charts. A trillion to one chance you're even registering these quantized blips you call words. Of course you spent the last six months in a pathetic depressed funk, so we'll average you at 15, even if you're strong enough to survive in nothingness for this long.)

Charisma 9 (Better than 37% percent of people. You didn't date much, but a cheerleader on the rebound fell for you when she actually took the time to get to know you. Your only real experience at a relationship. You never bothered again once you lost her. You have many traits some might find attractive, but they would have to take the effort to get to know you, to make you a part of their lives. You're unassuming, frequently disregarded, and are quickly forgotten. Great traits in an assassin, but if your father didn't already own the business, you'd never break middle management. Only when chaos abounds do you come into your own. You're a strange one, Val. Your charisma could be so much higher. Be the master of your own tale. Have others come to you. It’s time to stop hiding in the shadows.)

Luck ?? (Don't you get it, Val? It's horrible. In the incarnation just ended, you were a burned, wrecked mess. A soldier you fought beside tried to get you all killed, your mother left you during childhood, your former principal deliberately preempted your scholarship to give to a girl he had seduced on the side, so she wouldn't sue him. She's doing quite well, by the way, as is the principal. Your former NCO is smoking hashish in an exclusive brothel somewhere, and the men who planned the execution of your entire squad are enjoying themselves immensely, as is their sponsor, who is casually considering hunting down and exterminating the rest of your crew who survived that final ambush, civilian identities compromised thanks to your wonderful NCO, and it's only a matter of time before they all end up dead. Everyone except you, because you're basically as dead as dead gets, conservation of matter itself broken when you jumped through that portal you had no business approaching, let alone jumping through. Your luck is beyond horrid.

Yet you survived half a dozen ambushes and linger on even now, in the forces and fields of quantized space. You matched wits and minds with a Highlord and managed to survive, the only man to insult her and not get cut down by a toy that looks terribly familiar, doesn't it? How many famous playwrights have been inspired by this realm, do you think? And yet you live still. Even now. Your luck is horrid. Your luck is off the charts. You can add to it later, goodness knows you'll need all the luck you can get. But what it is? You'll never know.)

A cold bolt of apprehension tore through Val, even as he exhilarated with a strange sense of coming into existence.

This was no dream.

It was as real as real could be.

His mind flashed as his own self slowly came into being, becoming aware of other aspects of himself.

Derived Traits - Directly Modifiable

Health 10xVit+Str = 142 (You're healthier than the average fool, which is a good thing, because by all rights you should be dead.)

Survival (Health+(10xlevel)+Luck) = 152+?? (Based off health and luck and level. That extra knack that lets you keep going, somehow knowing just when to dodge to escape that bullet or shrapnel or swing, even when you should be long dead. Good luck, Val. You're going to need it.)

Stamina 10xVit+1xStr=142 (Good stamina is vital in any soldier, you and your former comrades frequently hiking many miles to get to your targets.)

Mana 100 (No sentience not in tune with all fields and forces could come into being from the primordial soup. Therefore, by definition, all potentials must be open to you.)

Psion 100 (No sentience not in tune with all fields and forces could come into being from the primordial soup. Therefore, by definition, all potentials must be open to you. - Besides, didn't Solena already make it abundantly clear that you were a 'ripe fruit' begging to be plucked and savored? She sure as hell didn't fall for your looks!)

Derived Traits, Non-directly modifiable

Base Appearance 10. +0 (9 charisma) +1 (athletic) = +1 to reaction rolls. (Plastic surgery could make this much higher. But it's actually an artificial construct; any spell, even regenerative magics, and you will revert to your genetic ideal. Even without scars, your facial features are only average. However, your athletic frame is appealing to those who prefer a strong mate over a beautiful one. +1 to initial reaction rolls for above average strength, vitality, and stamina.)

Insight 17 (Profound, and unexpected. Your perception transcends the physical, and more than one teacher who had scoffed at your declarations ended up quietly asking for your sources when the war everyone thought had abated flared up once more. Too bad your scholarship is nothing remarkable. If you had a significant body of knowledge under your belt, you might be a force to be reckoned with, in any field. Instead, all your insights went into surviving as a soldier.)

Skills of Significance

Shadowmind Rank 2 (You fooled Solena, slipping free of her dominion. The other guy who tried to pull one over on her is now a decapitated head blinking away in a brain vat.)

Psionic Perception Rank 1

Arcane Perception Rank 1

Cypher Rank 1 (Thanks to your aptitude for both psionics and magic, you have a knack for figuring out the meanings behind words without committing to hundreds of hours of language study. In your case, that's a good thing.)

It was real. This was happening. All of it. It wasn't a strange dream. It wasn't a horrific nightmare. He really had matched wits with a character he never thought to see outside the movies. He really did jump through a portal leading to...this. Mad quarks of potential at the bleeding edge of reality, and even now he was a heartbeat away from slipping into the yawning chasm of oblivion, of dying probabilities that he sensed closing in on him even now.

It was a herculean effort, reaching for that brilliant light that seemed to be fading ever faster. Dizziness unlike anything he had ever experienced before washed over him, through him, as the impenetrable fabric he was pressed against enveloped him entirely.

Terrified eyes opened to milky whiteness. Val tried to breath, only to find liquid, not air entering his lungs, coughing, choking, terrified of death after struggling so furiously to live, hands pressed against something clear, solid, blinding light above... his lungs burning with panic... desperate to smash through the ice above when strange grinding filled his senses, reverberating through him as the crystalline slab atop of him finally slid off with a crash, Val lurching up, coughing, wheezing, gasping, blinking in furious disbelief and wonder at the sight before him.

9

He was in a chamber. He could see that immediately. Vast, made of what looked to be shimmering rose quartz, he nevertheless had a sense that he was underground for all that the ceiling, covered with strange, darker tinted hieroglyphics, sparkled as if from sunlight above.

Wheezing, he lowered his head, beholding four individuals staring at him with equal amazement, their expressions frozen in states between horror and awe.

The smallest was almost gnomelike with short, silver-white curls sprouting wildly from his head, a man in desperate need of a comb. With bushy black brows and a pointed nose, he wore an expression of horrified disbelief. In his hands he held a strange silvery gold contraption beeping even now. Val saw both sword and blaster strapped to his waist. The gnome wore an odd shimmering lab coat, and Val immediately wondered if it was armored somehow. He could all but sense the strange silvery strands of energy emanating from it.

The normal sized man beside him frowned, and Val couldn't help but blink in wonder, those handsome features strangely familiar. Val could all but imagine the explorer's roguish smile when he wasn't glaring. "Gregor?"

"Yes, Captain?" said the smaller man, Val shivering as the worlds rang perfectly in his ears, taking only a second to register, and then it was as if he knew them as well as the introductory Spanish vocabulary he had struggled to memorize years ago. No, more than that, he understood the strange, melodious language, some cross between French and Mandarin he was sure, as if he had known it all his life.

"All those tomes and chips you had me spring for, tracking down this ancient trove, do you remember what you had told me?"

The smaller man's brows furrowed in consternation. "That it had been lost to time."

The man smirked, eyes all but flashing with mirth, for all that he held what Val was dead certain was a blaster pointed at Val's own chest, with sword hilt and a buckler at his hip, the latter translucent as if made of tough polycarbonate. He wore what looked for all the world like a bomber jacket decked in shimmering plates of what Val could only assume was some sort of protective alloy. "This tomb here doesn't appear to be nearly as empty as it had just moments ago. Strange, that."

"Damn strange," nodded a massive man nearly seven feet tall, wearing a shimmering suit of plates, larger and thicker than his companion's, a crystalline helmet upon his skull, one grey eye peering curiously at Val, the other clearly a cybernetic implant, glowing like an angry red coal as the lens dilated slightly. In his hands he held a massive blaster that gave off a constant hum, and Val could all but feel the strange currents emanating from it. He had no doubt that it could blast him to a crisp. Val didn't even see the reason for the sword strapped to his back with such a large weapon already in his hands. "Just popped up out of that vat of Silbion, Captain."

The captain frowned. "That priceless vat of Silbion worth a vast fortune, or, in our cases, an exclusive pardon."

Val frowned at that, feeling more confused by the moment, before his eyes fell upon the final member of their group. Long silver-blond hair framed delicate, almost elfin features, and Val caught only a glimpse of the shimmering silver weave snug against generous curves, flowing down to her colt-like calves before he was arrested by her piercing violet gaze. Exotic, beautiful, and oddly familiar. He lurched in his vat, overwhelmed by the sense of pain and potency washing over him as her very psyche seemed to reach out, questing tentatively for the strands of his mind.

Instinctively he flinched his psyche as well as his body, probing tendrils of curious thought that had come so close to peering into his confused and vulnerable mind suddenly blocked by massive black walls of shadow and death, recollections of terrified eyes and desperate screams. Echoes of times long past, when he had been nothing and no one at all as he stalked prey that could, it seemed, sometimes feel the eyes burning into the back of their heads, unless those eyes belonged to a gaze as benign and impersonal as night itself. Everywhere and nowhere. In that moment all intention would be carefully and perfectly shut off, until the very instant it was time to strike and he would come to himself in a blinding flash of planning and fury before fading back into the night, once the deed was done.

The young woman whose name was Elise, once an aspiring student of strange arts who had been betrayed in the worst ways possible furrowed her brows, and Val wondered how much she had read of him, just as he had read of her before he had slammed down his darkest sense of self, tearing his gaze away from her own.

"His mind is closed, Captain."

The roguish looking treasure hunter frowned. "I know your talents, Elise. How is that even possible?"

She sighed and shook her head, right hand dancing upon the hilt of what looked to be a migration era sword strapped to the swell of her hip, Val careful not to look her in the eyes a second time. "I don't know, Sten, why don't you ask him? He understands us, I know that much, just as I know he's only existed from the time we entered this chamber."

Val himself lurched back and shuddered at those words. The way they looked at him. As if he weren't even a man, but rather just a thing. As if what had struggled so fiercely to emerge into reality, surviving the vat whose silver-blue liquids ran down his naked form even now, was not a man so much as a freak accident of creation. The frantic struggle and kidnapping he had fled from, his desperate struggle to rescue Julia, whose very soul seemed to have been pulled from his grip the moment he had jumped through, the twenty years of his action-packed and far too violent life... all of it suddenly no more real than a dream. Reflections of memories that had never been. Memories of a world that had never been.

"No," he said, his first word ever spoken. "You're wrong. I'm real, I'm as real as anyone!" He lurched to prop himself out of the vat, trembling as he tried to free himself, four pairs of dispassionate eyes leaving him as flustered and shaken as he had ever been. Now he was desperate to slide out of the vat, as if he could pull himself wholecloth into existence, becoming every bit as real as he desperately strove to be. "I did not die," he said, voice rising to a shout. "I did not die!"

A sudden lurch that turned to a slip. "Don't spill that!" cried the panicked gnome. "That vat's worth a fortune!" The strange substance Val had been immersed in left his hands slippery, his feet finding little purchase as he strove to escape the vat that he realized to his horror was actually a sarcophagus, eventually collapsing to the ground in a heap.

He hissed in sudden pain, bruised, shaken, utterly confused. -1 temporary damage to health. Val grimaced, shaking away the odd voice in his head, so strangely like his own.

The massive giant bent down. Val shrank back, before seeing the hand lowered in a gesture as old as time, the massive face gazing so fixedly into Val's own before brilliant white teeth shown not in a grimace, but rather a smile. "You look confused and green as a new recruit, kid. I don't suppose you have a name?"

Val blinked, swallowed, realizing so much rode on those words alone.

To give the truth to unknown strangers in a world not his own, with enemies who might or might not be in a position to track him down, might be the height of folly. But for some reason he couldn't quite define, he felt that now, at this metaphoric moment of his birth, nothing was more powerful than the truth. "My name is Val. Valor Hunter. Forgive me if I seem confused." He swallowed, forcing himself to say it. "Because, you see, this world... well, I don't think it's my own."

The exotic beauty gave a solemn nod. "He speaks the truth, Sten. He left his mind purposefully open, I think, so I could see it for myself. He is a babe in the water and utterly out of his depth. If we leave him here, it would be like leaving a child to die."

Sten furrowed his brow even as the giant's human eye widened in odd sympathy. "If that's the case, then how does he know our language?" Sten asked, even as Halvar - that's his name - snapped free a cloak of odd mesh and fastened it around Val's shoulders. Val nodded his sincere thanks, only then gasping and stepping back in wonder.

"Well, Valor?" Sten asked, his voice curt. "If you truly are this babe in the woods, how is it that you speak as fluently as anyone from the most cosmopolitan of worlds? How were you able to block Elise's probe? And why, by Talon's silver scales, are you dancing a jig?"

Val's grin was infectious. He beamed with his whole heart. "Because I can walk! I can dance! By heaven's grace, I'm not in pain!" For some reason this cause Elise's cool gaze to soften into something strangely gentle, sensual lips curving into a grin.

"What do you remember?" Elise asked.

Val swallowed, stilled, lowering his gaze, suddenly afraid.

A heartbeat of warmth now replaced by growing tension as Val floundered, desperate to say what he could without being caught by Elise, who might feel nothing but sympathy if he told her the truth, assuming he wasn't being led down a primrose path, a trap only moments from being sprung.

"I was almost kidnapped," he said at last, before the tension turned palpable. "There was a group of people determined to kidnap us. To enslave us." All of which was true. "I was desperate to escape. There was a doorway before me made of crystal, obsidian, and crackling blue light. Within it was a terrible storm of lightning, and, well, nothingness." He swallowed, gazing down at his own trembling hands. "I... I knew I might be risking my own death, but anything was better than to face what they were going to do to us. Controlling our very bodies..." he snapped his head up, catching Elise's unguarded gaze, windows to the soul, and he had a sudden flash of the horrors she had endured. He lowered his eyes, grateful his hunch was correct, yet feeling horrid for what he had seen, for so stealing Elise's own privacy. But he had to know, had to know before he laid his own soul bear, put his own psyche at risk before strangers.

"Valor!" Sten snapped, somehow knowing Val had seen something in her gaze, protecting her as a good leader should.

"That's not all," Val rushed on to say. "They weren't just going to kidnap our bodies. They were getting ready to enslave our very minds." He swallowed. "So we would be their slaves. Forever. Body and soul."

Dead silence filled the room. Val forced himself to raise his eyes, meeting Elise's angry gaze with his own, hiding nothing.

Her angry glare turned to horror. She hissed, shaking her head, looked at anyone but him.

"Elise!" Sten's voice was curt. "What the hell is going on?"

"Darklords," she whispered. "They found a virgin planet to harvest. Val has the gift, as did a dozen others in that room." She trembled, swallowing. "They weren't harvesting them as forced disciples." She clenched her eyes, shaking her head. Val was chilled to see silvery tears leak from her eyes. "They were harvesting them as chattel. Mindslaves. To be squeezed of every last drop of Psion potential, forced to endure sweetest agony that devours them from the inside out. In a few short years, their bodies and minds will become shriveled husks with nothing left to give."

The gnome hissed, lurching back, gazing at Val with an odd mixture of horror and pity. Halvar' lips hardened into an angry line, even as he shook his head. "Bastards."

Sten's own gaze hardened. He shook his head, though whether in pity or disgust, Val wasn't sure. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. "How is that even possible? One thing I know is that Highlords are damn careful not to break their own carefully forged accords. It's the only thing keeping the peace. Their administrators send their cut up to the ships, they hire mercenaries to protect their interests, then spend all their time doing whatever it is Highlords do, not bothering with the peons under their thumb save for personal amusements, so long as they get their monthly tithe." He frowned. "Risking a panic, stirring up an entire world's populace harvesting citizens when they already achieved their much vaunted stability makes no sense." He shrugged. "We all know they find ways to pluck undesirables from the shadows, people no one is likely to miss, but so many with Psion potential harvested not to be initiates, but forced to become mindslaves? How is that even possible?"

Elise flashed a bleak smile. "The answer is simple, Captain. Pierce the veil. Find a world where no accords or formal treaties were ever forged. Then you can harvest to your heart's content and no one is likely to say anything, the planets under their rule just grateful that their own citizens have been spared."

Halvar frowned. "No one can actually pierce the veil, Elise. We know we live in a multiverse because the forces and fields that make up reality demand it. But it can only ever be a theory."

Elise flashed a bitter smile. "Actually you're in error, my friend. Remember, I was a quantum mathematician before my... talent fully blossomed, and life dealt me the hand it had. It is true we could never pierce the veil and engage another reality with the same forces and fields as we have. But we could, in fact, pierce the veil and peer into a universe with fewer. And if enough power is applied, we could change that realm forever."

"Impossible!" Halvar scoffed. "Such a strange place wouldn't be stable at all. It wouldn't be anything like reality as we understand it. I doubt matter and energy would even be the same."

Elise glared at the larger man. "The equations don't lie, Halvar, even if it is only theory. There are risks, grave and terrible. I don't like the idea of fools actually trying to breach it any more than you do!"

"Enough!" Sten snapped. "We can theorycraft when we are done here. For now? We have a crypt to plunder, and we have to decide what to do with the boy here." He took a deep breath, gazing at Val. "Another lost puppy." He sighed. "Alright, kid, I'll offer you a standard contract. Elise will oathbind you if you accept. In return for getting you out of here, providing food, shelter, and orientation into which way is up in this, well, universe of ours... You do have up and down where you come from, yes? Anyway, in return for education and care, you'll intern with us for the next year."

Elise smirked. "Basically you'll do as your told and learn what you can. We keep the profits of our expeditions, you learn what you need to know in order to survive. And if you impress the captain, you might even get a wage if we keep you on after a year."

Sten nodded. "Or we'll drop you off at a stable planet and stick around for a couple of days til you get offered a second job contract, making sure you got a roof over your head that isn't too likely to see you robbed." Sten raised his arm as if to shake on it. "So what do you say, lad? Or you can stay here and in all likelihood die of exposure or thirst before you even find your way to shelter, let alone food and a job."

You have been offered a Binding Oath. - Oaths and contracts are very much the glue that holds this society together, and with a fallen Darklord to reinforce the point, far more binding than vows dependent upon honor alone. Captain Sten has offered to care for you for one year, should you serve him without pay. Do you accept?"

Val shivered at the mental prompt he sensed, fearing he was suffering some odd sort of PTSD. Slowly, respectfully, he shook his head. He was more than a little afraid of being abandoned to his fate, but nothing terrified him so much as being psychically bound to any individual or oath. It smelled too much like walking with open eyes into the very trap of obedience and submission he had fought so desperately to escape.

He swallowed, licking suddenly dry lips. "I'm sorry, Sten, I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass."

Sten's bemused gaze hardened, the entire room seeming to drop in temperature as everyone's gazes turned indifferent. Did he make the wrong call?"

"You sure about that, kid? We might be your only hope out of here, but I'm not going to be taken advantage of by loafers, free-riders, or non-bound souls that could stab me in the back and not think twice about it."

Val's eyes widened. "Why the hell would I stab you in the back? I just woke up from the bleeding edge of oblivion. I could use a friendly face and some company. I sure as heck wouldn't betray it!"

But Sten had already tuned him out, his voice clipped and cold. "Halvar, get the flasks ready. Assist Gregor in draining the second vat, assuming no other bodies spring up at us today."

Halvar gave a crisp nod. "You got it, Captain."

Gregor flashed Val a single pitying gaze before pulling out a small beaker as Halvar levered off the slab to the second crystalline sarcophagus. His pitying glance to Val soon turned to a crow of triumph. "Captain! this is pure Liquid Silbion! If we can get these to the right cybernetics corporations, we'll be worth a fortune!"

The captain flashed a coldly satisfied smile. "That's what I like to hear, Gregor. Now fill the crystals while Elise and I investigate the rest of this chamber."

He pointed his blaster at a startled Val as he approached. "Just stay out of our way, kid. Better yet, why don't you make yourself comfortable in the corner there. When we're done, head south and stay out of the sun. If you're smart and lucky, you'll hit Deadman's Drop oasis before you die of thirst. You can beg someone for a job there. You look in good shape, I'm sure you'll find... something. Good luck in your new life. Now stay the hell out of our way."

Val blinked, speechless as Sten tossed him a flask, Val catching it on pure instinct, quick as he had ever been. A single taste of the contents let him know it was water. "Thanks," he said, dying to say so much more, realizing he had lost a chance, perhaps his best chance at help and friendship, and a little voice inside his mind wailed, as if he had just failed the most introductory level quest. This wasn't just some game he was destined to fail miserably at. His very existence was at stake.

"Sten..."

"Shut up." The captain's cold glare made it damn clear that Val was no longer a welcome sight. Val swallowed and sat, knowing a seated man was a hell of a lot less threatening than a standing one, and since he had absolutely no intention of fighting them, best to look as harmless as possible, lest they think to clean their tracks when it was time for them to leave.

10

Val took a deep breath, seeking to quell the anxiety welling up inside him, the fear of being abandoned impossibly far from home, formerly friendly faces gazing at him with utter indifference. Exhale. Inhale. He felt the mounting anxiety start to trickle away. Regret? Yes, he had that, awful uncertainty still piercing his gut. But at least he was calm, at least he could focus.

All those rehabilitation sessions were paying off after all.

Meditation Rank 2 successfully quantized. Skills you remember having mastered in your previous life mean nothing until they manifest in the actual world. But a truly insightful individual can channel odd recollections into useful skills

He smiled at his own internal dialogue, almost imagining he could see the text, not sure if this universe truly had elements like a computer game, or if computer games were structured, perhaps subconsciously, to mirror realities just a heartbeat away from one's own. Val shook his head, realizing it didn't matter. All that mattered was trying to make the best of what seemed like an increasingly bad situation.

Strange as this place was, it was undeniably beautiful. From the sparkling calligraphy shimmering with outside light refracting through the strange crystal, to the exotic and exquisitely carved statues and figurines placed throughout the massive chamber, to the finely made pillars supporting the massive roof overhead, the chamber was an archaeological treasure trove.

"Hand me a few vials, Gregor, I'll give you a hand," Halvar declared, approaching the vat Val had arrived in. Gregor grunted, scurrying over and gazing at the liquid with a quick off-handed sniff before bending down for some spare crystalline flasks. Then he froze, eyes wide, approaching the open sarcophagus Val had arrived in a second time. His face had taken on a sickly pallor, and even Val could smell the fear sweat on him.

"Halvar." His friend said nothing, just gazing at Gregor with one eyebrow raised. "what I want you to do is back up. Nice and slow. Touch nothing!" Several moments later, Gregor gave a deep sigh of relief, the giant now standing by his side, Elise and Sten watching the tableu just as closely as was a silently sitting Val.

"Gregor, what's up?"

The gnome-like adventurer turned to his captain. 'That Liquid Silbion is infused with Elementium. If some idiot had jostled it..." He turned to glare at Val. "It could have sent this entire complex to the heavens!"

Halvar frowned. "Surely there can't be that much Elementium mixed in? The boy didn't catalyze it when he slipped free, after all."

Gregor furled his bushy brows. "More than enough, I'm afraid. You know as well as I do how perilous it is when these two compounds mix. Few things are more dangerous than liquefied Elementium when Silbion is the base, and only a true master could hope to separate the mixture."

Sten shook his head, barking an angry curse. "Then it's worthless. The cost of such a service would be on par with an Arcanist's, which are beyond any but the Highlords that use them to shape Hyperion Cores."

Gregor chuckled mirthlessly. "That's about the size of it, Captain." He gave a mournful sigh, shaking his head at the compromised pool of liquid before shrugging his shoulders. "Oh well, at least we have an entire sarcophagus's worth of untainted Silbion to console ourselves with!"

Elise flashed a bleak smile. "Indeed. Consolation of sorts for the bitter paths that twined us all together. Now let us scour this chamber from top to bottom, and see what other treasures might be laying about, neglected and forgotten."

Her companions smiled at that, all of them expertly casing the chamber, Val thought, Halvar's red mechanized eye peering closely at various bass reliefs and strange looking pieces of abstract crystalline art. Sometimes he seemed to be peering intently at the walls or floor tiles, as if checking for hidden panels or caches of wealth.

"Captain, I found something!" Gregor declared, excitedly waving what appeared to be several bars of shimmering material that sparkled and flashed, an exotic combination of gold and obsidian, brightly hued yet sparkling with flashes of light glittering from the depths of the exotic looking bars.

Halvar whistled, impressed. "Crystallized Elementium! Those bars are worth a fortune, so long as we keep it separate from the liquid Silbion we've recovered."

Gregor nodded enthusiastically even as Sten paled. "I told you to touch nothing!" he snapped. "Not until I got a good look at it!"

Gregor rolled his eyes. "You have a knack, Captain, but that doesn't mean the rest of us are idiots."

Just then a low pitched grinding noise could be heard throughout the chamber. Sten's gaze hardened even as Halvar and Gregor both paled. "Captain," Halvar whispered.

Sten grimaced. "Come with me. We have to check the velimobile. Now."

Not even sparing Val a glance, the four all but fled from the chamber, gazes close to panic.

Val blinked at the sudden absence of sound and commotion, realizing he was now alone for what could be the very first time in his life, if it were somehow true that the last twenty years were somehow just a quirk of memory defining the strange being that had sprung to life via the tiniest of fluxes in the forces and fields of reality, synergized and catalyzed by the massive pool of priceless magical goop he had found himself floating in. Or perhaps it was psionic goop. Either way, something had happened.

He shook away the chilling thought. He was real, as was his history, and metaphysical conundrums were beside the point. All that mattered, all that was relevant, was where he went from here.

He took stock of himself, stroking legs naked save for the shimmering cloak he was given, smiling in gratitude to the fates that, however he had arrived at this moment, he was free of the horrid pain that had tormented him for endless months. Slowly rising, he found his movements flowing effortlessly, with perfect poise and grace.

Then he blinked, feeling something strange.

He shivered as he took a close look at what his hand just barely caressed. Something mysterious attached, it seemed, at the navel. Nothing. Just a flicker of darkness, the luminescence causing strange shadows in this stranger world. He tried to tell himself that, even as he forced himself to peer in directions strange indeed, shivering as he saw that flicker of shadow open into a vast matrix of potentiated possibility, all tightly contained.

He forced himself to swallow, taking a sip of precious water to soothe his bone-dry throat, trembling as he felt his hand somehow slip through, before pulling it back abruptly.

It had felt, for all the world, like he had somehow touched whatever odd plane was responsible for his rebirth. As if it were a micro-wormhole, or, strange as it was to think it, wasn't it more like a crack between realities? A pocket dimension, perhaps.

Then a thought tickled his fancy so abruptly that he began to chuckle.

What was a bag of holding, after all, save a portable pocket dimension? And if this was really a game... or if games were but reflections of this higher reality, perhaps such a thing was possible?

Knowing that he was following pure whimsy, he tuned out the increasingly frantic voices still some distance down the passageway leading away from the chamber, walking in a daze back towards the sarcophagus that had catalyzed his rebirth.

He peered closely at the strange silvery-blue liquid. Utterly opaque, yet somehow translucent at the same time. He shivered, somehow looking deeper into the matrix of swirling forces and potentials that comprised that liquid, feeling an odd shimmering dark energy he associated with will, desire, intensity of purpose. Somehow he knew it was its Psionic strength that he was sensing. Yet overlaying that was a shimmering gold plasma of highly catalyzed potential, seeming to oscillate through this reality and countless others in ways Val could scarcely define, but could somehow sense.

He shook his head in awe as he gazed upon raw magic potential for the first time in his life. He felt the truth of it, reverberating and caressing his senses. He frowned, somehow understanding as well that the golden matrix overlaying the silver blue was somehow active, open to catalyzation and cascades of ever-increasing power quickly oscillating into a massive release of potential energy, should it be exposed to any strong arcane or perhaps even electromagnetic catalyst.

Val swallowed, backing slowly away, before stopping abruptly, his hand caressing the surface of the liquid within the sarcophagus. Tentatively, he swirled the viscous liquid with his finger, noting how the miniature whirlpool continued to spin long after he had stopped.

And how it began again as he mimed swirling with his finger above the sarcophagus, applying force only with his mind.

If he could control the flow with just the force of his will, knowing it somehow tapped into both his arcane and psionic potential, would it really be so hard to separate the two strange materials? Val peered at the viscous fluid plopping and bubbling with increasing intensity. He wiped the sweat suddenly forming on his brow, imagining himself suddenly surrounded by multiple kilos of unstable explosives.

Focus. Concentrate. See the flow. Calm.

He took a deep shuddering breath as the vat began to seethe, the Elementium seeming to obtain a brilliant golden glow just from the minuscule amounts of arcane energy he was somehow using to wrench it free of the Silbion when he stopped cold, realizing he was doing it all wrong.

He took a deep breath, focusing once more.

The mixture continued to roil, a faint patina of crimson gold overshadowing the translucent silver blue.

Val felt his heart lurch, realizing he was but seconds away from a rather spectacular death.

In those final, awful moments he found his mind flashing to images of trying fruitlessly to solve a Rubix Cube years ago, and how many strange toys that his ancestors favored that were not pulled apart by force, but rather, like the set of rings he had been given one summer, slid free only when pressed tightly together, allowed to slide beside one another before at last popping open.

Insight gained! When brute force is going to blow you sky-high, why not slide past the problem instead? Greater Alchemy Rank 1 achieved. - Many scholars with a shred of talent learn how to combine magically infused regents into potions, yet the ability to separate two core fundaments flies directly in the face of all they understand to be true.

Alchemical formulae known: None.

Alchemical hunches: Mixing Elementium into Liquid Silbion could lead to explosive repercussions. What are the parameters of this? Or... how can I outrage and offend an entire world?

Alchemical feats known: True distillation. - You can separate both magically and psionically charged components into their constituent parts without the need of any arcane or technological crutches. Not that there are any tools known to humans that can reverse the fusing of Silbion and Elementium. Only a few sad souls like yourself, easy prey for those far more terrible than they.

Val let loose a shuddering breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding when he blinked, wiping his forehead free of sweat, taking strange, sweet delight at the tingle flowing through him, as if delighting in solving a marvelously complex puzzle, even as countless Psionically enriched particles began to slip free of endless singularities of shimmering gold.

Instinctively, he knew when to lower his hand into the vat, raising a large amorphous blob of fire touched golden ore. Somewhat like the obsidian gold bars Gregor had been crowing over, before he and his friends had abruptly fled.

Val winced, regretting again having said just the wrong thing, not sensing unspoken social undercurrents when, perhaps if he had presented himself differently, made a joke, somehow charmed the captain, he would even now be among them, counted a well-met acquaintance, and perhaps one day soon, a friend.

Val sighed. What was done was done. Best if he did what he could for himself now.

He stared hard at the shimmering stone in his hand, at the vat of now purified liquid, realizing that he might have just made things extremely awkward if he wasn't very, very careful. He gazed down at his navel like a child, struck with the oddest fancy.

He held his breath, staring hard at his navel. What if? - He imagined himself a grain of sand upon a blue sea of possibility, directing a sudden raging current through dark channels of probability, splashing at last into a beautiful cistern comprised of folds in reality itself. A place where space was infinite yet contained, and time had no meaning.

He blinked, looking into the sarcophagus.

Save for the shimmering stone of fiery gold obsidian that he held, the sarcophagus was void of even the memory of the treasures it had once held.

He closed his eyes and smiled, sensing, somehow, the silver-blue presence both there and not there. He frowned, curious at his own potential, and though he wasn't the best visualizer, still he did his best to picture a ten by ten grid, knowing somehow that it was appropriate.

In the upper left-hand corner was a single silver-blue square with strange symbols that, upon posing his own sense of mathematics, clicked into numbers that actually made sense. Exactly 10 gallons, or 37,854 milliliters of what was apparently an exceedingly valuable liquid was now somehow linked to him. And it seemed that its very psionic potential was what had allowed him to 'lock' it in place, after the tingling effort of first getting it in there.

He gazed at the stone of what he surmised was purest magic potential, wondering if he could do the same for that, frowning only a moment at the thought of ten gallons of C4 exploding in his mind, should the two items manage to catalyze each other. Death would be beyond instant, and probably there would be very little left for a few blocks in all directions.

He flashed a single maverick grin and rolled the dice, trusting that his hunch was right, and grinning with undisguised glee when another square in his mental construct of a checkerboard lit up a brilliant red gold, on the opposite end of the grid as the first. Gazing carefully at the strange symbols that popped up under the square, he apparently had 5,426 grams of magic ore securely sequestered within the mystic rift of spacetime that seemed to be acting just like a bag of holding.

He looked at the one article of clothing he owned and smiled, doubting the cloak would 'fit' into his interdimensional bag. Still, he'd be a fool not to test the possibility. He closed his eyes and concentrated, feeling the oddest tingle, before the cloak settled comfortably on his shoulders once more and he had let go of his will. It was as if it were coated in lard and slipping through his fingers. There were no 'hooks,' psionic or arcane, to latch it into place.

Val blinked as yet another strange flash of awareness hit him, words echoing through his mind, a memory implanted, as if many seconds had somehow passed in an instant.

Rift Mastery Rank 1 achieved: Due to your unique birth, unwanted offspring of the cosmos sprung from quantum particle fluctuations that you are, (who has the conceit to think that he was once a man, having imprinted the final moments of one who came before) you still have links to the umbilical cord of your own creation, connecting you to an impossibly tiny yet vast pocket realm of your own.

As you have the ability to perceive and manipulate both Psionic and Arcane forces and fields, you can draw elements and artifacts polarized to either or both into your pocket realm. Each unique invested item, or the sum total of any elemental potency so stored uses either one Mana or one Psion point to lock the resonance in place. Don't ever try this with people! The ultimate suspended animation, after all, is death itself.

Val blinked, fascinated. For all that it discomfited him, making him feel less a human and more a character in a game, he forced his mind to look inward, to gaze at his derived stats. He saw his psionic and magic reserves as dark and gold pools of potential, strange symbols beside them resolving into numbers he instantly recognized. Mana 95/99 (-1) Psion 93/99 (-1). He blinked, then thought he understood. It had taken energy and focus to 'feel out' how best to separate the Silbion from the Elementium, tapping into his psychic and arcane reserves both. Even as he meditated on his sense of self, he felt as much as saw his Mana and Psion pools both steadily increasing back to 99. He nodded, realizing that the (-1) penalty was probably because he had locked one item of magical properties and one psionic. Quantities didn't seem to matter, only type.

In that moment he wondered how closely this universe followed the gaming metaphor. Could he level? For all that he was just grateful to be whole, healthy, and imbued with what seemed some remarkable talents, if he could level as well, there was no telling how far he could go in this strange new life. Assuming he survived the next few days, of course.

Val frowned, forcing himself to focus on his environment once more, wondering if he had been foolish, not putting distance between himself and the party of treasure hunters even now heading back up the corridor, angry words and cursing in ample abundance.

With three swords and at least several blasters in play, he'd be an idiot to take any other path but gentle docility, particularly considering that the party had originally been at least somewhat helpful, before he had managed to offend them so significantly they would pretend he didn't exist at all.

When a frustrated looking Sten entered the chamber he frowned at Val, calmly seated as he was before they had left, but saved his ire for the people entering just behind him.

"This is why you don't go taking the initiative when we're exploring, Gregor!"

The smaller man bristled. "It's not my fault this bloody place is a deathtrap. How was I supposed to know a huge slab of crystal would cut off our exit when all I did was lift a single stone?"

"You weren't supposed to notice," Sten snapped. "I was! You were to leave these risks to me, til I got a feel for the story. But you didn't, and this tale has taken a darker turn than it had to."

Elise frowned, turning her gaze towards Val. "Tell me you had nothing to do with this."

Val was chilled by the ice in her tone. The last thing he wanted was another Darklord as an enemy. Damaged or no, Val new his chances of surviving his very first day of existence would have grown very slim indeed if Elise wanted him gone.

He solemnly shook his head. "You yourself said I've only now come to life, helpless as a babe in the wild. That hasn't changed from the time you met me with smiles, only to leave me with nothing but the fear of dying lost and alone on this strange world only moments later, just because I hesitated for even a moment at agreeing to become your indentured serf." Val grimaced, realizing how petty that sounded, perceiving the folly of his words only after the fact.

Sten, handsome features void of anything but hot anger stormed over to Val, tearing off his cloak, grabbing the water flask, and Val forced himself to do nothing, absolutely nothing to resist, bitterly regretting his foolish words already.

"Nothing? We did nothing for you? That's why I gave you one of only two flasks of water I had brought along? That's why my friend gave you a Hesentian cloak that would protect you from sun, cold, and any number of snake bites thanks to its immaculate weave? Arrogant shit!" Deep green eyes flared with ire. He looked ready to boot Val before closing his eyes and collecting himself once more, now truly leaving Val with nothing, walking back to his companions.

"We're taking these back," he said in a voice devoid of all warmth. "Not just because you're an arrogant prick who turned down a damn fine offer of friendship, a chance for you to prove yourself. We need the water. The front entrance to which this is the first main adjoining chamber has just sealed itself shut. Tons of crystallized altersian stone now block our path, and there is no way in hell our blasters can cut through. If we're to have a chance, a single chance at survival, we need all the water we can get, winding our way through this maze of a barrow, hoping there is an exit or a weak point in the structure we can safely blast our way through."

Sten sighed, gazing hard at a blinking Val, who was still trying to come to terms with what just happened, the thought of being forced to find his way out of this ancient stone tomb with absolutely nothing useful, and then have to survive the extremes of a desert the moment he left, only hoping he could reach some sort of civilization before perishing.

"Alright, kid, you might be a bit of a prick, and normally I wouldn't give you a second glance, but hell, since you're dead if you stay and we're all dead like as not, let's try this again." He flashed a wry, humorless smile. "Work with us in getting out of here. Do what you're told, watch our backs, and you'll get a fair share of rations and once we're out, a free ride to town, and some silver for your trouble to boot. All you have to do is give your Oath to Elise not to stab us in the back while we journey together. Well, kid? What do you say?"

You have been offered a Binding Oath. - Oaths and contracts are very much the glue that holds this society together, and with a fallen Darklord to reinforce the point, far more binding than vows dependent upon honor alone. Sten has offered to share rations and allow you to accompany them while they search for an exit. In return, you are to take orders, help defend them, and swear not to stab them in the back or otherwise cause them harm while you journey together. Do you accept?

Solemnly, Val nodded, surprised to find Sten as well as everyone else visibly relaxing, an unseen tension only noted in its absence.

Val blinked, realizing the disturbing flash of intuition he had had while zoning into the weird mental prompt he had found just might have been all too accurate.

For the first time, Elise smiled at Val with approval as she approached "It's about time you came to your senses, kid." She gently stroked his cheek in a gesture disturbingly familiar to Solena's, though he quelled the sudden disgust and horror he felt, crushing it to nothing. Elise's eyes widened, even as Halvar sighed with relief. "Thank Justice I don't have to vaporize the kid."

Val swallowed at that, Gregor smacking his larger friend's armored frame before wincing himself. "Don't distress the boy with your drivel. He made the right choice, and all is well. Let's get this oath down and the show on the road! We have an exit to find and loot to claim."

Elise gently placed her hand on Val's forehead. "Do you swear to cooperate with us, to do your best to follow orders so long as they cause no deliberate harm to yourself, and above all else, swear to cause us no deliberate harm until we have left these catacombs, Val?"

Val smiled and nodded, shivering as he gathered a strange sense of silver knots tying around his psyche with those words. He smiled into strangely gentle violet eyes, his fingers reaching out to her temple of their own accord. "I so swear. Do you swear as well to share your rations with me, and not cause deliberate harm to me, so long as we adventure together?" He felt a strange rush of exhilaration, imagining a gentle silver loop flowing over and around her surprise, needing only sincerity to latch on and become an echo of herself, her intention, her identity. He realized in that endless moment that she could break his oath, as she could his, but that it would cause severe internal discord. He could only guess what that meant.

Elise paled and swallowed, suddenly shaking, lurching away from Val.

"By Justice I've had enough!" Val sensed as much as heard Stem's bitter curse, dodging and rolling before the man could smash his kneeling form with a furious booted foot.

"Sten, what the hell are you doing?" Gregor, eyebrows wide with shock, stared at a furious captain, glaring at a surprised and frightened Val, gazing into the blaster aimed right between his eyes.

Sten trembled, gazing at Val with black fury. "I don't care what a messed up little wreck you are. I don't even care if you're real, or just some arcane delusion cooked up by this tomb to throw us into disarray! You've hurt Elise for the last time..."

Val felt his heart slam in his chest, panic and fury suddenly pouring out in equal measure. Time itself seemed to slow as his mind raced through the mad encounter with Solena, what now seemed a lifetime ago, desperate to hold onto any facet that would allow him to survive this day. He could all but taste Solena's cruel, sensual whisper, how it had almost carried him away from the first time she had spoken, how even with his strange Shadowmind skill, she had still had him partially under his influence when she had found his weakness, what he craved most of all.

To be in a world like this, perhaps, where so much seemed possible, and he just a heartbeat away from getting shot.

"Stop it, Sten!" Val blinked, as did Sten. It was Elise herself. "He did nothing wrong."

He frowned, turning to her. "What the hell do you mean he did nothing wrong? I saw your face, Elise, the terror you felt! He was doing something to you, I know that!"

Elise gave an amazed shake of her head. "He was, Sten, but not what you think. He was just, well, he was echoing my own power back at me."

Sten blinked, nonplussed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Elise flashed a rueful smile. "I guess I'm not the only one who can oathbind, now."

Sten gazed at Val. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Halvar whistled. "That's no small knack. When did you learn that, lad?"

Val flashed a pained grimace. "I don't know that I learned anything. I just had a hunch. And like mirroring a sword form to learn it, I just imitated Elise's matrix. She doesn't have to agree to anything. It was just that, well, I just wanted to see if I could do it."

Sten's amazed stare flattened once more. "You tried to oathbind our Elise, just to see if you could?"

Val swallowed. "Not exactly, it's just...well, maybe I wanted to impress you guys a little bit too. Show that I'm not completely worthless."

"By threatening the psyche of our Psion?"

Val grimaced, gazing down at his feet. "I'm sorry, Sten." He chuckled ruefully. "It seems like everything I say or do is just going to offend you, so I'm sorry about that as well. Just promise me that you're not going to get sick of me before we even get out of here, or, well, kill me for an inconvenience, like I know you've halfway contemplated doing already."

Psionic Oathbinding Rank One Achieved. - Thanks to your remarkable insight, you managed to grasp the very basics of this art after experiencing Elise's binding. Too bad your unimpressive charisma meant a simple misunderstanding nearly cost you your life! Remember, even a dozen oathbound thralls can't help you if you're too foolish to help yourself.

Sten's eyes flashed before he chuckled ruefully. "Fair enough, kid. No blasting you in your sleep, no matter how much I think you deserve it, so long as you do your best to help get us through this." He sighed and shook his head. "We cooperate and we watch each other's backs, Val, or none of us are likely to see the dawn ever again."

Val nodded his agreement. He knew he had little sense of timing, at least in this place and time, but he figured he had nothing to lose, so he might as well try. "Since we're trying to get out of here together, I guess you could say we're adventurers in common accord, am I right?"

Sten frowned, though Halvar actually chuckled at that. "I guess you could say that, lad. Reminds me of my soldiering days. Why not be friendly and work to common cause with the natives and other units alike? No reason for us to be at each other's throats if no one was paying us for it."

Sten furrowed his brow. "What's your point, kid?"

Val swallowed, gazing at the captain. "Is it okay if I collect some treasure for myself? I mean, only whatever you're not claiming yourself, of course." He smirked. "Just as soon as Halvar tells me where the pockets are on this thing?"

Sten shook his head, cracking the barest hint of a grin as Halvar chuckled. "Sorry, lad. Only two pockets, but I don't see why you can't grab some toys for yourself. It'll give you a leg up when you get out of here, maybe a fighting chance at a decent life after all." His maverick grin turned to cold steel. "Just so long as it's understood that we take first pick of every damn sight we find. You don't ever jump our claims."

Val raised his hands. "Hey, the last thing I want to do is offend seven feet of badass special forces."

Halvar blinked, frowning, his cybernetic eye dilating strangely, before he cracked a grin. "Did you just call me an elite mercenary?"

Val smiled back. "If you took it as a compliment? Then absolutely. If not? Then I have no idea what you're talking about."

Halvar chuckled softly. "I don't think this lad is a projection of this place, Sten. He's far too good at acting like a kid, ramming that foot of his right into his mouth."

Sten's grin was all teeth. "I figured that much out myself."

Elise smiled. "I can see why the Highlords are daring to breach the rift. If souls with Vals' potential are common upon his planet, they will be rich prizes indeed."

Gregor rolled his eyes. "More likely he is the memory of some lost boy a thousand years old. Catalyzed into existence by some freakish mixture of Silbion and Elementium, a bloody fantastic fortune wasted in some doomed attempt to bring life to some long lost pharaoh's son."

Val lowered his head, strangely embarrassed by the analysis. "But Gregor, if that were true, it was hardly a waste, right? I mean, I'm alive."

Gregor smirked. "That's true, at least, even if you've only come back to sentience a millennium after your clan's empire was destroyed utterly, reclaimed by the dust from which it sprung. Still, better late than never, I suppose." Bushy eyebrows peered closely at a bemused Val. "Come to think of it, many ancient civilizations were ruled by a skilled warrior class. I don't suppose you happen to know your way around weaponry of any sort?"

Val couldn't help smiling. "Light and heavy artillery, demolitions, and small arms. Before I enlisted, I practiced quite a bit with longsword, saber, dagger, and wrestling in high school."

Gregor frowned. "High school? And your word, 'artillery', doesn't exactly translate. Do you mean blasters?"

Val shrugged. "Sure, if it handles like an assault rifle."

Sten gave a curt shake of his head. "Irrelevant. He says he knows his way about a sword. Can you use this?" He held up his small shield and a finely hilted sword that started straight but began to curve halfway up the blade. It was not made of any sort of steel, but the polymer looked exceedingly sharp, which Val tested with his fingernail, the weapon easily slicing a sliver off. Val noted the tiny blade serrations, which he thought would be extremely effective for cutting through fabric and leather. The shape was strangely familiar.

Swallowing, feeling a curious sense of excitement, Val nodded in the affirmative.

Sten frowned. "Prove it. Not against one of us. We don't have staves for sparring, and that polymer is as sharp as a field nurse's scalpel. You must have learned some sort of air form?"

Hesitating, Val nodded, spending a few seconds getting a feel for it, finding its balance remarkably similar to a 1796 light cavalry saber, if a bit lighter. He performed a basic sword drill incorporating various under and overhand slashes into the standard set of eight blows that had been considered the core of English saber at one point in time, surprised that his wrist wasn't at all fatigued, for all that it had been literally years since he had practiced with that weapon. Still, if he had been brought back to life in peak form, such that his body was at its physical prime in every sense of the word, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised that he felt no strain.

"Yes, but can you use it with a shield?" Elise's words washed over Val as he nodded, shifting his stance, leading with the shield, now using the saber as he might an arming sword, though thrusts he kept to a minimum, the balance and shape of the blade being far more suited to the cut.

Elise gave a grunt, her gaze implying that he just barely passed muster.

Halvar grinned. "Well, at least we know he can swing a sword without lopping his ears off or cutting us in twain. Actual combat will be a hell of a lot different, but perhaps he won't be complete dead-weight after all."

Sten shook his head. "We can only hope."

Sword and Shield rank 2 successfully quantized. Skills you remember having mastered in your previous life mean nothing until they manifest in the actual world. Only truly insightful individuals can channel odd recollections into useful skills

Val frowned. Rank 2? He had no real sense of what that meant, precisely, but he had just performed some basic exercises with a combination he was not used to. Straight sword and shield with appropriate balance, or better yet, a longsword, and he'd like to think he'd do even better, especially after a week or two to polish skills that had collected dust for the last three years. Since no new disembodied voices or strange prompts manifested with his silent declaration of skill, he shrugged and didn't worry about it further. He was as good as he was, regardless of what some disembodied voice thought.

"Alright. We're done here. Let's head on to the rearmost chamber. Keep an eye out, but only grab truly valuable prizes. We have limited carrying space now, and we can only hope to be able to come back for the Silbion later."

Halvar looked up from the blaster he was inspecting and flashed the captain a placating smile. "I'm sure it will all be fine. We bought this tract of land outright under a development contract, and that includes all claim rights. Everything here is ours, and best of all, we didn't have to tell a soul anything more than that we're trying to harvest trace Elementium. If they think we're using giant wind-furnaces when we're actually treasure hunting, that's on them. We have plenty of time to drill through that altersian stone later, just so long as we get out of here alive."

Sten grunted. "So let's work on getting out of here already." He then quickly led the way out of the room, Val following tentatively behind, strangely reluctant to leave the sight of his birth.

"Come on, kid, no time for lollygagging," Gregor clucked, gently patting Val's shoulder, coaxing him through the triangularly arched doorway and out into the main hall. Val blinked, gazing up at the shimmering quartz above his head, both illuminating the grand looking corridor and bathing everyone in strangely tinted rainbows. He couldn't help but be a bit awed by the wonder of it all, curious as to what mysteries lay within the doorways they passed as they continued to walk down the corridor of perfectly polished stone.

Val turned to the shorter man, even then frowning as the captain passed chamber after chamber.

"Captain."

"We'll come back later, Gregor."

"But we're passing the scholarium! It could host any number of profound treasures. You know what those collectors will pay if we can get our hands on actual works of arcane scholarship! What if we can't ever shift that massive block of stone that eats lasers like candy without giving the whole game away?"

Sten frowned, slowing and stopping his pace.

"He's right, you know," Elise chimed in. "This might be our one chance to safely explore the library before we have to worry about inspectors and claim jumpers. You know as well as I that any tomes dealing with the arcane, let alone actual spell-matrixes, will be snapped up by those bureaucrats as cultural treasures before they sell it to the same collectors we would, under the pretext of trade revenue for Jordia, while keeping a nice tidy profit for themselves."

Sten shook his head and sighed, lip curling into the faintest of grins. "When you're right, you're right, Elise. Very well. Let's do a quick scan, but don't lose yourselves. I'm giving us one hour. Our supplies are limited, and our journey has just begun."

Elise nodded as did Gregor, who was all but rubbing his hands in anticipation before they darted into a grand chamber filled with hollowed alcoves serving as bookshelves, each holding a number of bound tomes constructed of what looked to be metal plates.

Val glanced the captain's way, getting a single curt nod before he also darted inside, heading for the nearest alcove, beginning to feel the explorer's bug himself. Exploring lost cities and ancient citadels had always been the highlight of his PvE experience when playing online games, and now he was getting a chance to embrace the archaeologist's path for real. He felt a tingle of excitement as he grabbed a tome and stroked its deep blue cover, a strange composite material, cool and solid like metal, but somehow... other. His hands tingled and he felt his heart rate kick up a bit, somehow sensing the wonder that lay just between the pages of the tome he had claimed.

He cracked it open and blinked, unable to read a single word.

More than that, he had no real comprehension of what he was even seeing. It was a strange web of interlocking lines and geometric shapes rendered in exquisite detail. He shivered as he gazed with ever greater intensity, feeling almost like he could fall into the strange design, sensing ever greater complexity as he continued to gaze at the exquisitely intricate matrix.

He felt a hand gently brush his shoulders, immediately snapping him back into the moment. He closed his eyes and shook his head, suddenly dizzy.

"Val? What did you find?" Elise gazed at him intently.

He shrugged and smiled. "Something amazing, that's for sure. I've never seen anything quite like it. I just wish they would have used writing I could understand."

Elise frowned. "Writing? Solid conversation? Sometimes your words don't translate, Val."

Val blinked, nonplussed. "I mean...whatever words should be in this book?"

Elise wasted no more words, plucking the tome from his hands, flipping it open, staring intently at the strange interlocking meshwork of lines and symbols. She shook her head and sighed. "This is just a booklet on basic meditation, Val. It's a basic conceptual-mapping. Really, I thought you had found something far more significant, considering how intently you were staring at it.

Val swallowed, gazing into soft, violet eyes. "You mean you can understand it? What does it say?"

Elise frowned. "It doesn't 'say' anything, Val. It's not a recording. It doesn't need words. It is a basic conceptual mapping. The terms are clearly defined and the ideas fully interlocked. It succeeds in its own proof, as any good scientific or mathematical exposition should." Her frown only deepened. "Surely you know how to read?"

Val blinked, suddenly feeling more lost than he had since his freshman orientation at a private school that he knew was out of his league, years ago. It had been a humbling experience, for him and his father both. Val had many strengths, but he was no scholar. He had never felt depressed before that first week, or quite so much like a failure when warm camaraderie from his male peers and more than a few friendly smiles from girls who didn't mind the quiet athlete soon turned into looks of pity when Val just couldn't keep up. He wasn't stupid. Things would click when he studied them slowly, at his own pace, after class. But he just couldn't keep up with the pace his elite peers absorbed the material. What made it even worse was that most of the kids didn't even need to study. Their near photographic memories took it all in stride, just focusing on the professors during class.

Val grimaced and turned away, unable to meet Elise's gaze, so much like that of a girl he had truly been infatuated with when first transferring to that school, whose early smiles had turned to complete disregard when it was clear to all by week two that Val just couldn't keep up with their elite pack.

Perhaps Elise sensed something of his embarrassment, how awkward and slow he suddenly felt. "It's not that strange that you can't read, Val. You only, well, you only came into being less than an hour ago. The fact that you can even hold a conversation with me is nothing short of profound."

Val smiled. "That's because I somehow sense the meaning of your words as you say them to me. As if it were a mental bit of information you wanted to impart, had imparted thousands of times before, so my mind can just sort of pluck it out of the ether and lock it into place. Even if your thoughts are mostly closed to me otherwise."

Elise frowned. "Mostly?"

Val grinned. "Tell me I don't seem like some sad lost puppy who you pity, even as your husband can't stand the slobber."

Elise blinked, gazing at Val strangely before abruptly tilting back her head and letting loose silvery peals of laughter. "Oh Val, that's a priceless image! A man choosing to marry me, of all people, and you our adopted vilseg." She smirked. "Your flaws aside, Val, I'm far happier you're a man than an overly large rodent as like to want to stay and burrow your way to happiness here than come home with us."

Val smiled, feeling a curious sense of relief, even if he did now feel like an illiterate fool. "Reading is quite different from symbols and interconnected lines, where I'm from."

Elise tilted her head curiously. "Are you sure? Assuming your world is real, perhaps scholars mastered expositions of this sort? Abstract and scientific concepts considered the realm of scholars? You yourself said you were a soldier. Certainly your training must differ considerably from those of scholarly bloodlines?"

Val slowly shook his head. "No, Elise. No language save maybe one designed for artificial intelligence in the most advanced labs used interconnecting links, lines, and symbols as a sort of self-contained language and discipline and set of proofs all at once." He frowned. "Perhaps geometry touches upon this, but only slightly. No, Elise. For the most part, we use phonetic languages to communicate. Much like speaking, only the words are written down."

Elise blinked, gazing at Val strangely. "Your writing is comprised of mere recordings? But how do you ever tie your ideas down into a comprehensive mind-map? Easily memorized, putting a whole field of study in your literal mind's eye? So much useful, concise data at your fingertips? Surely you won't tell me that your professionals are idiots stumbling in the darkness of their own skulls, struggling to find bits of remembered lore from what, thousands of hours of stories told by their seniors?"

Val shook his head, then grimaced. "Well, actually, school is sort of, well, dipping our toes in a dozen fields, often remembering very little, then when it's time for advanced studies or work, we just keep certain core facts and equations in mind, building upon them in class... but wait, it isn't as bad as you think! We have computers that keep track of these things for us. We can basically 'google' the answer to any question we have..."

Elise frowned. "So even your scholars need to go through endless tapes of recordings to remember whatever it is they need to know for whatever problem they are solving? And what is this 'google?'

Val grimaced. "We go online. On the world wide web? It's an incredible vast treasure trove of information and entertainment. The scholarly ones among us go there to learn new things. Most other people go online to catch sports, their latest shows, or whatever else suits their fancy."

Elise blinked, her gaze one of utter confusion. "Even tasting the meaning behind your words, your world sounds utterly strange.

Val grimaced and shrugged. "Don't you have an internet here? Videos? Music?"

Elise frowned. "Do we have computational machines? Of course. They help us in our research, and we have devices to entertain us as well. But you act as if they should all be interconnected, somehow?"

Val tilted his head. "Um...yes?"

Elise shook her head strangely at that, a frowning Sten looking their way. "Elise, we have limited time. Val, if you can't read, fine. Just step back and don't touch anything." With that he was off on the hunt once more, Elise favoring Val with a sympathetic nod before she too wandered off in search of whatever prizes were to be found.

Val sighed and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. In... out. He opened his eyes, watching the entrance, just in case, but for the most part, he just let his mind drift as he meditated, existing only in the moment, embracing his connection to this strange, wondrous world, of which he had only seen the tiniest fraction.

In... out. His eyes alone anchored him to the physical. He allowed his sense of self to grow. To expand, much as he did when meditating at home, as if he was encompassing his home, fancying sensing his father's animated conversations with venture partners, the soaps their sometime maid would watch on the family screen television when her tasks were done, even the stray cats they would leave food out for, embracing their silent patrols that kept their garden remarkably free of vegetable stealing vermin. For all that he knew it had been pure whimsy, some days Val truly felt like he was becoming one with his environment, an added bonus to the time he was able to escape his pain-wracked body.

He couldn't help smiling at the one positive undeniable truth of the moment. Whatever else he was fated to suffer, his physical body felt vibrant, vigorous, and utterly free of pain. Even as he tuned back into his own thoughts, sensing a natural end to his meditative session, he became conscious also of the strange tingling he felt, as if feathers were tickling various parts of his body, somehow extending to the entirety of the library itself.

He blinked, gasping as he snapped back into himself, hit by a sudden inspiration.

"Val, where are you going?" Gregor's curious voice washed over Val as he darted between grand shelves of stone, suddenly hurrying to find the sources of the tingles before their memory left him entirely.

"Val, stop!" Sten's voice, brooking no argument. Val instantly complied, grimacing with frustration, but determined not to piss off the man who for all intents and purposes held Val's life in his hands.

"Alright, at least you can follow a basic order. Now, why are you rushing off?"

Val licked parched lips. "I think, I think I might have an idea of where something valuable might be found. Call it a hunch."

Sten gazed at Val some silent moments before finally nodding. "All else aside, I'm not one to discount a hunch."

Flashing a grateful smile, Val did just that, worrying that his sense of things was already fading, worrying that he was already too late.

There. On that alcove. A handful of the strange metallic tomes. And one of them, tucked behind the others... almost reverentially, he pulled it out, handing it to a highly curious Gregor. "Please don't say anything. Let me finish my search before the itch passes."

Gregor blinked. "Go on then, I won't slow you down." He was already opening the tome, frowning curiously when Val flashed a grateful smile and continued on to the second place he had sensed something, scowling as he glared at a cluster of books, not quite sure which one he had felt. So confusingly faint was this one... almost as if it had been hiding.

"Val?" Elise, gazing at him curiously.

"It's in that pile, I think. Somewhere in there, but I'm not quite sure... and I'm losing a sense of the last."

Elise nodded. "We can check this pile. Go. Follow your hunch. Find something to make this time spent worth our efforts."

Val grimaced, feeling a sudden sense of pressure, doing his best to let it flow away, to let all care and concern flow away, as if he were naught but a stone thrown into a stream, all troubles and dust washed away, just one among thousands of others as the waters of life roared past, neither rejecting nor judging him, just accepting him as part of the flow.

There. he pivoted left and turned down a corridor, finding himself suddenly before a dead end, sensing that something strange and profound lay beyond
the wall of stone before him. Potent, yet inert. What had once been vibrant was still, now. It was almost as if he were looking at a hurriedly made shrine. He prayed he would find no bodies beyond.

He flinched at the hand upon his shoulder, for all that he had sensed Halvar's approach. The mercenary whistled. "What did you find, boy?"

Val shrugged. "Beyond this stone wall is something. I don't know what."

Halvar nodded in approval. "You're an odd one, Val, but your nose is sharp." He grinned as the frowning captain and the others approached. "I always wanted a tracking vilseg," he declared to no one in particular.

Gregor was gazing at Val with something close to awe. "How did you know?" he asked, trembling hands holding the tome Val had found as if it were a sacred artifact.

Val blinked. "Know what?"

Gregor blinked in disbelief. "This is a pristine tome of alchemy! Revealing the secrets of compounding the alchemically inclined plants of Jordia! Priceless. Absolutely priceless. The damn excuses for wizards inhabiting the southern continent refuse even to speak to foreigners of anything to do with magic! Most of them wish we'd all leave this world entirely, not that that's ever going to happen." He frowned, peering at Val suspiciously. "I'd almost think you found this tome too easily. And you did manifest just as the trap was sprung."

Halvar smirked. "Yes. The lad here just radiates scheming puppetmaster. Don't mind Gregor, boy. He's almost as suspicious as the wizards that refuse to truck with us at all, wishing only that we'd all vanish. As Gregor said, that's never going to happen. But they need not worry. As long as they forbear assaulting the north, the Dominion will honor its treaties. We survived an ugly war that was far too costly. So strongly this world resonates with the arcane that their spells were shredding our tech, and even as we blasted those damn wizards and their summonings with laser fire, the smart ones managed to hide real fast. We thought we had them on the run, til the capital was bombarded by liquid fire!" He gave a grim shake of his head. "Ugly days, those were. We almost lost the only cities and ports worth the taking."

Gregor nodded. "Fortunately, their more exotic magics are planet bound, as is always the case. The couldn't touch the Darklords' dreadnoughts, and unless they wanted their own capitals melted to slag, they knew the treaty table was the most civilized of solutions."

Sten chuckled. "So now you know the basic history of this world, Val. Military conquest. The original natives were all but wiped out, centuries ago. Then the settlers who took over grew potent in unexpected ways over the years, turning the tables with enough bite to force the Highlords' hands, so a treaty was struck, and everyone benefited."

Sten flashed a mirthless smile, eyes gently resting upon a solemn-faced Elise. "I have no love for them, but even I can concede that the quality of life for the average citizen has gone up drastically in the years since. The northernmost continent enjoys medicine, true education, and opportunities for advancement unlike anything experienced when they were basically stuck in the iron age.

"And for those whose talents run to the arcane?" Sten shrugged. "They all tend to head south, where they will be most welcome and get to live like kings, even if half the population there live no better than serfs. Few mages choose to live in this part of the world. There are sacrosanct rules about casting spells in populated areas, for one thing, as very, very few mages can safely channel their magic without leaking arcane radiation like a Zyborg fusation and disrupting tech everywhere."

All of them winced at that metaphor, though Val found it to be one of the few concepts that didn't translate for him.

Halvar nodded, gazing at Val with what seemed very close to admiration. "All that being said, Val, our search here was a complete waste of time, save for the Silbion, which is far too bulky to take with us if the front entrance is sealed shut. We would have given up on the library as a lost cause, until you had whatever hunch you did, smelling out a tome that's not only useful, but absolutely priceless for someone who dabbles in the arcane like our Gregor here."

Val blinked. "But didn't you find Elementium bars of some sort?"

Gregor scowled. "Yes, pure Elementium on the surface. The core is lead!" He shook his head. "I suppose you did well enough, for an ancient homunculus. Not that I acknowledge being in your debt or anything, but well done."

Halvar chuckled softly. "Well done indeed. I'm sure even the captain will agree that you deserve credit for your trouble, and we'll see you comfortably off before we part for saner worlds, Val, I can tell you that already."

Sten glared at Halvar a moment before chuckling softly. "I think I've just been outmaneuvered. Very well. We'll see Val comfortably off. He's certainly earned us silver sufficient for the insults rendered, and youth forgives a number of sins, I suppose."

Elise's gaze was gentle. "He's just about three hours old, now. The rules of etiquette and courtesy are not implemented until at least the eighth year." She flashed Val a smile. "You did well, sniffing this out, Val. I think you might have quite a useful knack." Her brows furrowed. "Too bad we can't properly define it."

Gregor shrugged. "Even if it was just a one time hunch, I'll gladly take it. I think I can truly make use of the specimens we've collected now." He chuckled softly. "I've spent a lifetime studying the intricacies of Liquid Silbium and Elementium, in whatever quantities I could obtain such. Now we have an absolute fortune in both, the most powerful of all regents, and a nursery in our ship full of cuttings resonating strongly in the arcane spectrum. This tome will give us opportunities to explore the realm of alchemy like never before, and to bring our discoveries and findings before the Greater Council, assuring our eminence and place in scholarly circles throughout the system!"

Halvar frowned. "Just be careful, Gregor. Not all of us are interested in scholarship to the degree you are. Especially if it costs us our home."

Gregor flashed a cool smile. "Esteemed Scholar is a title that comes with diplomatic immunity for all past transgressions. It is understood that sometimes rules must be... bent, in the pursuit of knowledge."

Halvar blinked in this, lips widening in a feral grin. "On the other hand, there is a lot to be said for independent study, especially if it's grant-funded."

Gregor chuckled. "Isn't it, though? Prestige, immunity, and what amounts to free advertising of the tinctures and potions that will soon be ours!"

Sten smirked. "Just don't go blowing up our ship. What can you tell us about the other tome Val uncovered?"

Gregor shrugged. "Not nearly so interesting or valuable, I'm afraid. It is a tome dealing with personal resonance magics, an internal discipline that was funded by the Dominion itself, in order to encourage wizards to master a discipline that allowed them to channel in a way that didn't disrupt our tech."

Sten blinked. "The ability to embrace all the advantages of technology and still cast spells? I would think that would have really caught on."

"Not really," Gregor sighed. "It is an extremely intensive school of study. In the time it takes to master it, one could achieve elemental mastery over a given form, possibly learning spells that would allow one to devastate entire cities. I won't say the discipline was completely ignored, at least one school of mages here sought to live in harmony with the Dominion. But even today, most Jordian wizards think their ability to wipe out tech is a boon, and fear that the discipline is somehow a trick to make them weak."

Sten nodded. "Their concerns weren't without merit after the uprising."

Gregor shrugged. "PRM training was devised worlds away. Since it involves harnessing internal magics and balancing magical energies tapped into and expressed, it has universal application, no matter your world of origin. But yes, the original masters brought to Jordia tended to be pacifists, and the original push was in the hopes of basically domesticating these wizards."

Sten pointedly looked all around. "It seems obvious that at least a few wizards valued these techniques."

Gregor smiled. "True. For all we know, there are any number of wizards in the capital at this very moment disguised as traders, merchants, businessmen, administrators. Whether it's due to dedicated PRM training, or just forbearing the use of their magics in the city, as long as they don't flash hot and disrupt everything, no one is going to bother them."

Elise nodded. "We've found one prize and one curiosity. Now what remains is to find what's hidden behind this slab."

Halvar nodded, peering intently at the block of stone, and Val could somehow sense the energies released by his infrared eye beam as he scanned the slab. He turned away with a frown. "Strange, Captain. It's not comprised of any altersian crystal matrices, but I can't peer through it at all. I have no idea if traps, treasure, or empty space lies beyond."

Sten frowned, closing his eyes, putting his palm upon the stone. He backed away, frowning. "Nothing. Whatever's beyond has nothing to do with me." He swallowed as if something had gotten stuck in his craw. Unhappy, no doubt, to find he wasn't the center of every story he found himself in.

Gregor frowned. "These two tomes would suggest that a true prize lies beyond. I vote we try to find a way through."

Sten nodded. "We'll give it a shot. Halvar? Can you try to move it aside?"

Halvar grunted and Val gazed in awe at the incredible power he sensed within the cyborg's powerful form, his face turning deep red as veins bulged in his face, lips curled in an awful rictus of effort as he heaved with every iota of his enhanced strength. Val was certain the man could crush skulls with his massive fist.

"No good, Captain," a heaving Halvar conceded several moments later. "Let's try the prybar." And even with the mechanical leverage, the specially treated steel/tungsten alloy did nothing to pry the massive stone free, Halvar's terrible strength only serving to warp the claw end out of true.

"Fire and Fury, if only we had the proper machinery!"

Val continued to stare at the stone slab, suddenly imagining it to be a massive magnet, near impossible to separate, so great was the pull, as Halvar was aptly demonstrating.

He blinked then, struck by the oddest of insights. "Captain?"

Cool eyes gazed into his own. "Yes, Val?"

"May I give it a shot?"

Sten frowned before shrugging his shoulders. "Why not? You certainly couldn't make this any worse."

Val smiled. "Thanks, Captain."

Half in trance, he approached the sizable slab even as Halvar chuckled. "Good luck, lad. Just don't burst a vessel straining yourself, alright?

Absently Val nodded, but really, it was all so simple! It had to do with polarity. The flux of charge from both Psionic and Arcane origins. If he were to place his hands just so... and change the flow, much like spinning a lock right to the sweet spot so the tumbler just popped open...

And there it was. Val jumped back, reflexes as sharp as ever, as the slab's psionic and arcane orientations were shifted with a surge of Val's will, the massive stone suddenly crashing down so hard that floor tiles cracked.

Val blinked, coming out of his daze, the entire group favoring him with the strangest of stares.

Val swallowed and backed up, heart racing under the combined weight of those gazes. He held up his hands, fearing he had managed to offend Sten once more, gazing down at the stone. "I should have warned you all. I'm sorry. I just had a hunch..."

Sten pinned Val with his gaze, cold as ice, before slowly smiling, dipping his head slowly. "You did good, kid." He said not another word as he peered down to investigate, though Val found himself grinning like a sap, pleased to earn the captain's smile.

Sten straightened once more, expression as strange as Val had ever seen. "Did you know what would be back here?" He asked.

Val blinked and stepped back, having no idea what to make of the captain's odd gaze. "No, sir. I was just following my hunch. Something gave off a tingle. I sensed that when I was meditating, and the lock was easy to pop if you have the knack for it, which I guess I do."

Sten dipped his head, turning to Elise. "He's telling the truth, Sten," she said. "He has yet to lie to us, awkward as he is."

Without another word, Sten lifted what looked to be a flat box of shimmering obsidian, putting it on the ground before them as if afraid even he might drop it, before lifting the lid to the box. The entire crew gasped and whistled, Val blinking, curious as to what the prize was, seeing only what looked to be two exotic longsword hilts each slightly over a foot long, and two silver-gold handles attached to nothing.

Elise lurched back, caught by Sten before she stumbled. "Fire and Fury. Psiblades and shields. And the style, it's so old..."

Val swallowed, feeling a cold shiver caress his spine, recalling all too well Solena's serene smile, droplets of blood splashed upon her exquisite features as she lifted up the decapitated head of Yuri, blinking in the endless agony of undeath after he and close to a dozen other men were cleaved into pieces by the terrible blackness defined only by the crackling energies outlining the three foot long stream of oblivion emanating from her sword hilt. Exotic and strange, much like the pair in that obsidian box, though the hilt of Solena's weapon had been considerably shorter. More delicate, somehow. Perfectly suited for one-handed use. Yet it had torn through steel and flesh as if they gave no more resistance than the softest of breezes. As if the technology had somehow tamed black holes, cutting through the fundaments of reality itself.

"Ancester's mercy, those toys are worth more than all the liquid Silbium we found!" Gregor then frowned. "That is, if they work."

Elise's gaze hardened as she peered intently at the weapons. "Even broken, returning them to the dreadnought hovering above would earn us considerable favor, if we dared to take that path." She trembled and looked away. "I will stay down here, though, if you actually want to treat with them directly."

Sten grimaced. "They would be worth several million credits, even after a middleman's commission, if only they worked. And how likely is that, exposed to all the arcane radiations no doubt resonating through this place, once the home of wizards?"

Elise nodded. "But perhaps the entire purpose of this strange vault was to shield them?" She swallowed, gazing at Sten. "With your permission?"

He shrugged and nodded. With tender reverence, Elise gathered up one of the blades, holding it several feet away from them, slipping into a basic warding stance with strange solemnity, holding out the hilt as if she were holding the blade in Ochs, hypothetical point held straight in line for an imaginary opponent's throat before frowning in sudden concentration.

Endless breathless moments, before she sighed and shook her head. "It's dead, Sten. Let me try the others." And though Val held his breath in anticipation each time, all four artifacts were nonfunctional.

Sten sighed. "Such is the way with most artifacts like this. Oh well, we'll still make a pretty penny and some goodwill selling these remnants, once we manage to free ourselves." He turned to Val, this time favoring him with a nod of respect. "Well done, Val. There just might be steel worth forging in there somewhere."

Val grinned. "Then I will strive to strike, sharp and true, my blade forged by discipline and wisdom both."

Sten blinked and Val winced, afraid he had said just the wrong thing yet again, but Sten only smiled. "I don't suppose your nose has picked up the scent of any other lost treasures?"

"I'm afraid not, Captain."

Sten nodded once. "Then we'll be off. Come, Val. Have a sip of water, and let's be on our way."

Val smiled at that, shivering as an all too familiar voice spoke in his brain.

Arcane Perception Rank 2 achieved.

Psionic Perception Rank 2 Achieved.

Meditation Rank 3 successfully quantized.

- Thanks to your skill in meditation and your restless, wandering mind, you've managed to pick up the reverberations of potent artifacts trembling in the ether. Both arcane and psionic tools once called this library home, and you've found telltale signs of both.

Val blinked, realizing the words had once again imprinted themselves upon his psyche in an instant. He took a deep breath, grateful the strange psychic popups weren't overly distracting.

Val picked up his pace, having had enough of disappointing his boon companions. He was happy to hear all of them conversing animatedly, their spirits as high as he had ever seen them, now occasionally gazing his way with congratulatory nods, a refreshing change from their former pity or disdain.

He smiled and nodded back, footsteps already lighter, finding himself increasingly excited about what lay ahead. A whole world to explore, his body as strong and healthy as ever, and for the first time in half a year, completely free of pain. With sword and shield at his hip, Halvar's warm cloak once more wrapped about his frame, he was keenly aware of just how lucky he was at that moment, grateful simply to be alive.

Considering the odd properties of this universe, it seemed only proper to start his new life off with a dungeon delve, which he was dead certain was exactly what they faced, the five of them stopping before a bolted door of dead gray metal, radiating warning even Halvar seemed to sense, grimacing and shaking his head.

The giant sighed. "Do we really have to head through there, Captain?"

Sten smirked. "Why ask questions you already know the answers to?" He turned to Val. "Unless you magically sense some other way out of here?"

Val swallowed, about to shake his head, but then stilled himself. The captain's gaze was dead serious. "Give me a moment." He closed his eyes, feeling acutely embarrassed, but did his best to meditate, to feel himself float free.

Pinned by multiple gazes, acutely conscious of himself, the fugue that had come over him so easily before had been utterly ripped away. He grimaced and shrugged.

"There's your answer," Sten said to the giant among them, Halvar shrugging, gripping the handle of the door before them, easily pulling it open even as stone grated against stone.

Sten smirked. "At least that's one door we don't have to worry about closing behind us." His smirk turned to a grim stare as he beheld the dark passageway beyond.

Halvar turned to Gregor. "That settles it. When the luckiest Jack I know looks like he wants to be anywhere but where he is, I know it's time to start running and not look back."

Elise shrugged. "But there is nowhere else to go, Halvar. We can either face whatever horrors may or may not lay in wait, or we can sit here and gaze at each other as we slowly die of dehydration."

Halvar chuckled grimly. "When you put it like that, staring at your ugly mugs is not how I want to spend my last days." He then set foot down the corridor, piercing the gloom with a red light bobbing in front of him much like a lantern, all of them following closely behind.

11

"Val, how are your feet?"

Val flashed Elise a grateful smile, commanding his brain to forget how beautiful she looked with her locks knotted up in a tight bun, showing off her soft cheeks and the sensual curve of her throat, protected as it was by the shimmering mesh collar that made up the odd cross between a cloak and robe that she wore, similar to the one article of clothing Val himself wore, though hers looked far more graceful hugging her fully clothed curves than Halvar's cloak did hugging his frame, and thank goodness the sword and buckler belt Sten had loaned him along with his blade kept everything in place.

"My feet are actually okay. This corridor may be of dead black stone, but it is just as smooth as the marble-like stone chambers we just left. I used to train barefoot in both wrestling and swordplay, so my callouses are tougher than most peoples'. As long as we're not walking over jagged or slimy rock, I should be fine. At least, I hope so." He tried not to dwell too deeply on the brooding dark stone tunnel they presently traversed, lit only by dim red light seeming to emanate from the ether itself that Halvar was emitting to show the way.

Val frowned, somehow certain that some fundamental law of physics was at least being bent if not outright broken, before finally shrugging. Who was he to judge another reality's physics? Not after Highlords or Darklords or whatever those psion masters wanted to call themselves had poked inside his brain. That, Val, thought, was a definite no-no in any reality he understood. Then his cheeks flushed as he remembered the ten gallons of Liquid Silbion he, for all intents and purposes, had made vanish inside his own personal pocket universe, still able to feel it safely snug in some metaphoric ten by ten grid.

Elise's smile grew. "What in the world are you thinking about, Val?"

Val shrugged. "Certainly not on how dark and deep this tunnel is, or the tons of stone above us, or the fact that any game I've played where the heroes are adventuring underground, there's always something nasty waiting for them just ahead."

Gregor frowned. "You just had to say it, didn't you, Valor?" He sighed. "This is about as high a mana world as any in the Dominion. Quite frankly, I'd be surprised if we didn't run into any sentient manifestations of such. I mean, in addition to you, Val." He smirked, short feet windmilling at a rapid pace, keeping up with his larger friends.

Val chuckled softly. "Well, if I fade back to the ether and wake up back home once we leave this place entirely, I guess I'll be okay with that." He shrugged. "At least I got to enjoy a day utterly free of pain in my dream."

Soft violet eyes peered sadly into his own. "Even your dreams plague you with pain, Val?"

Val shrugged and nodded. "I'm afraid so, Elise. Those I'm aware of, anyway, but then it's almost a distant thing. As long as I accept it, I can enjoy the dream, one step removed from the pain still." He grimaced. "If I forget the trick of it, if I just focus on the pain, I wake up, hurting twice as bad as if I had just let myself flow with it."

Sten shook his head. "Sprung from the ether and the life imprinted was one of torment. You're a sorry case, Val. Good thing you fell in with us."

Val smiled. "You know what? All in all, I think it was. I hope you'll feel the same by the time we get out of here."

"If we get out of here in one piece, I'll consider you a well-met luck charm indeed."

Halvar abruptly stopped, his light growing deeper and dimmer. Val's eyes itched and burned. It was now all but dark, yet somehow he could still see. The ex-soldier raised his hand in a sign Val found strangely familiar, immediately flowing to his side. The man gave him a strange look before speaking. "Tunnels opening up into a natural chamber. Odd structure against the far wall of the chamber. And I'm picking up strange fluctuations. My blaster's equipped with surge breakers, civilian blasters are not. Gregor, you should hang back."

The gnome-like Gregor nodded his head of shaggy white hair, swallowing and patting his belt nervously. Val frowned.

The captain's voice, curt and cold washed over him. "He's an excellent shot. Wipe that look off your face."

Val grimaced. Somehow he always managed to piss Sten off. "Understood, sir."

"Better. We don't know what you're capable of, Val, but if you want to prove yourself, you'll take point with Elise. Halvar, Gregor, and I will stay out of surge range, lining up a bead with whatever may or may not be responsible for the fluctuations. We won't be firing like in the stories you see, but careful shots aimed only when we have clear line of sight. And if we say 'duck' you know to duck and roll away, we're blasting all out."

Val nodded, feeling a cold chill of apprehension mixed with exhilaration, acutely aware of the fine pebbling underneath his feet, the way his borrowed attire rubbed against his skin, the sword at his hip. Every sense was suddenly tingling and alive as the vast chamber ahead seemed to snap into focus, for all that Halvar's light was ridiculously dim.

Val blinked, seeing the vast chamber carved out of bedrock in its entirety, though dimly, even as the temple, for what else could it be? Seemed almost to glow with its own dark resonance, radiating potency in the ether so vibrantly he could see it like a glow, one that seemed to light up the entire chamber.

Immediately in front of that ancient structure stood several ghostly apparitions also radiating a white-crimson potency, hovering just in front of what truly seemed to be a massive cathedral complete with windows radiating a shimmering corona of energy, doors fit for giants complete with byzantine arches serving as portals to whatever secrets lay within.

Val swallowed as the strange, shimmering apparitions seemed to make note of their presence, one slowly floating across the massive chamber even as the other two stood sentinel outside the cathedral proper.

Magesight Rank 1 Achieved. - Thanks to your newly blossomed ability to sense arcane forces and fields, magic radiation now reflects and refracts from your third eye much like the sun does your normal two. Let there be light!

"Fire and Fury, I can't see a thing!" Gregor hissed.

Halvar frowned. "Damn, they've noticed us. No need for stealth, now." With that his sourceless crimson light flared up once more, and Val squinted, suffering a momentary headache as his mind spent precious seconds synergizing his normal sight with his Magesight, before settling on just giving the specters and cathedral a shimmering, otherworldly glow in addition to his normal vision.

"Val, you can't freeze! Move forward with Elise!"

Val swallowed and nodded at Sten's curt words, feeling his saber-like blade so like his favored 1796 light cavalry flow effortlessly into his hand, shield held low, blade held high and tilted slightly back, a guard that worked well with a cutting saber if you had a shield to lead. Val was running on pure instinct at that moment, terror and exhilaration coursing through him in equal measure as the strange, shimmering specter approaching their cluster before deliberately turning to close with Val.

Time seemed to slow as the hideous ghost of a living corpse moved, eyes milky-white, spirit flesh rotted through, the memory of lips eaten away to reveal a hideous ghostly grin.

The creature whispered words Val couldn't understand, it's mind an alien and strange thing indeed, if a mind it could be said to have at all.

"Val, look out!"

But Val's feet had dodged as fast as thought, such his reflexes had always been, somehow feeling the staticky pressure of forces building up, sensing the crackling release of arcane energies before the stream of fire roaring from the ghostly fingertip could touch him, even as it scorched the remarkably smooth stone that Val had been standing on just moments before.

"Clear!" Halvar roared. Val saw Elise jumping back, and Val kept backpedaling even as hot streams of blaster fire lanced through the ghostly specter to no effect. Even the hot pulse of lightning Halvar's military blaster sent streaking its way after a moment's buildup did no more than give it pause.

Gregor's voiced was laced with panic. "Ancestor's mercy, it's pure magic! Our weapons our worthless!"

Sten could be heard cursing, though he kept his cool, even as the strange specter turned to Val once more. "Don't panic, keep your cool. What about the potion that alchemist sold you?"

"We don't know if it's anything, it could be pure malarkey! I just bought it to analyze on the off chance there might be something resonating with the arcane in there!"

"Gregor, if there was ever a time to use a potion designed to protect against the undead, it's now! Just use a small quantity, we don't know how long it needs to last us."

Val didn't catch the rest of what was said, now focused intently on fighting for his life, even as he sensed the crackling energy of another fire pillar being launched.

He flashed a madcap grin. He had not felt a rush like this, pitting his life against another, his reflexes alone keeping him from peril, since he had last seen action, six months ago.

When the specter hissed its vile curse and the hot stream of flame roared through the air, Val had already pivoted, feeling the bow wave of building energies well before the creature released, for all that Val knew it had been close.

He risked a quick glance with Elise, his mind open, letting her know his plan.

Beautiful Violet eyes widened before she gave a curt nod. She understood. He would be bait, she would move in for the kill. He could only hope her blade's magic? Psionics? No, it was a weird combination of both, could somehow hurt this thing they faced.

"Val!" He lurched, precious moments wasted, the buildup of arcane energies already washing over him, Val barely rolling back as a stream of fire roared through the air, hissing as he felt a hot sting on his left shin, knowing there would be blisters later.

A bow wave of arcane force. Too bad he couldn't just push it away.

As fluid as thought he was on his feet once more, breathing controlled, heart racing with the exhilaration of it all. His ears rung, his tongue alive with the taste of copper and darkest glory.

His grin widened as the hideous undead face before him twisted in a scowl that transcended mortal hate, Val already springing to the side when yet another hot cone of deadly fire roared through the air.

Val immediately cried out, stumbling as his foot hissed and blistered, collapsing under his weight, having stepped on piping hot stone. His stumble turned to a desperate roll, somehow knowing that more hot flaming death would be streaming out of that creature. It was seconds before Val stopped his mad roll, desperately springing to his feet, bracing himself for the searing pain, grateful that his injured foot could still hold his weight.

Damn. He wasn't wearing any shoes! If he stepped where the creature had blasted the stone, he would pay in blisters and pain, assuming it didn't wreck his concentration and balance entirely.

And there the creature was, howling with darkest triumph, but feet away from Val who was gazing at the buildup of fiery power in strange fascination, realizing in that terrible epiphany that he almost understood what the creature was doing.

He could almost reach out in that stream of delicious, terrible possibility, like dipping a massive mug into a stream of cool refreshing ale, drinking deeply of that wonderful power.

"Val, duck!"

He blinked, reflexes alone saving him as he lurched back from hot death, clenching fists tight and somehow pushing back, his head now throbbing with sudden pain as he felt his mana quickly drain to ninety, knowing it wasn't reflexes alone that had saved him from becoming a very crisp Val.

A silver-blue blade streaked through the air.

The specter shrieked, a hideous cacophony that tore through Val's ears, for all that the others didn't seem to hear it at all. Val blinked, somehow sensing the specter's distress, peering as intently as he could at the silver-blue strands now flapping and broken, the specter lurching back, movements sluggish, even as it's cords of fire and gold remained.

It twisted around, now floating, albeit at a much-reduced pace, towards Elise.

Val trembled mind roaring with exultation and terror. He thought he could taste it. Magic and wonder like no game he had ever played before, like nothing he had ever experienced or even conceived of before as he dipped the cup of his will into the glorious streaming flow of wonder and possibility that was magic, filling his soul with hot, sweet flame, compelling it to roar forth from his fingertips in a stream of exultant fury, near perfectly matching the hideous specter's casting, even as he yelled at Elise to roll back.

Brilliant violet eyes widened and she arched back with a ballerina's grace as the ghostly lich was enveloped in hungry flames that seemed to tear and devour the strands of binding that held it to this realm, the awful specter fading away with a dying scream as Val crashed to his knees, crying out as the hot stone scalded him, dizzy and exhausted in ways he had never felt before, the smell of blood, singed flesh and fear thick on his tongue, and all he could do was grin with stupid sweet triumph.

Mageward Rank 1 achieved! - After nearly getting your gonads fried off staring at that specter like a deer caught in the headlights, you figured out how to push back just enough to avoid getting burnt to a cinder. Good thing you dodged simultaneously, or you would have pushed back just enough to enjoy an agonizing, prolonged death.

Arcane Discipline Creation Rank 1 achieved! - You have learned to dip your psyche into the streams of mana that flow through this world, creation being fundamental to all forces and fields sprung from quantum potentials or parallel realities!

Arcane Discipline Fire Rank 1 achieved! - You have begun the first step on the path to mastering the element of flame. Cities can be leveled and the course of history changed by such terrible fire. It can also be used to cook up a tasty dinner!

Arcane Discipline Manipulation Rank 1 achieved! - Congratulations, you have learned to dip your psyche into the streams of mana that flow through this world, control being key to harnessing and directing most magical manifestations! A master can direct the path of flame, or control the bodies of the living or dead to serve him as he wills.

Insight! Your Arcane Perception has allowed you to glimpse the inner workings of your first spell! To see is to know, for the Savant. You have witnessed Firestream cast 4 times and have successfully managed your first casting! Your first casting was an absolute success! Specters, having no shields of ego or flesh, are perfect teachers for a Savant to learn spells from, assuming they don't kill you in the process.

Spell learned: Firestream - You have basic competence in this spell. You have basic competence in the arts needed to cast this spell. At this time it will cost you 10 mana per casting. Extremely effective at destroying undead and summoned beings, it also inflicts moderate to severe burns against most opponents! Your spell will not kill quickly or cleanly, but a sobbing enemy whose had most of his face and torso charred off is unlikely to put up much of a fight!

Arcane Perception Rank 3 achieved! - You're even better at sensing the ebb and flow of magic. For example, seeing the matrix of power animating that wraith!

An endless pause, Val hardly notice that the chamber had gone completely dim. He exchanged gazes with a shocked looking Elise, seeing comfortably in the arcane spectrum once more, so bright did that cathedral glow. "We did it! We bloody did it!" Val hooted, euphoric and fatigued in a way he had never been before. Like an itch he had to scratch, he forced his brain to peer inward.

Mana 71/99... 72/99... hmm... it seemed that the arcane shield and firestream spell had both cost significantly more mana... perhaps double cost as it was the first time he had used either? Before he had fully 'quantized' their formulas and usage? He also caught sight of another bar. 'Personal Potency.' A dizzying serious of numbers flashed by so fast his eye couldn't register it clearly, so he metaphorically stepped back, seeing it as a slowly growing blue bar, shimmering brilliantly in his mind's eye. The speed of growth shifted, even the length seemed in flux, but Val was strangely certain he was gazing at his level-up bar. He shivered. His flight of fancy aside, he really didn't want to find himself trapped in a game, or a universe that had MMORPG written in the fabric of its very reality.

In that eyeblink of time since the specter silently shrieked and was no more and the flash of notifications he sensed in a heartbeat, Sten's furious curse washed over Val. He blinked, wondering what the problem was, finally registering Elisa's grave stare.

"Elisa?"

Elisa sighed and shook her head, gazing down at her shimmering blade. "We're fortunate that your magic didn't destroy my artifact, Val. This ancient relic is a piece of my past, and so isn't affected by arcane radiation like modern tech. It shows the link between Psions and Wizards as it's effectively an arcane artifact that happens to channel Psion energies to fuel its magic. The blade vibrates such that it can slice through even steel as if it were soft lead, flesh and bone parting almost as easily as it would be to slice through butter. Even arcane creatures will feel its bite, at least somewhat, no matter how inured to the sting of metal they may be." She shook her head bitterly. "My... 'master' let me keep my family heirloom, a bitter reminder of what I had aspired to be before I became his broken little toy. It is no match for a true Psiblade, of course, which could cut through anything, any metal or alloy or magic ward or person as if they were no more solid than the air we breathe. Had my keepsake been of any greater note, my tormentor would have claimed it quicker than he claimed my flesh."

Val winced and looked away, feeling embarrassed and awkward, having no idea what to do or say.

"The point is, Val, that we are lucky. Your spell didn't knock my blade's potency out of true. If I had an actual working Psiblade, it would now be as worthless as the relics we found in the library. As worthless as our friend's blasters are now, thanks to the wave of arcane radiation you unleashed with your spell!" Those final words said in bitter disappointment.

Val cringed and swallowed, feeling everyone's angry glare like a palpable thing. "What do you want me to say? Ten seconds ago I didn't know I could cast spells, five seconds ago I had no idea they would affect anything like an old magic/steampunk computer game!" He blinked, shaking his head helplessly. "Honestly, Elise, how was I supposed to know? All I knew was that blaster fire did nothing, that your blade had wounded it but could not kill it, and you were in trouble! That creature was veering toward you, Elise. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't let it hurt you!"

Elise flashed a bitter smile. "You're talking like a would-be hero. An idealist knight in Valorium armor ready to save some helpless damsel. I wasn't helpless, Val, and it's far too late to save me from anything."

Val locked gazes with her, hiding nothing. "Bullshit. You were in trouble. It doesn't matter that I've only known you for a couple of hours. I... care about you. I did what I could. I'm not going to apologize for that. I'm only sorry that the freakish laws of this place knocked out our friend's weapons!"

Elise shook her head. "You're an idiot," she whispered, voice soft and strange.

"Val, what the hell did you do?" Sten, gazing at him with as much ire as ever. "Why the hell didn't you warn us? What are we supposed to do now?"

"Captain, stop. Two other specters are approaching." Halvar's voice, cold and firm as any soldier's, free of his normal bonhomie. In one fluid motion he drew his wicked blade, more Zweihander than longsword, the type of weapon used on ancient battlefields that would meet pike and polearm on equal footing, shattering shafts of wood before cleaving and butchering even armored foes. He held the massive blade like Val would a longsword, such was the advantage of his seven-foot powerfully built frame. Even fully armored, a knight hit with that weapon on the skull or neck would probably perish even if it couldn't pierce steel. The concussive force alone would snap bones, break necks, and crush skulls.

Val grimaced, realizing that for all its majesty, unless it glowed with the strange matrix of silver and blue energies that Elise's did even as he felt her Psionic force somehow catalyzing her own magical blade, the massive Zweihander was all but useless.

Sten caught Val's gaze, as intense as he had ever seen him. "Forget the lasers, Val. You and Elise are our one shot! Tag team the pair and bring them down!"

Val felt the captain's intensity, his own resolve invigorated, nodding his head once, just as he would have his former CO. He turned to Elise "Flank and harry the leftmost one. Draw it away but don't let it corner you. I'll take the rightmost one and flank and circle right." Elise blinked but Val didn't give her time to argue, as the rightmost specter began to close.

His body trembling with nervous energy, he flashed his teeth.

"Hello, Death. Couldn't kill me on the field of war, couldn't end me when I was primordial goo. Think you can take me down? I'll fuck the hell out of you!"

The specter blinked one ghostly eye, silvery maggots flowing from the corrupted socket. Val did not hesitate, shouting as he shot his arm forward, reveling in the curious sweet rush of strange crimson gold power coursing through him, feeling it build and build like a terrible aching climax of fury before roaring forth in a blazing stream of fire, washing over the suddenly screaming specter who tried to float back, but a furious Val propelled himself forward, refusing to let his foe get away. "Take that, you goddamned bloody fuck!"

The creature's howling shrieks left Val dizzy even as it faded out of being completely, and Val reveled in the sweet dark rush of power coursing through him, even as he tripped and fell on his ass.

"Ouch, goddamn that smarts!" Val hissed, frowning to see blood pouring from his scraped knee. Snapped back into the moment, a terrible weight of dread filling him as he heard a desperate cry.

He hissed and jerked his head up. Elise, swinging desperately, tearing through the specter that was laughing, laughing as it raked hideous claws across her arm, Elise pinned into a corner, the specter not stopping as Elise's blade could only snap half the chords of its being. And she was going to die in agony and it was Val's fault, and he said he would protect her, another girl gazing up at him with desperate eyes and he couldn't staunch the blood and he swore he wouldn't let her die, swore he'd protect her family, but who was he to rail against fate and shrapnel when his own country bombed a shanty town just trying to survive and how her father had looked at him with bitter hate, and nothing Val ever did would make up for that. Nothing, and Val screamed as he grabbed Elisa's shrieking form, too furious to feel the hellish chill of the specter's touch as he shoved Elisa into a panicked Sten's arms, shouting them both back, and Val roared as the hideous specter gleefully sunk his icy claws into his flesh and the hideous pain was nothing compared to being burned alive, nothing at all, and how Val would make this thing burn!

Howling as he felt himself fill with hot pain and bitter fury, filled with FIRE that roared through him, through his whole being, pain not distracting him but catalyzing him as he dipped his whole psyche into the flow of deadly magma that was the essence of flame, and how he BURNED the screaming wraith as fire tore through the hideous abomination, the pair of them exploding in crimson fury as Val roared with the triumph of a dying phoenix killing its prey even as he himself collapsed to the ground, a gasping, heaving wreck.

Insight gained! When the guilt is too much and you can't stand the screams of everyone who died under your watch, why not embrace Explosive Retribution? Let's all burn together! Only a madman would commune with such terrible magics, accepting the backlash to follow, and you're luckier than you deserve, Val, surviving to tell the tale.

Spell learned: Explosive Retribution. Level 30 Creo/Ignem dependent. (Too high a level for you, but when has that ever stopped you before?) Must save against Oblivion when embracing this spell. Cost (at your rank) 70 mana. Tip to the wise... don't cast this again until you're much more powerful. As if you'll listen. Ha ha.

Val shook and sobbed, vomiting as waves of agonizing dizziness washed over him, his gut clenching and heaving absolutely nothing, as he had not eaten since he had popped into existence, hours ago.

"By the gods. What did you do?"

Halvar, gazing down at Val. His face void of all emotion. Val shook all the harder, utterly spent, vulnerable, at the mercy of people who for all Val knew, wanted him dead. And honestly, would that be so bad? The hideous burning rippling through him was ungodly. He chuckled bitterly as he soon grew to accept the pain. Horrifically familiar, a stalker of old haunts that would never truly leave him be.

"I've never seen, I've never even heard of magic like that before." Gregor gazed at Val as if he were some fascinating prize. That or a hideous creature famed for exotic poisons, captivated by and loathing Val all at once.

"Yes, you have." Sten's voice, cold. Dispassionate. Or perhaps just tired. "He's a natural adept. He has to be. Or the reincarnation of whatever archmage called the villa above home. For all we know, it's only thanks to creatures like him that the Dominion rules this world with such a light touch. Bait the bear too hard, and you always run the risk it will strike back even if it kills him, and then your victory is Pyrrhic at best, when everything you fought to seize is going down in flames alongside your foe."

Val shook and moaned, even as the others gazed down.

"Stop it. Just stop it! Stop looking at him like that! He's a person, not a thing, and in case you didn't catch it, he risked his neck trying to save me!" The others blinked at Elise's words.

"Stupid kid," she whispered. "There's no such thing as heroes. Not really. Out there he would have been killed, had he dared to stick his neck out for whatever girl or boy the Darklords would claim as their own."

Sten spat. "He almost caught you in that damn blaze of his, and our blasters are now worthless. Halvar's mechware is down, so damn bright did that kid's magic blaze! Our chief security specialist now only has the use of one eye, thanks to him. We're lucky Halvar chose to go light with the mechware, sticking with biomeshes instead, or he'd be dead right now."

"It's not Val's fault! We didn't explain anything to him, and you made it damn clear he was to do everything he could to protect the group, taking point! Besides, you've been hounding him since the minute he came to! Why, Sten, does he remind you of someone? Someone you used to be before you got hard and cynical, realizing just how awful this galaxy really was, not a heroic tale to be found in it at all, no matter how damned lucky you are?"

Gentle hands reached down, touching Val's shoulders. He screamed in pain.

-Stop it- she hushed into his mind. -You're feeling backlash. You need to stop clenching so hard. You need to relax. Let go.-

Val opened his eyes, captivated by gentle orbs of violet, allowing himself to sink into their embrace as he breathed deep and sighed, doing his best to float away, imagining himself on a raft floating through gentle seas with the sun softly shining upon his sleepy form.

Then the crack of thunder, clouds heavy with grim tidings. An icy cold rain pelted into his weary soul. Memories, experiences, flashes of insight and potency not his own. Become his own, as insights gleaned into the inner workings of this reality crashed into him like a great wind of potential ever further on his journey, the tormented souls of spirits slain suddenly roaring through him... all their potential, all that they had ever been or could be. Not to be lost in meaningless heat death and dissolution but rather transformed, melding into every fiber of his being. Rewriting him. Redefining him. Making him something alien, strange, different.

His true self, emerging free at last from the shell within which he had been forged.

A world lost, a new identity gained.

You have gained one level! Or such an explanation will suffice for the massive quantizations that have infused your being since the moment you claimed awareness by a single act of will in a freak series of events as unlikely as creation itself, mirroring the mind and memories of a soul long dead. Reborn again only in the bittersweet memories you ascribe to a boy who died in a universe alien and strange. You, sentience, forged yourself on the passions and drive of one flawed boy desperate to save a girl forever beyond his reach. And now you are the combined stories of every spirit to fall to your blade, of every insight you have gained in forging yourself anew.

You are the memory of Valor Hunter... and you are so much more.

Congratulations! You have reached level 2. And now the catalyzation unavoidable shall occur. That which changes is an echo of what has always been, for cause and effect flow both ways in the quest for quantized harmony.

Val screamed as pain beyond pain rippled through him, that terrible blue bar he had so foolishly, so idiotically, reveled in seeing get closer and closer to full was at last overflowing.

Val was drowning within awful seas roaring and crashing, the howling screams of uncountable souls tearing through his psyche, and in a dreadful moment of epiphany he realized that if he gave into his grief, his despair, the pain wracking him, he would be lost forever, and another would take his place, would be and would always have been him, he just a figment of memory aiding its own creation.

NEVER!

Fury burned through despair. The soft gaze of a girl whose warm smile and gentle laugh had awoken such protective instincts somehow anchored him. He shuddered to think what had happened to her in the time he had been lost, however long that had been. Somehow he could fathom her even here, and like a specter of possibility shimmering on the stratospheric horizon, he sensed without seeing a vast, terrible dreadnought floating in gentle orbit, high above.

And Val gasped, though he had no body, sensing in that moment the screams emanating from a beautiful, fragile mind, ruthlessly plundered by a sentience strange and cold, feeding upon her like a ripe fruit, slowly draining her precious fragile life away, drop by drop.

Exultation and horror rung through Val as he crashed back into his body.

Julia was alive. And her soul was shrieking in unthinkable pain.

"My name is Valor Hunter and this life is mine! I claim it, all that I am, all that I was, all that I could ever be!" With that desperate shout ringing through his soul, Val crashed into himself once more, finding his mind and body reforged anew. Claiming those changes as his own, the changes he himself had retroactively made, who he had always been.

Skills could be learned. He even seemed to have a knack for it. What he chose to reforge, what he had reforged, was himself. Nothing seemed so important as his ability to influence his own destiny. His own reality. Willpower was representative of his focus. He had always been strong in resolve and temperament, and these trials would only make him stronger. (+1 Willpower, 1 of 7 points spent). Charisma, the gravity of the soul. How important you were to others, and as a corollary, how well you could sense their needs in turn. Val cared about others. He wanted to understand them better, and he wanted to matter to them in turn. (+1 to Charisma, 2 of 7 points spent). And luck, the final trait dealing with finding one's path through the universe. Whereas Willpower meant finding your own path, and Charisma was others taking an interest in the tale of your life, Luck was the universe itself taking an interest. And it would hardly care at all, so vast and indifferent it was. But if one measly point could avert a slowly building tidal wave of folly that might otherwise hit, awful mischance you never even saw coming? Val couldn't imagine not putting a point there. Had always put a point there. He had always been a bit luckier than he had thought. (+1 to Luck. 3 of 7 points spent).

Insight 17. Flashes of intuition and brilliance when everything suddenly clicked into place, when one blinked, seeing patterns, wondrous and strange, that perhaps a dozen smarter students racing to memorize materials had completely overlooked. How good it felt, those times his teachers would raise their eyebrows in surprise and give a thoughtful nod, no doubt reevaluating the quiet kid in back who never scored that well on tests, but sometimes understood the deeper picture far better than his peers. There was no way he could boost this, it was a fundamental part of his being. But the more perceptive he was, the better he would be at seeing all the pieces of metaphoric and literal puzzles, to say nothing of spotting trouble before it hit.

Val could only hope increased alertness might help him understand his newest companions just a bit better. (+1 to Perception. 4 of 7 points spent.) He knew as well that the better he was at organizing and recalling lessons learned and the details of the daily experiences that defined him, the better off he would be. He had always wanted to learn faster, to concentrate better, to have a recall that could do his father proud. Perhaps it was just a matter of clearing his mind. Perhaps he had always had the potential, once the clutter of constant distraction was replaced with an ability to concentrate. To focus. Perhaps his meditation had helped him do more than just manage pain. (+1 to Scholarship. 5 of 7 points spent.)

Val was amazed by the strange skills that seemed to come to him so naturally since he had awoken, when so much of academia caused him nothing but headaches. He sensed he had a knack for this field of study as he did few others, so instead of focusing on specific spells or arcane arts, he meditated upon his raw potential, realizing his Mana and Psion pools had always been larger than he had first thought. (+10% to Mana, +10% to Psion, compounded. 7 of 7 points spent).

Val smiled, pleased with his greater sense of self, the awful vision of but moments ago now no more than the troubling echoes of a quickly forgotten dream. For he had claimed and defined himself utterly, and never had he felt so strongly connected to his destiny and potential than he did at that moment.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Valor Hunter - Level 2

Primary Attributes

Strength 12

Vitality 13

Finesse 13

Quickness 16

Perception 17

Scholarship 11

Willpower 16

Charisma 10

Luck ?? +1

Health 10xVit+Str = 142

Survival (Health+(10xLevel)+Luck) = 162+?

Stamina 10xVit+Str= 142

Mana 110 (109 Accessible: 5.520 kg Elementium Stored)

Psion 110 (109 Accessible: 37.8 L Silbion Stored)

Insight 17

Base Appearance 10. +0 (10 charisma) +1 (athletic) = +1 to reaction rolls.

Skills of Significance

Shadowmind Rank 2 / Psionic Perception Rank 2 / Arcane Perception Rank 3 / Cypher Rank 1 / Meditation Rank 3 / Rift Mastery Rank 1 / Psionic Oathbinding Rank 1 / Sword and Shield Rank 2 / Magesight Rank 1 / Mageward Rank 1

Greater Skills Learned

Greater Alchemy - Rank 1

Jordian Magical Arts Learned

Creation - Rank 1

Manipulation - Rank 1

Fire - Rank 1

Jordian Spells Learned

Firestream Level 20 C/F - Cost 10 Mana

Explosive Retribution Level 30 C/F (Must save against Oblivion when casting.) - Cost 70 mana

______________________________________________________________________________________

He smiled at the conceit of visualizing his essence as a character sheet, carefully studying his spells. If he had to guess, C stood for creation, F for fire, and both were needed for the spells he had learned so far. Somehow he sensed that each rank earned in both a magical element and the method of using that element would let him cast five levels worth of spell near effortlessly. He could push and safely cast a spell up to ten levels higher at full mana cost. For an even higher level spell, like Explosive Retribution, it seemed like there was a significant mana penalty and considerable risk.

He knew the character sheet was just a mental shortcut, and still wasn't sure if the voice he heard in the back of his mind was himself, or the universe speaking through him, or a future version of himself commenting on his growth. In the end he realized it didn't matter. He was just grateful for the assist, delivered in a paradigm that as a gamer he could readily understand. Unlike anything he had ever experienced on Earth, here the forging of his character was simply uncovering who he really was.

12

"You awake yet, kid?"

Val groaned, head still throbbing, gazing up with bleary eyes at a concerned looking Sten. The look was gone so quick he wondered if he had imagined it, Sten's now stern countenance shaking his head. "That was damn stupid, boy. We're lucky as hell we didn't lose you and Elise both, and most of our blasters are not good for much else save slag at the moment." His brows furrowed. "Why didn't you tell us you were a Jordian mage?"

Val rubbed his brow. "I'm sorry, Captain, I didn't know I was capable of anything until I saw the buildup of mana, I guess you call it? And it all just sort of, well, clicked."

"It did more than click," Elise said, gently messaging Val's temples. "You risked your life to save mine. I don't know what to say to that, except... thank you."

Val felt his cheeks flush, feeling strangely awkward. He was no innocent, but strangely, in this place and time, he really did feel like a kid, still wet behind the ears with so very much to learn. "Consider it thanks, Elise."

"Thanks, for what?"

"For giving me a chance." He raised his gaze to meet the captain's own. "Thanks to all of you, for giving me a chance, and not leaving me there to die."

Sten frowned and looked away. "Gregor, what's taking so long with the maintenance?"

"I don't know Captain, maybe this would go faster if Val hadn't fried all our guns save yours, and knocked out Halvar's eye while he was at it!" grumbled Gregor, the small gnomish man hunched over the warrior's massive gun, gently finessing it with a pair of tiny metallic instruments.

Halvar, strangely, seemed less irritated than the mop of frizzy hair currently tweaking his laser carbine. "It's not that big a deal, at least in my case. This is military grade, so the mana-electromagnetic routers all use quantized magnets as circuit breakers. And if you'd just focus on recalibrating my eyepiece, I can tweak my carbine just fine."

"Yes, but you always get the calibration slightly off, and the buzz gives me a cursed headache," Gregor grumbled. "And my blaster's only good for slag at this point. It's only because you left your merc corp in good standing, with an open invitation to come back, that you even have a permit to carry military grade hardware at all."

Halvar grinned at that. "Every advantage, Gregor, is a blessing." He turned to Val, his face free of any anger, despite the chrome socket temporarily free of his optic enhancement. "How are you feeling, kid? You look a damn sight better, that's for sure."

Val grinned. "Like I just did battle with undead revenants and nearly killed myself in the process." His smirk turned thoughtful. "Strangely, I feel pretty much fine. Not sure why. I thought I was a bit banged up there?"

Halvar's bemused gaze turned serious. "You were. Covered in scrapes and burns. Some of them from your own casting." He pointedly focused his one good eye on Val's legs, where Val remembered most viscerally taking injury.

Val felt a curious chill race up and down his spine. His legs were completely free of any blemish or burn.

"Mind if I ask you a question, Val?"

Val smiled at the powerfully built mercenary. "Not at all, Halvar. Ask away."

"Are you even human?"

Silence. Val swallowed in the sudden tension, suddenly acutely aware of Elise's hands, no longer massaging throbbing temples, utterly still.

And in perfect position to snap his neck.

She hissed and stepped back.

Damn. Val felt an acute flash of embarrassment. She was an empath, and he wasn't hiding his thoughts in that odd icy state he used to embrace before carrying out his missions, once upon a time. Embracing Shadowmind, as they seemed to call it here. He was just Val at that moment, his mind as open as anyone's.

"That you would even think it."

Val winced. "I'm sorry, Elise, I... well, in my old life, death was something we learned to see everywhere." He swallowed and looked away. "Please don't be mad, Elise. I can't help how my mind is wired."

"Do you really think I would hurt you, after what you did to save me?"

Val winced, too embarrassed to face her gaze. "No, Elise, I don't. It's just... you were in the perfect position to end me, if I was deemed a threat." He sighed. "It's hard to put this into words, but where I'm from, the life I used to live, you had to compartmentalize things. You could feel fierce camaraderie for the people you fought beside, the natives that would assist my companions and I with our... unorthodox assignments. But you still had to be ready. You could love the brother-in-arms they presented themselves as, but if they turned out to be other, you had to be ready to see the serpent before you and strike, all feelings of brotherhood pushed aside when you realize it's a mask hiding a deeper design."

"And did that ever happen, Val?" Elise's voice had grown soft. "Did someone wearing the mask of friendship betray you?"

Val nodded. "A time or two. Locals our CO assured us were trustworthy were assigned to our unit." His smile turned bleak. "Something in their eyes. The way they moved. It was just off. We laughed and traded jokes, but I made sure the others knew. When they began to position themselves to make their move, we had already flanked them. It was over soon enough."

Elise frowned. "That's not what you're really thinking of, Val. Your psyche... it tastes of bitter hurt."

Val closed his eyes, shaking his head. "It wasn't betrayal so much as tragedy. A girl I let myself love, once. Back when I was in high school... she looked past the shy boy that hid in computer games and reenactment. The kid who thought swords were cooler than football, and could perform moulinets far better than he could throw a pass. She smiled the one time she saw me fence. She said it actually looked kind of cool, though she laughed if I asked her if she wanted to learn." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "We shared our dreams, the secrets we kept close to our hearts. For a time we were very close."

He closed his eyes, blinking away hot tears that stung just as sharply as they had when he had gazed at her parents during the funeral, teardrops mixing with the rain, and whoever said water didn't have a scent, knew nothing. It did. Sharp and fresh, mixing with dirt and loam, and the tears of a family mourning the daughter they had loved, before she was torn away from them forever.

"What happened, Val?" Elise's voice, an endless distance away.

Val clenched his fists as memory's rain poured down. "She... she went back to him. The guy who she had left after he had beaten her, refusing to press charges when he had broken down and sobbed, begging her not to destroy his future. She... showed him that final grace, never spoke a word of it, though I know her parents knew. Must have known. But she never told anyone what exactly had happened except for me. She was so ashamed."

Val sighed. "Her gaze was so sad, like she was swept up by something beyond her control. She swore to me he was different now, that he had changed, made amends, that he was better now. So... she left me. And it broke my heart. And there was nothing I could do to save her." He broke free of Elise's gaze, desperate to push away the awful memory. Private pain he would share with no one.

But it was already too late.

Her parent's sobs, piercing his heart, even now.

The hot searing rage that had made his tears so bitter, dripping unheeded in the rain.

Then he went home with nothing but bitter anger burning through him.

It didn't matter that the police report had ruled it a random mugging gone bad, a tragic accident, her boyfriend sobbing at the funeral even then, fine cashmere gloves protecting his hands from the rain.

Val had met the powerfully built quarterback's unguarded gaze before he quickly looked away.

He had seen the bitter smile on Terrance's lips.

It was all he needed to know.

Ice in his veins, fury in his heart. Classes meant nothing. He didn't even bother studying for the tests. When Terrance passed him in the hallway after that, his gaze showed nothing but grief, just a boy morning for his dead girlfriend, a sympathetic girl already on his arm.

Val made no eye contact, never said a word to or about Terrance to anyone.

Nothing anyone could look back later on and see a connection Val didn't want seen.

Terrance's parents were rich. The boy would never work a day he didn't want to. He was already the man of the house when his parents left town to snap up more real estate with their oldest son working at their father's side. No one cared that he partied, so long as he kept it under control. And party he did. Frequently. And the electric company had planned brownouts as they upgraded their hardware, frequently. Any fool could go online and download their schedule, a common enough item downloaded by half the students at the school.

Val shivered, lost in memory. The streets had been near empty when the lights had gone out, and no one had thought twice of the late night jogger, wearing reflective bands so any rider could see him, hiding in plain sight, for all that his bike was conveniently hidden in bushes. Preparation for what was to come.

The block was quiet save for Terrance's party, tunes still blaring, thanks to a generator good for that much, though otherwise the house was lit only by candles and a strobe light.

No one in sight. Climb the trellis just as he trained climbing the ropes at school. Window opening, no one to be seen. Gloves on, reflective gear stowed.

The security cameras and alarms were down, along with the power. It was nothing to slip inside, traversing dark corridors, carefully stepping past end tables of exotic wood with their exquisitely carved figurines of ivory and jade, just shadows in the dark. Much like him, mind empty of all fury, all thought. A force of nature as inevitable as death itself.

Slipping into a room he just knew was Terrance's, even as the house below partied. Slipping into his closet, cover story in place should it be needed, tools safely hidden within, not on him at all.

Hours passed. Power out still, and Val did not tire, did not lose focus, did not break out of that eerie trance.

A pounding on the door. Quickly opened. Drunken voices turning to soft entreaties, ragged breathing, hungry kisses.

Cries of passion eventually tearing through the night, before fading into giggles and sighs.

"You good, babe?"

"Yeah, sugar. You hit me in all the right spots. Here's some candy for you. You get home safe now."

Loud snorting cut through the darkness. "Yes! Goddamn yes. You sure you want me to go home, honey? We could party all night with this shit."

A dark chuckle. "At least you know how to party, Jade. You go have a blast. Don't fuck anyone I don't know."

Throaty laughter at that. "Thanks for the good time, Terrance. You call me any time you want to freak."

A shut door, and silence at last. No creaking of boards or other pressure did Val sense, save the front door slamming shut as Jade left. Utter stillness. If anyone remained, it seemed they were already passed out.

Heart racing, Val slipped out of the closet, the smell of sex and coke still lingering in the air.

Val slipped free his gun into one gloved hand, notebook and pen in the other.

He pressed the barrel against Terrance's temple.

The football player, only just dozing off, jerked awake, eyes wide with panic. "What the fuck? Who the hell are you? Terrance's blue eyes widened. "Jesus fucking Christ, why do you have a gun? Why are you in my room?" He raised his suddenly panicked hands. "Look, look man, no need to stress this shit, alright? You want to rob me? Well fuck it, payday for you, man. The figurines in the hallway? They're all jade and ivory. A hundred grand worth of shit my mom just leaves out in the open. I told my peeps it's all fake, and no one's taken a single piece."

He flashed a terrified grin. "Honest, man, it's a hundred grand, and you get to walk away clean as a whistle. I'll tell her my friends stole it, she'll catch a fit but she'll get over it, and best of all you're rich, man. You could party for a year or more on that money and not worry about a thing."

"Why, Terrance?"

Terrance blinked. "What the fuck?"

"Why did you kill her?"

Terror turned to confusion and fear. "Wait, what the hell... oh no, oh shit, Val, is that you? Look man, I didn't do shit. You can ask the coroner, you can ask the goddamn chief of police."

Val's smile was ice. "The chief your father helped elect? Who just received a fat contribution if you know where to look in the records? Or how about the DA who your dad went to school with? Justice truly is blind, Terrance."

Terrance's lip curled, fear turning to fury. "Listen, you little shit, I did nothing, nothing! Are you really going to kill me? You didn't say a word to me, not a goddamned word every time we passed in the hallway. If you had a problem, why the hell did you say nothing?"

Now it was Terrance who was clenching fists. "You little fucking shit! You were screwing her the whole goddamned time, weren't you? I knew that bitch was cheating on me! I knew it! And did I beat the crap out of you? Did I break every bone in your body? No, Val, I didn't, because you were just a pawn, and you didn't even know it! She was playing you to get to me and it worked. Alright, Val? It worked!"

Val blinked, a jolt of icy uncertainty giving him pause. He peered into Terrance's baby blues, pleading and furious all at once.

"I can pay you, Val." He licked his lips. "Look, man, I don't really give a shit you even being here. As far as I'm concerned? This never even happened. Just put down the gun, go downstairs, fix yourself a drink and go home. Okay?" He swallowed. "Fuck it, Val, take the figurines while you're at it. They really are worth a hundred grand, and I got ten thousand in my dresser right there."

Val flashed a bleak smile. "Right next to the coke?"

"Yes, goddamn it, right next to the coke! I like to party once in awhile, my friends do too." He shook his head, wry smirk in place. "Take the coke while you're at it. Good high, and if you're not partying like crazy, it will last you easy til the end of the semester." He swallowed, taking a shuddering breath. "Look, we both lost someone we cared about. We're both a little bit fucked up right now. I get it, I really do. Let's just put this shit behind us, and I'll be helping you out, here on in. Helping out a guy on the team, you know what I'm saying?"

His gaze turned desperate. "Come on, Val. I'm begging. Look, you were right about one thing, my dad really does have friends in high places. We'll scour the goddamned town for that fucked up killer, and the chief won't rest till that bastard is found. What do you say, Val? Open invite to all my future parties, lots of girls who'll be more than happy to help us both forget the girl we loved."

Val blinked, thinking fast, oddly off balance until his roving eye caught sight of the small band hung like a necklace on a string over the top point of the fine glass mirror on Terrance's desk.

Uncertainty turned to fury, hid in a cordial nod. "Okay." Terrance's sigh of relief was so great he looked ready to collapse. "That's great, man, that's fucking fantastic! Seriously, just check the top drawer. The coke and cash are in the back left corner, in the cigar box. But um, please man, only grab the figurines if you're really tight. They're yours, but if you take em, my parents will never let me host a party again."

He swallowed and grimaced, Val's gun still aimed at his heart. "But that's no biggie. You're invited to any future parties you like, free drugs and all, and Jade, man, that girl is hot. Get her a little loaded and she'll love you like a demon. So, um, welcome to the crew and all that. Now, how about we put the gun down, Val? Or at least, not aim it straight for my heart and shit." Terrance flashed a desperate smile. "Damn, Val, I thought you were just a gamer. Didn't realize you had a touch of badass to you."

Val nodded. "The money's fine. Don't worry. I don't want your mother's figurines. I'll tell you what I do want, though. I want something that covers my ass. So I won't find the police waiting for me when I get home, with a police chief more than happy to see me jailed for life, threatening the golden boy here."

Terrance shook his head frantically. "No way, man. No way. That's not how I roll. Fuck, man, do you know how busted I'd get if this shit got out of hand and I'm caught dealing? Even if my dad got me off with a slap on the wrist, goodbye freedom, hello boarding school in the boondocks, my mom's favorite threat if my shit gets out of hand."

Val nodded, even as he pulled out a bottle of pills and a small flask of rum. "I get that. Still, I need to cover my ass. Tell you what. Write a confession, I'll hold onto it, and as long as you're square with me, it will never see the light of day." He flashed a cold smile. "After all, I don't want to kill my future coke connection, do I?"

Terrance paled, trembling as he nodded his head. "Okay, I... sure, man. What do you want me to write?"

Val told him. Terrance blinked, eyes blazing for one hot second before he shook it away, wincing as he wrote, and Val noticed how awkwardly he held his pen.

"You know, you might want to get that looked at," Val said, carefully eyeing the notebook and Terrance at the same time. His smile was ice. Terrance had followed his first order to the letter. As planned.

Terrance flinched, instinctively holding his right hand with his left. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Val shrugged. "Here. A travel sized bottle of ibuprofen and some rather fine rum. Shit, man, I'm almost spoiling you, giving you this."

Terrance frowned. "What the fuck, man. You got the note, what are you trying to do? A handful of ibu's might make me sick, but it's not going to kill me. Shit, if it gave you any kind of buzz at all, it wouldn't be for sale at every damn store in the country. All it's good for is numbing toothaches and shit like that."

Val nodded. "I know. But if you're loaded on booze and your guts are hurting from your mom's cabinet meds, you aren't going to come after me before I get home and hide this note. And the fact that it looks like you tried to off yourself in a fit of remorse is going to look good when I counterclaim that you made a teary-eyed confession to me, begged for forgiveness, then had second thoughts when I fled."

Terrance frowned. "Shit, man, covering your ass something fierce." He shook his head, nervous swallow betraying the cavalier toughness he tried to project. "Fuck. That's pretty clever, Val." He flashed an almost pleading grin. "You're a hell of a lot cooler than I took you for. Damn, Val, it will be good to have a badass like you partying with us." He pointed to the dresser as he swallowed the pills, washing it down with some rum. He grimaced before blinking. "This shit is pretty good, man."

Val nodded. "I know. It's the best. I was hoping it would go down like this. Since I'm not going to have to shoot you, drink up, and thanks for the ten grand. Now you can't say I didn't extort you in style."

Terrance's laughter was full of relief. He shook his head and drunk deep. "Shit, man, you really had me going there!"

Val smiled, taking the cash, making sure Terrance saw it, knowing it would put him at ease.

"Every party, Terrance. Set me up with girls who like a good time."

"Fuck yeah," he nodded, all sincerity. "Jade's my favorite, but I know a couple of other girls who like to freak just as hard. Asian, Hispanic, White, you just say the word, my man, I can find your flavor."

Val shrugged. "We'll see. How is your knuckle feeling, by the way? I see how you flinch with it sometimes. Did the ibuprofen at least knock the pain out?"

Terrance smirked. "It's only been two minutes, Val. You don't know sports injuries. Drugs don't work that fast. Not unless you're snorting them or shooting up, and nose candy is as far as I go." He took another sip of rum. "Damn, that's fine."

Val nodded. "Hey, that ring on your dresser? Real nice. Is it real?"

Terrance grew still, smile fading. He swallowed, looking flustered. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think it is. I, I found it cleaning my room the other day. I think it was from one of the girls, but I'm not sure. Do you want it? It's yours, man, just say the word."

Val looked at the ring with the tiny diamond and smiled sadly, struck by thoughts of Christine's beautiful grin back when she had taken his promise ring, holding him so tightly, so fiercely to her.

Never had he felt so happy, so complete, as the day she put on that ring, a promise of the love they felt, the future they might one day share together.

Now kept as a keepsake, a prize by the man who had killed her.

There was no other explanation.

It had surprised and humbled Val when he saw her still wearing the ring when walking with Terrance, and the strange, sad smile she gave him when he stared at her, pressing it against her heart even then, her other hand held by the football player glaring at Val with such disdain. So different from the desperate, pleading look he wore now.

That had been the day before her death. She had been wearing it then. And it had been missing from her broken body when she was found in the dead of night, dumped in the woods like an unwanted piece of meat. Pure freak chance had revealed her after only a handful of hours, the woods as much park as not, joggers out in that normally peaceful area before dawn, and never molested before.

Terrance was gazing at Val strangely, a huge yawn cracking from his lips. "Listen, man, take it, it's no biggy. You're staring kinda intent, you know?"

Val's gaze did not waver. "We both know whose ring it is."

Terrance flinched. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the ring you tore from her dead finger. I'm talking about the cracked knuckle you've been doing your best to hide. Your passes weren't shit, last game of the season, and there's a damn good reason why you haven't gone to a doctor for it."

Terrance blinked. "You don't know what the fuck you are talking about." His voice was raw. "I loved her, Val. I fucking loved her a hell of a lot more than you did!"

Val's clenched fist trembled as it all clicked into place. Christine's increasingly erratic behavior, the way some days she'd sweep him off his feet with passion, dreamy, for lack of a better word. Or so he wanted to think. And how she seemed so anxious, almost panicked that last days they were together. How she had cried like he was the one breaking up with her, saying she had to leave him. How sorry she was. Goddamn. It all made sense. He wished it didn't.

"Christine was another one of your party girls, wasn't she?"

Terrance's gaze hardened. "Let it fucking, go, Val. She wasn't any straight-laced virgin when she came to your bed. She liked to party, we fought, she cried on your shoulders for a bit, then we got back together. So fucking what?"

Val took a deep breath, trying to control the black fury coursing through him. He had already won. No need to wreck it all now.

But he couldn't stop.

"So she was hooked. Pills, coke, whatever it was. Maybe she had a stash she was trying to wean herself from, maybe she started paying you cash. But when the money ran out, and she was getting the shakes, I guess you made it clear she had to pay to play. She was too ashamed to admit it even to me, let alone her family that she was an addict, and she couldn't stand feeling like she was selling herself. So she broke up with me, and went back to partying with you, telling herself you two had gotten back together. It was the only way she could do what she had to do to get her fix, and still live with herself."

Val couldn't hide the fury any longer. Terrance paled and looked away. "Goddamn. I'm right, aren't I, Terrance? That's exactly how it went."

Terrance blinked. "Shit, man, I'm dizzy as hell. What the fuck?"

Val's hand jutted out, embracing a shooter's position once more. "Answer the question, fuckhead! She was strung out, and there was only one way she was getting free shit from you. We both know that's how it went down. What I want are the fucking details!"

Terrance raised his hands, panic fighting grogginess for a few precious minutes. "Alright, Val. Goddamn it, alright! Yes, she was strung out. Fuck, man, she tried to be all miss high and mighty, chilling with you, and she was strung out bad. I told that bitch she couldn't just hop off like that, but no. She thought her stash would see her through. She wanted something 'real', she said. As if I was a joke. Bullshit! Yeah, I hooked her up, but I let her know I wanted it just like old times."

The football jock blinked and swallowed, grimacing into Val's gun. "Look, man, it wasn't that deep. I didn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do. No man, it's all good times in Pappa Bear land." He swallowed again, taking a desperate sip of brandy. "Seriously, Val, no one put a gun to her head like you're doing now. If it hurt so bad she couldn't stand it, she's not some poor street girl turning tricks, she just has to go to her parents and get into rehab. Yeah, embarrassing, but not that deep. Clarissa went straight last semester, now she's an honors student. She won't even talk to us now, getting past her past and whatever other bullshit her counselors drilled into her head, but do I hold it against her? Hell no. It's her life, she can do whatever the fuck she wants."

He shrugged. "Christine still wanted to party. I told her it was cool, just let it be like old times. Hell, Val, I knew from the day she came crawling back that she was still shagging you. I even told her I didn't give a fuck, so long as I came first. As long as she still had feelings for me."

Val frowned, a nervous Terrance suddenly breaking eye contact, even with the gun pointed at him.

"It wasn't that easy for her." Val's voice was dry as the desert as the truth grew ever clearer in his mind's eye. "She couldn't just fuck you, then fuck me, and call it all one big party. She isn't like you. She wanted someone who cared about her. She couldn't stand the thought of cheating on me, so she broke up, even if she hated herself for being so desperate." Val blinked away a hot tear. "I know she still cared about me. I know she regretted the choice she made. Do you know how I know, Terrance? She was still wearing my goddamn ring! Now hanging up on your goddamn mirror! The look she gave me the day she died was nothing but regret! What happened, Terrance? Did she try to break up with you a second time? Did you hate the idea of Mr. Pappa Bear with all his happy times coming second place to a stupid gamer nerd? Is that why you beat her to death?" Val's voice had become a ragged shout. Terrance's eyes flashed.

"Don't you shout at me, you goddamned shithead! I don't give a fuck about your gun. You want to kill me? Go for it! I fucking guarantee your DNA is already all over this room. She was your girl too, fuckhead. The more it looks like I did it, the more it looks like you killed me for vengeance! Everyone knows she was fucking both of us, Val. Now take the goddamned money and get the fuck out of here!"

Val cocked his Browning. Terrance grew utterly still, only his blinking eyes giving away his terror.

"This is a 1911 Browning, Terrance. It shoots 45 caliber slugs that will leave a dime sized hole in your forehead and a baseball sized exit wound when it blows out the back of your skull. Standard issue military sidearm for over seventy years, this is one of thousands that are all but forgotten." Val flashed an icy smile. "You'd be surprised, how easy it was for me to get this. And you're wrong, Terrance. Note my ski mask? Disposable attire I'll never wear again? The gloves? The fact we're having this conversation during a blackout? I could shoot you here and now, and it wouldn't mean a goddamn thing. It would never get back to me. Why should it? You're not responsible for Christine's death, right? So there's no fucking reason for anyone to associate me with shit!"

Terrance shuddered and blinked. "Please, man, please... it was an accident." He began to sob.

Val's voice turned strangely sympathetic. "I get it, man, I get it. Now why don't you get this shit off your chest and tell me what really happened? Maybe it will never get back to you. Who the fuck would take my word over yours? But at least I would know. Please, Terrance. Just tell me what the fuck went down."

Terrance shuddered and nodded. "Promise me, Val, promise me you won't shoot me dead?" Nervous and panicked, Terrance was visibly swaying.

Val nodded, solemnly resheathing his gun. "I promise. Now why don't you tell me what really happened?"

Terrance blinked in amazed relief, taking another sip of brandy. "Sure, man, fuck. I had too much to drink tonight, but that's what I get. The least of what I deserve, I know. And please, man, I'll tell you but... don't shoot. Let me make amends. I'll hook you up like you wouldn't believe. Just don't shoot me, okay?"

"I said I wouldn't. Now tell me what went down."

Sobbing, Terrance nodded. "God, it's been eating at me. I thought maybe you got it, the look you gave me at the funeral, but you were just so damn down, didn't even glance my way back at school, that I thought we were cool. Shit, man, I pitied you. I would have hooked you up for free, if you had asked. I'm serious, man, I kinda felt bad for you. I know it's my fault, but like, I felt like we were both in the same boat, somehow."

"Just get to the point, Terrance."

Terrance shuddered, nodding his head, star football player looking ragged and exhausted, blond curls hanging limp on his sweaty brow. "Yeah, about that." He sighed. "Fuck, it's just like you said. Just like you said. She... she and I... we hooked up again, she was sailing high as a kite, I thought it was all good, you know? That we were tight. She's the bomb, you know that, but damn, I swear, Val, she wasn't just a party girl to me. I really, well, I had feelings for her, you know? Anyway, after that first night, I thought we were cool, even though she was so quiet. She was taking hits like you wouldn't believe. I thought we were good, goddamn we partied hard, but she was crying at the end."

He grimaced in self-disgust. "Damn, Val, I thought she was crying for pleasure, but she curled up and just kept sobbing, I didn't know what the fuck to do. I asked her what was wrong. It was driving me crazy, and she said it was nothing. I asked if she'd fuck me over again, and she said no, we were cool. I assumed it was just feminine shit, I don't know, sometimes the coke hits her hard. Most of the time she loves it." He sighed. "It was like that for awhile, then we seemed to be okay. We were laughing and chilling again, catching flicks and partying like old times, but then out of the blue she's sobbing, saying I strung her out and made her my fucking whore, that I was no better than a pimp, and she absolutely hated me."

Terrance's eyes were wide, shaking his head, fists clenching at the memory. He looked furious.

"That goddamn bitch! Everything I had done for her, every good time we had shared, was nothing! Bullshit! Before she met you, Val, she was happy and free, not a care in the world, and I knew we were tight. Fuck, she told me so many times that I was the best thing that had ever happened to her, that she wanted us to be solid for life, and then, out of the blue, she calls me a pimp and a pusher and that I made her my whore! That's fucking bullshit! I did no such thing! No one made her crawl into bed with me, no one put a line of coke up her nose! It was her fucking choice. All of it! She could have walked away at any time!"

"And that's when you hit her." Val heard the words, dry and strange, as if spoken by someone else.

"Yes, goddamn it, that's when I hit her! And I couldn't stop, Val! I was so furious, so angry, she made me feel like such a worthless shit when I just wanted us both to soar! Side by side! And here she was, saying I was a slimy lowball piece of filth! I am not worthless, I am not nothing! She had no right to say those things to me. No right!"

He trembled, holding a shaking fist, glaring at Val, some fear having abated with Val sheathing his pistol. His gaze turned strangely pleading. "Do you understand Val? Do you get it? I loved her, Val, I really... loved her. And she took my heart, tore it out, spat on it, and called me filth."

His fierce stance crumpled. He broke into exhausted tears. "Oh fuck, Val, it's all my fault. All my goddamn fault! I just, I just, I just wanted her to love me!" Pleading eyes gazed into Val's own. "Please, man, please... I just, I just wanted to go back to the way things were before."

Val nodded. "Before the first time you beat her."

Terrance sighed, his voice slurring as he spoke. "Fuck. Fuck it all. If I could take it all back, I would. If I could suffer a massive beating and bring her back, I swear, Val, I would do it right now." He swallowed desperately, gazing at Val. "I'll tell you what. Make me suffer. Blow out my knees, both of them! I'll fucking hurt for life, I'll scream like a baby, and maybe, somehow, I can atone. Goddamn it, Val, I just wish I could go back!"

Val gazed at Terrance, feeling as cold and bleak as death itself, gazing at his prey.

He slowly shook his head. "Some things can't be taken back, Terrance. Thank you for the tears. Seeing your regret, it helps. Now lie down. It will make the next part easier."

The jock's composure crumpled. He sobbed, blinking his eyes as if in a stupor even as he shook with terror, stumbling over his words. "Oh my god, oh my god, you're really going to do it? You're really going to shoot me? Please, man, please, I don't want to die! I am so sorry. So fucking sorry. Please, man, anything, it's yours. Just please don't kill me! Look, I'll explain it all to my dad. I'll be in so much fucking trouble, but when I explain, he'll see you rich, Val. I don't know your home life, but I can tell by your clothes that you're just getting by. I can help you, man. My dad will help you."

Val's smile was ice. "My dad's worth more than your entire family. I just don't give a fuck about clothes. But don't worry, Terrance. Relax. Just let yourself drift. We're done here."

Terrance blinked in disbelief. "You're... you're going to let me live?"

"I'm not going to shoot you, Terrance. But if you ever see me in school again, you'd best turn right around and go the other fucking way."

He trembled, nodding furiously. "Yeah, man, no worries. Fuck, fuck, thank you, man! Oh, I will make this right, I swear it! No more dealing, Val. Jade, the other girls, I'll make sure they're alright, that they're not all quitting cold turkey. Then I'm out." He swallowed. "I fucking promise, man, this is a new leaf. I'm going to be worthy of this, I swear it!"

Val nodded. "Good luck with that."

Terrance smiled, the picture of exhaustion, falling into his pillows. "Goddamn. I'm glad, man, I'm really glad." His voice had fallen into a soft murmur, eyelids closing. "I'm going to make this right..." A soft snore.

Val took a deep breath, centering himself, making sure all was as it should be.

Suicide note in place on the desk. Empty pill bottle and brandy flask even now leaking the remaining contents on his bed. Terrance had drunk at least half.

Val's eyes locked on the ring sparkling faintly in the reflected dim moonlight even as it hung on its string, and Val choked back a sob, suddenly haunted by Christine's bright green eyes, her hopeful smile. How she had wrapped her arms and legs around him, squeezing him tight, kissing him so deeply, making love to him so tenderly in his soft plush bed. His father, colonel and entrepreneur both, knew what it meant to be a young man in love. Perhaps because he was himself a widower, his other children now in college, he gave Val more leeway than most parents would. Val could tell his father liked Christine, though he had also sensed that something was off. That something wasn't quite as it should be.

Val trembled and sobbed once, bitter regret flooding him as Terrance began to gurgle and wheeze. Silence as Val closed the bedroom door behind him, making his way with gloves on still, down the stairs. His heart lurched in his chest as he saw the shadow of a body, then a soft snore, one of the very few partygoers who hadn't stumbled home was out like a light.

The kitchen was pitch black and not a sound to be heard. It was nothing to slip out the door, close it quietly, and make his way across the hedges to the neighbor's yard, from there slipping into the park nearby, more forest then not, with enough thick hedges that no one had spotted and taken the nondescript bike he had bought at a garage sale miles away just days before.

Evidence dropped in a small pit he had dug a foot away from his bike the night before, and away he rode, just a kid getting a thrill with a late night bike ride. His hands shook with something other than excitement when he made his way back home after leaving his bike kickstand up at a neighborhood full of kids just a block away, a nice enough bike he doubted most kids would mind claiming it as their own, no matter that no one was poor in that stretch of town.

His hands trembled as he tried to put his key in the lock, gazing in disbelief, suddenly unable even to open the door. A deep, shuddering breath, a sob he choked down, and finally his key was in and he was home. Freezing on the doorstep. His shoes. No, it was silly, but still, he'd be stupid not to be careful. Val knew that turning on the hose and washing them in the dead of night would have looked suspicious, but it was pitch black, and he knew his property like the back of his hand. There. Done. Any dirt or gunk that would place him anywhere was now gone. Carefully he took them off, leaving them in a discrete spot to dry. They, like the nondescript clothes he wore, would find themselves dumped in the clothes donation center, just as soon as he found the strength to drive over there.

But not tonight. Sure as god, not tonight. It would be suspicious as hell, and he was in no shape to drive anyway.

"Val, is that you?"

Val froze in the hallway, stumbling to his room, heart in his throat. There was only one answer he could give. "Yeah, dad, it's me."

A long silence. "Are you okay, son?"

"Sure, dad. I'm heading to bed."

"Did you lock the door?"

Val paused and swallowed. "The door is locked. Goodnight, dad."

"Val?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

Val took a deep shuddering breath, squeezing his hands tight. Trying not to keel over as a flood of emotions roared through him. "I'm just tired, dad. We can talk tomorrow."

"Sleep well, son."

"You too."

Grateful for the dark, a trembling Val stood on the plastic garbage back he had left by his bed, struggling out of first one, then the other set of clothes until he was in his boxers alone. It was all he could do not to collapse in a shuddering heap as he bagged his clothes, then scooted the secondhands under his bed. What would soon be freshly cleaned clothes to donate to those in need, though not to the same stores he had originally bought them from. He wasn't that stupid, though god knew he had been a right fool when it really mattered.

In his gut, he had known that something was wrong with Christine, even when he was falling in love with her. So often she seemed haunted by something, but when she was happy, she was so hyped she seemed almost drunk. And how passionate she was when they made love, holding him so tightly, sobbing in his arms when they had peaked together, saying he was the only one who had ever really loved her, who didn't make her feel like a thing. Even then he had been filled with a hot fury, a need to protect her. But she made him swear never to confront Terrance for having beaten her. To just let the past go like she had. But the past had its hooks in Christine, and it had held on fast.

Only after her body had been found beaten and broken did the truth come out. The drugs that had been in her system. The awful rumor put out that she had been selling herself on the street to get her fix, just another tragic ending for a girl caught up in a bad scene. Only then did everything click, bitter insights gained as the seemingly disconnected clues all clicked into place, when Val forced himself to really look and pay attention to what was going on at school, going on with the former players in Christine's so recently ended life.

Val's rage had turned to diamond hardness by the time he had all the pieces in place. So discrete he had been, so damn discrete, not a single question he had raised. But a bit of pot purchased, easy conversation with a former varsity wrestling buddy selling weed and soft shit on the side, and Val knew what he was going to do. Knew exactly how things would play in a dizzying epiphany even as he was sharing a beer with the kid, both of them laughing at the stupidest bullshit. And Val had smiled right along, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

And things had gone exactly to plan. His father would say only one time in a dozen did things work out so smoothly. Perhaps it had helped that he hadn't given a flying fuck what happened to him. He had been both furious beyond belief and filled with an icy bleakness, an acceptance of whatever consequences ensued. If he had died that night, he wouldn't have cared. But so long as he could act, he would not stop until he had his vengeance. And that he did, only realizing as he lay in bed, trembling and sobbing, shaking like a child, how awful was the prize he had fought so hard to claim.

Sharp as he was, Val had always avoided the party scene, so what would have been clear to some had flown right over his head. He had been waiting for Christine to feel comfortable enough to share with him, to confide in him, to let him be there for her, when perhaps he should have broached the subject himself. Gotten her to open up, get it off her chest, crying her heart out if she must, and then they would get help for her. Together. But now it was too late. They could never have that happy ending together. The girl he loved, had sworn in his heart to protect, had died to brutal savagery, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back.

Just like there was nothing that Terrance's parents could do to bring their own son back, the father standing stoic as his beautiful wife sobbed and sobbed endlessly as last rights were given, more than half the student body of his school at attendance, paying their respects, as was the unspoken custom for the families that had lived and prospered in that town for generations.

And how those tears had cut into Val's soul. His father, also attending, said nothing, merely squeezing Val's shoulder as a father would as Val trembled and sobbed, desperate not to think, desperate not to recall every horrid moment of Terrance pleading with Val not to kill him, begging for a chance to make things right.

The weather had been calm that day, unlike the raging storm in Val's heart.

Not long after, he had spoken to his father about enlisting. Something in his father's eyes had left Val filled with an icy sort of foreboding. His father was no fool. But if he had suspicions about Terrance's death, he said not a word.

His father had just stared from the other side of his desk. Not one for politically inspired bullshit, he poured them both a glass of wine, treating him like the man Val aspired to be. If you're old enough to kill, his father would say, there is no way in hell you can't be old enough to drink.

"You've turned eighteen, Val. You're a man in all the ways that count. If that's the path you wish to take, I won't say no. Still, I know you have a hell of a lot of potential, whatever your less than stellar GPA might suggest. You're a savvy tactician, you know your way around small arms, and you can handle the Confidence Course as well as any enlisted. I've made sure of that every summer since you turned fourteen. And not least of all, you're my son. That all pulls weight, Val. If you're willing to work hard and earn it, West Point isn't out of the question."

Val swallowed, gazing down at his feet. "I talked to John. He said, he said if I was serious about enlisting, he'd steer me right."

John was an old friend of the family who had spent most of his time in special forces. He had taught Val a mixed martial art known as the Modern Army Combatives Program, or MACP. It wasn't treated that seriously by everyone, and half of those who practiced were just boxers who knew basic takedowns which, ninety percent of the time, would handle any civilian encounter. John, however, wasn't one for half measures, and each summer left a sore but pleased Val ever closer to earning a blackbelt equivalent in Muay Thai and Brazilian jiu-jitsu. By the time he was sixteen and after a serious heart to heart, John had consented to teach Val what it really meant to be a soldier. Not just teaching him how to strike hard, powerful blows while always keeping his balance, how to quickly take down and pin his foes, but how to strike to kill. Overcoming the instincts that normally 'tamed' a person's blows without them even realizing it. Val learned how to strike nose, neck, eyes, and other soft spots for maximum, even fatal damage.

He had taken to it with gusto, his experience with wrestling, and the sense of timing that he had learned sparring with longsword and saber, striking at the moment his foe was off balance, served him well in mastering whatever John threw his way. In turn, John had extracted just one promise from him.

"Don't go getting into any fights, Val. Only reason why I agreed to go this far in your training, besides the fact that you're a natural, is because I can tell you have a good head on your shoulders. When you fight, your instinct won't be to send the other kid home with a black eye, it will be to kill him." John had gazed at him so hard that Val had looked away, normally more than comfortable with the rugged looking man, wiry and surprisingly strong despite his deceptively mild appearance. He might be half the size of a pro bodybuilder, but he could kill most man before they finished their pre-fight bluster.

Val had only swallowed, nodding his head. "Yes, sir. Avoid fights at all costs."

John's smile had turned hard. "If anyone's bothering you? Unless you feel your safety is at genuine risk, or you're protecting a girl, you just smile and walk away. Offer to buy them a drink if you have to, whatever. The minute you feel you or your girl are being threatened, and you can't defuse the situation in seconds? You just do what you have to do."

Val had nodded back, knowing exactly where John was coming from. The man had served his twenty years almost exclusively in special forces and now worked as an elite 'troubleshooter,' though he never went into detail exactly what that entailed.

It was John who had been a shoulder to cry on when Val had lost Christine. And it was John whose cold eyes had peered into Val's, just days after Terrance's death, and it was like he knew. He said nothing though, just squeezed Val's shoulder with one hand and nodded, before going off with Val's father.

When Val contacted John and said it was time, John seemed to understand so much without any unnecessary words being said. "Are you sure, Val? It won't make what happened go away, but you will find purpose. It won't be easy either, but, hell, this might be exactly what you need. I just need to know that you are sure that this is the path you want to take."

And shortly thereafter, Val had found himself standing before his father, saying what needed to be said.

"But why, Val? I thought you were thinking of college, starting your own business." His father had flashed a gentle smile. "Starting up your own HEMA academy. What changed?"

Val opened his mouth, his thoughtful story already in place.

"Are we black?" his traitorous mouth said.

His father's smile instantly fled, gazing at Val with eyes suddenly dead serious. He shook his head, raising a finger, powering down his computer, flipping a switch, and all to be heard was a faint static throughout the room.

"Now we are."

Val took a deep, shuddering breath. Looking his father in the eye. "No stranger beat Christine to death." He swallowed his suddenly dry throat. "It was Terrance."

Val's father nodded slowly. "I'm well aware of the suicide note, Val. He confessed to everything before he died."

"Yes," Val said quietly. "He did."

His father stared at him for a long time.

Val's heart pounded in the silence.

At last, his father nodded. "I understand." He sighed. "You're a good kid, Val. A damn fine one. If you feel that John's path is the one best suited for you? Okay. If that's what you want, okay. Just make me one promise, Val?"

"What's that, dad?"

"Try to come back home alive?"

Val shuddered, forcing himself to nod.

"Good. Give it four years, Val. See if you can come to terms with yourself by that time. You have your whole life ahead of you. Find redemption for whatever wrongs you think you committed, then come back home, okay kid?"

Val forced himself to nod. "Four years. We'll see how I feel then."

His father nodded. "I know I don't even need to ask, but let me say this. None of us can correct the regrets of our past. All we can do is protect our future. Our future and the futures of those we love. I think you're already on the right path for yourself, and I want to protect you as you do what you must. So please, answer candidly. Are there any lose strings you still need to tie off?"

Val shook his head. "You taught me better than that."

His father blinked and frowned, silent for some moments. "Alright. Alright, Val. I'll talk to John myself, do my part to make sure everything is squared away. You graduate in a week, so just behave exactly as you always have. But on the off chance anyone says anything that feels off to you, or anyone, even the friendliest soul, starts asking you any sort of questions about your relationship with Christine or anyone else, you just cut them off. Tell them you're still in mourning, and you walk away. Then you call me. Immediately. Do you understand? Same thing if, god forbid, you are brought in under whatever pretext, even for a speeding ticket. You don't say a damn word to anyone in uniform without my lawyer, your lawyer present. You call me, you tell me you need our lawyer and where you are, then you shut the hell up. You don't tell me a goddamn thing on their phones, no matter how stressed you are. Only answer the questions I would ask you in a yes or no format. Then just go where they tell you, but you sign nothing, say nothing, not until our lawyer is there. Tell them you have nothing else to say until you have your lawyer present to make sure you're not being taken advantage of or manipulated. My guess is that at this point, the only thing that can condemn you is you. Do you understand?"

Val grimaced and nodded.

"And Val, this conversation we had? Dies the moment we leave this room. Capiche?"

Val flashed a bleak smile. "Long dead, dad. Dead and buried. And yeah, anyone probes, even the cutest, smartest girl at school, I walk away under whatever pretext I see, and I talk to you and you talk to your highly paid lawyer. I get it, dad. I know my GPA is a smack in the face to you and the memory of mother, but I'm no fool. I know how this game is played."

His father shook his head. "It saddens me that you do. But I understand, Val. I sure as hell do."

Val blinked and swallowed. He had never inquired about what had happened to the drunk driver who had killed his mother. Partly because it was the sorest of topics, partly because even as a kid, he had read enough suspense novels, seen enough movies, to know that often it was poking into mysteries long dead that evoked tragedy anew, often for the very people looking. Sometimes, Val knew, it was best just to leave the past the hell alone. His father's gaze told him as much.

They had both ended the lives of the men who had killed the women they had loved.

And neither of them was proud of that fact.

John hadn't let them down, neither had his father's status as an honored colonel. Val had gotten a certain invitation to speak to a few very powerful people, and had shown himself to be exactly what they were looking for. Much like cold vengeance, Val had gotten his wish. And it turned out to be just as bittersweet as killing Terrance had been.

13

"Val, are you okay?"

Val blinked, realizing he had been lost in thoughts of the past, shivering as he sensed how deeply Elise's soft violet eyes had pierced his soul. He gazed around at the exotic stone library he had woken up in, still amazed beyond belief to find himself catapulted into another world. A world of dangerous magic, exotic tech, and potent Psiblade wielding Darklords. A world that quantized things in ways chillingly similar to his favorite role-playing games, even if the complexity was a millionfold greater. Somehow he knew that the mental image he had of his character sheet was just a metaphor, a highly simplified interpretation of something supremely complex and nuanced. But it was enough for him to sense how he was thriving and growing in ways inconceivable back home.

He shook his head, awed and overwhelmed anew. "Sorry I went quiet for a moment there, Elise. I'm still a bit overwhelmed. Just a day ago I was living in my father's house, near crippled by pain and injury. Now? I'm as fit as I've ever been in my life, and I find myself sensing and grabbing hold of powers only glimpsed in fairy tales and computer games. Honestly, I've never felt so terrified or excited by all of life's potential as I do right now."

Halvar, having talked Gregor into giving him back his laser carbine, smiled even as he tweaked it with his now obviously repaired eye. "It's always good to take stock and be grateful for life's bounties and your own accomplishments. It can make your experiences in life so much richer, however many credits you actually have."

"Sure," Sten said, handsome features set in a hard scowl. "So long as we live to tell the tale." He turned his gaze to Val. "We have maybe a day and a half worth of water. I need you to keep it together until we get out of here."

Val frowned but nodded. "Yes, Captain. I'll do my part to see us through."

Sten flashed a bleak smile. "Either that or sabotage all our equipment, sure."

Val swallowed, bowing his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know what would happen. I didn't even know I could do... whatever it is I did."

"Shoot streams of fire from your hand? Explode in a grand inferno I was certain would kill you, only to find your scrapes and burns completely healed after sleeping like the dead for more hours than we can afford to sit still? Sure, I get that, kid. And hell, I owe you thanks. Your trick, however you managed to pull it, did scare off those shades. I just wish it hadn't fried so much of our gear."

Val frowned "Will that always happen?"

Sten shrugged. "How the hell should I know? This is the first time I've found myself exploring ruins with a wizard."

"Not the first time I have," Halvar said. "Once or twice, we had a couple acting in an advisorial capacity on high mana worlds. Paid them in Elementium, they were happy as clams. Most wizards have no experience with internalizing their magic resonance, and so give off a fair amount a radiation in the mana spectrum that tends to knock out most advanced tech."

Val frowned. "I'm sorry, Halvar. I'm not sure I understand."

"What's to understand?" Gregor grumbled, frowning as he attempted to disassemble his own blaster with a pair of exotic looking rods. "Any tech more advanced than steam works on eletromana conversions. Any wizard that casts a spell near anything more complicated than a boiler or water clock is going to fry circuits and kill the device. Much like you did my blaster, Val, and it will be by the ancestor's will alone that I can fix this thing!"

"Or keep at least ten yards distance," Halvar qualified. "That was the general rule of thumb. The wizards were auxiliary support. We kept them in body armor and with crossbows, which are low tech, but one of the few counters to laser resistant plating. That is, unless you have a very elite, very expensive carbine like mine that can modulate the fields and, not to get too technical, shoot lightning once we lock on the target with a magnetizing stream."

Val nodded. If one could direct lightning blasts, that would be a pretty devastating weapon, he thought.

Halvar shrugged. "Though it taps power like a bitch and takes a bit for the batteries to recharge. So doubleshot crossbows and body armor for our pair of mage scouts, and if trouble comes of a magical nature, they were the experts. We'd fade back and take up sniping positions, giving our mages cover while they did their thing. It was a bit of a pain, having to keep distance like that and delaying how readily we could use them, but they were a useful addition, and it did justify our unit being equipped with these specially designed carbines. Fully interchangeable parts, and if they get disrupted by a mana pulse, it's merely about realigning the components post-surge. Same thing with my eyepiece. It's military grade, so it's just as easy to recalibrate after a mana surge."

Gregor shook his frizzy mop of a head in disgust, stomping over to a still dazed Val. "Until we find a buyer for it, you should be the one to hold onto it. Maybe you'll actually learn something useful!" He tossed one of the volumes they had found onto Val's lap.

Val picked the tome up and frowned, opening it, seeing a dizzying chart of interconnected symbols and lines revealing a pattern that made his head spin just looking at it. He squinted, almost chilled at the level of detail, feeling his eyes start to sink into it like those optic pictures that would turn 3D and reveal surprising complexity if one unfocused one's eyes just right.

Val frowned, turning to Gregor. "I don't understand."

The tiny man blinked at Val incredulously. "What do you mean you don't understand? Just read it! Internalize the picture and study it at will until you understand all it has to teach." He rolled his eyes under his thick bushy brows. "Don't you get it, kid? It's the tome we found that instructs wizards on how to control their emissions."

Val frowned, gazing at the first diagram for minutes, feeling nothing but dizzy as the flood of interconnecting lines and symbols seemed to gaze back at him, growing in number, complexity, and interconnections the longer he stared. "I'm sorry, Gregor, is this picture supposed to mean anything?" He flipped ahead. "There are no words, here, only more diagrams...

Gregor's gaze widened. He turned to Sten. "Great, that's just great! Our little magical homunculus is also dyslexic!"

The captain shook his head.

Elise glared and the gnomish looking man. "That's hardly fair, Gregor. Whether he truly is the boy from another world that he thinks himself to be, or is merely a magical construct given sentience and identity, it's absurd for us to think he would be implanted with twenty years of intensive training in academic studies. Of course our tomes would make no sense to him. He only understands what we are saying because his arcane and psionic perception makes him a natural linguist, so he imprints our words with the meanings we are trying to convey as we say them."

Gregor shook his head. "So instead of a fortune in liquid silbion, we find a complete innocent who now needs caretakers."

Elise frowned, delicate hand squeezing Val's shoulder. "I don't much care whether he's human or an arcane construct. He saved my life, and no Highlord ignores her debts."

"But you aren't a Highlord, Elise. You were just a trainee!"

"It does not matter!" She snapped, eyes flashing so hot Gregor stumbled back, hands raised. "My gifts make me ascended, no matter that that awful bastard exploited so many of us. Justice will be done. My wounds, the wounds of those who suffered alongside me, will be avenged!" She took a furious, shuddering breath. "You know how I train with the sword. When I give challenge, he will answer. By our very code, he must. It is that code that has kept the Highlords from tearing each other's throats out, kept our worlds from going up in flames."

Gregor lowered his head. "You don't have a Psiblade, only your parents' old artifact. It's a nice toy, but a Highlord's weapon will cut right through it an instant before cutting you in half."

Elise's eyes were lit with a strange manic gleam. "Not before I run that bastard through. We will die together! And if he lets fear into his heart, his mind will be wide open, no matter how strong he thinks his shields are. Then I will let him taste every bit of my agony! Every scream he ever stole from my lips he will feel burning through him as I tear into his flesh. And I care nothing if he cuts me down, because then it will finally be over. Live or die, it will be a relief, just so long as I have the satisfaction of seeing fear writ across that bastard's face!"

The room grew deathly quiet. No one said a word.

Elise wordlessly handed Val a flask. He sipped from it, enjoying the cool sensation of water refreshing his parched throat as she looked at him. She smiled, then, picking up the tome. "Come, Val, let me teach you how to read."

An hour passed, Val grimacing his apology as he struggled alongside Elise, trying to fathom what literacy meant to these people, humbled beyond belief by the degree of complexity implied in a single chart. Every symbol, every connecting line was relevant to every other piece of the diagram, their very connections spawning new meanings, all of it somehow symmetrical, a mathematical proof of whatever ideas or concepts lay within. It was like the most complex of equations, and the variables weren't limited to classic maths, but could be anything from biology, to chemistry to physics, and that would be the most logical for an earthbound scientist to understand. But just in a brief aside to Elise he suddenly had the feeling that physics was far, far more complex than Earth's own, so much there explainable with just a few key equations, strikingly enough. The beauty, the symmetry of physics, it was called.

"I'm not surprised," Elise said, a challenging twinkle in her eye. "I halfway think your entire world is a construct, and so it makes sense that it would use simplistic rules to minimize processing strains."

Val quirked a smile. "The old 'are we living in a matrix?' question. And considering that some of the mathematical equations underlying reality as seen in string theory also happen to mirror perfectly the math behind programs that stabilize our web browsers, people have to actually take that question seriously now."

"Well, there you have it," Gregor smirked. "Whatever the hell web browsers are, your meaning is clear enough. By your own admission, you're just a remnant of some ancient simulation left unchecked centuries ago, perhaps fueled by Jordia's core or some inconceivably valuable pocket of Valorium. It's our rotten luck that you just happened to manifest sympathetic resonance within several million credits worth of liquid silbion!"

Val swallowed, chilled by the thought. "That's impossible," he whispered. "If anyone's deluded or dreaming, it's me, and this isn't even a world. It's just my being jacked up in a hyper-responsive, hyper-realistic computer game. That is what Endless Online is supposed to be. Just a computer game."

Sten smirked, even as Halvar roared with laughter. "That's rich, kid. Us? A computer game? Do we all look like triangulated figurines to you? What kind of world are you from, kid?"

Val frowned. "What do you mean, triangulated figurines? I mean VFX singularities and such. Graphics so realistic you can't tell whether or not they're digital or the real thing."

Sten's brows furrowed. "You have such a thing in your world?"

Val shrugged. "Not quite. I mean, the effects look great in movies, but when they try to mimic a person, you can tell it's not quite real, but damn if it isn't close."

"Impossible," Gregor flatly said, glaring from his fried pistol. "Absolutely impossible! The maths won't allow it, not with infinite complexity trying to simulate a digital picture. Most computers aren't happy handling more than the diagrams you're too stupid to fathom."

Val frowned, looking away. "It's true. I'm not lying. Why would I? Visual effects are incredibly lifelike, where I'm from."

"It makes sense if he's part of a simulation," Elise said for Gregor's benefit. "Even if we know they are just flashes of code synergized with sufficient mana to be self-aware, in their existence they will interpret the algorithms they experience as sight, sound, or any other sensation. So it's not surprising they'd learn to master their own technology and somehow think that life-like graphics were the norm in the real world, not knowing that they are themselves just a simulation."

Val swallowed. "I'm not a simulation, Elise."

"Of course not." She patted his hand. "Now let's get back to your first lesson. This symbol here is indicative of all the symbols interconnected to it, as well as the patterns of their interconnection. Now I want you to close your eyes, and tell me the names of all the connecting symbols, alright?"

Val grimaced, closing his eyes, drawing a complete blank. Dead silence save for his heartbeat, the flush he felt on his cheeks.

"Name one symbol." Her gentle voice had grown intent.

Val bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Elise. I'm not really much good at visual learning. I think in sound and, well, kinesthetics, mostly. I can feel how to disassemble and reassemble my carbine, I remember every nuance of the voice giving me my orders, exactly what I need to do, and I may be good with a map, but I don't flash memorize every significant landmark. I only know one guy who can do that, and he's shit for tactics so he was mostly just useful when things got hot and heavy and we didn't have time to pull out the map."

Gregor snorted. "He can't even remember the twelve cardinal connections, yet picks up magic after seeing just a few spells cast? He's either an idiot-savant or an arcane construct. Either way, this blaster's finished. We're just wasting time now." He turned to the captain. "Sten?"

Sten cricked his back and rolled his shoulders. "You can try to teach him the basics when we get out of here, Elise. It seems Val's a harder case than even I had thought. We might have to declare him, once we make our way out."

Val blinked, suddenly discomfited. "What do you mean, declare me?"

Sten just gazed at Val with thoughtful brown eyes for a minute, his gaze neither hostile nor welcoming. Just practical, somehow. "How old are you, Val?"

"Twenty."

Sten smirked. "You look closer to fifteen. Sixteen at most. And for all that you imply you were trained as a mercenary, children don't reach maturity til they turn thirty in the real world."

Val blinked. "Thirty?"

Elise nodded. "I'm thirty five. Only a few years past what should have been my childhood, before it became a nightmare halfway through.

Val's eyes widened. "Honestly, Elise, you don't look any older than twenty at most, and if you told me you were eighteen, I'd believe it. Your skin is flawless."

Elise smiled. "Thank you, Val. Whatever world you're from, a girl always likes to look young." She frowned, then. "Maybe you're a remnant of an exceedingly ancient civilization. Millenium ago, humans barely lived to see a hundred years. Now? We see two hundred easily without treatments, six hundred to a thousand with even the most basic rejuvenations."

Sten nodded. "Which means you have plenty of time to learn to read. And you'll need it. Every formal profession requires mastery of their respective tomes. If you don't know them, you will never know the most efficient ways to carry out your tasks."

Halvar looked up from his gun. "If you're declared, it means you become a ward of whatever nation you happen to be in. If you really are just twenty, or fifteen it looks to me, you're definitely a child in need of a caretaker providing room and board while you master the charts of your chosen profession."

Val blinked. "But... I graduated school as I turned eighteen. I've already served my country as a soldier, and the skills I learned, I learned damn well. No charts needed."

Gregor rolled his eyes. "Oral traditions are all well and good in primitive cultures or computer simulations, but this is reality, and we've advanced a lot in the last few thousand years. In other words, Val, whatever your memories, whatever it is you think you know, you're still just a child, assuming you're human at all."

"We are not throwing his humanity into question, Gregor." Elise's voice was like steel.

Gregor shrugged. "I'm not going to throw accusations that could get him sliced and diced by whatever Darklord wants to figure out how he ticks, Elise. All I'm saying is that as soon as we get out of here, babysitting this boy will be the state's job, not ours."

Halvar frowned. "A private institution, Gregor. We won't give him to the local government."

"Of course."

Val grimaced, feelings of limitless potential quenched by the nameless dread of becoming a faceless drone lost in a soulless bureaucracy. "I'd rather decide for myself what happens to me when we get out of here, if that's alright with you all." He forced a smile. "Come on, we're all basically treasure hunters here, right? No chart mastery needed to think on your feet and handle dilemmas as they come, no? If you find me useful? Well, I don't eat that much. Let me learn by observing so I'm no trouble at all, and I'll pitch in as I can. You'll find that I'm a fast hands-on learner, even if hitting the books was never my strength."

Sten, eyes hard, gave a curt shake of his head. "No dice. That's exactly what I offered you, Val, and a damn good offer it was. And you turned me down. Flat. Acted like I was trying to trap you. As if I would ever do that to a child." He shook his head and spat.

Val winced, and perhaps it was his increased charisma or perception, but he was beginning to think he was guilty of a grievous breach of etiquette in his refusal. He flushed and looked away. It was so goddamned unfair, really.

"Where I'm from, minors can't sign contracts without a guardian's consent," he said at last, putting things in terms they might understand. For all that he saw himself as an adult, they clearly did not. "It was a year-long commitment, and I hadn't even gotten a chance to familiarize myself, to understand anything about you, or this culture, so different from my own."

He gave a frustrated shake of his head. "Binding contracts are almost anathema, where I'm from. Most people who use them do not have your best interests at heart on Earth, and, well, you have to remember that the whole series of events that led me being here was a result of me and several chance-met friends trying to escape some very bad people trying to trap us with a contract that would have allowed them to effectively kidnap us and use us as indentured servants for at least half a decade before throwing us away. So... yeah. Binding contracts leave a really bad taste in my mouth right now."

Elise nodded. "He's telling the truth, Sten. Or at least, what he believes to be the truth."

Sten smirked. "Assuming Darklords really did take dozens of his peers hostage." He shrugged, looking all around. "Maybe the dreadnought above didn't find some exotic way to breach a dimensional rift to kidnap children with Psionic potential to use as drone slaves. Maybe the truth is simpler than that." Brown eyes bored into Val's blue. "Maybe Val here is just a remnant of the original civilization that was overthrown a millennium ago. And those thirty children stolen? Dead long, long ago."

"He hardly looks like a dwarf, Sten," Halvar said. "Not nearly bulky enough."

Val shook his head, dizzy with horror. "No... I... that's impossible."

Sten shrugged. "I don't know, kid. Look, let's just worry about getting out of here in one piece. Once we're free? We'll play it by instinct. Sound good to you?"

Val forced himself to smile. "Fair enough, Captain."

"Alright," he nodded. "Fortunately Halvar's military blaster was an easy fix, so we're all armed once more. Val? You're taking point along with Elise. Thanks to Halvar, we know the distance we need to keep back. If I give a holler or we close, or I say 'close tight,' that means you use your sword, no spells. Got it?"

Val blinked but held his tongue, the captain's increasingly hard gaze making it clear that he had just given an order.

Val dipped his head. "Yes, Captain."

"Good," Sten said, cordial once more. "Now freshen up, and let's get out of here."

Val did just that, and within moments they had retraced their steps back to the eerie temple radiating such strange energies as to bathe everything in a curious rainbow of light. Much to Val's relief, no trace of the specters remained. Just a massive byzantine cathedral, or the closest thing to it.

"What was this place?" His whispers carrying eerily through the vast domed cavern they were crossing, all of them approaching the cathedral at a cautious pace.

Sten frowned, gazing at Elise. "It's a damn good question. What do you think?"

Elise's eyes had grown soft. She shook her head. "I think, well, I fear we are at the heart of what was once a vast enterprise to accrue either wealth, magical power, or both."

Gregor cursed softly, nodding his head. "This place stinks of Elementium. And this mine is old. Right above an ancient mage's demesne. That can only mean one thing."

Even Halvar nodded at that, brows furrowed, checking his carbine carefully. "Damn, but this planet's history was an ugly one."

Val frowned, gazing at Elise. "What is everyone saying without directly saying it?"

Elise sighed. "Even our oldest ancestors knew how incredibly valuable Elementium was. Even a small amount focused into a wand could increase a mage's ability to channel mana into spells. It's only grown in value, as almost every piece of technology we use has Elementium filaments at the very least, so useful it is for mana-electromagnetic conversion and stabilization."

"And so damn easy for rebel wizards to knock out of commission," Gregor grumbled.

Elise nodded. "Anyway, it is only modern mining techniques that allow for the civilized gathering of this most vital and precious resource."

Val blinked. "I'm not quite sure that I know what you mean."

Elise gazed sadly at Val. "It means that before the modern age, before True Artificers and their unique gifts became known, the only way to free Elementium from the rocks it was bound to and properly purify it was by using necromancy and darkest sacrifice. A surge of blood and power that worked quite well at freeing pure Elementium."

Val blinked, gazing at the glowing temple, suddenly feeling sickened as awful things began to click into place. "You mean... those shades..."

"Yes." Elise nodded. "They were the power infused remnants of just a few of the innocent souls that had no doubt been sacrificed to extract purified Elementium from its ore."

Val swallowed a throat suddenly parched as they neared the temple of obsidian, wordlessly reaching out for a water flask put in hand despite their limited rations. He was surprised but grateful, drinking sparingly as they approached, Halvar's crimson light leading the way.

"Oh my friends, our lucky day!" Gregor crooned as they took their first footsteps into that ancient cathedral of horror. Awful depictions of sacrifice and slaughter had been carved into the stone walls and ceiling with loving detail, bass reliefs painted in what looked to be gold and blood, giving the awful artistry a sheen that had lasted centuries, and for all Val knew, would last til the end of time. He shuddered and pulled his eyes downward, catching sight, then, of dry dusty bones aligned beside five fire pits with cages of heat scorched iron. Val would have thought it all rusted long ago, but a tentative touch revealed carbon blackened bars. So much death and horror had those cages contained, so many victims burned alive, that the iron had actually been carbonized. Instead of rust, it was caked with a thousand screams given literal form.

Val grimaced, pulling his hand back, almost imagining that he could taste the awful arcane memories of those screams embedded in the very iron. He turned his gaze to what Gregor was so excited about, eyes absently tracing the lines of tarnished black that he suspected when buffed would reveal brightest silver, connecting the cages to a large alter of gold-veined marble upon which even now rested a pitcher and chalice.

Heedless of danger, Gregor rushed forward. "The chalice. Look what it contains! Raw Elementium in its purest form!"

Val shivered, catching Gregor's excited gaze. "Um, Gregor? I wouldn't recommend you touching that."

The smaller man's scathing stare froze Val's tongue. He knew that as far as the others were concerned, he was a forced obligation of their find, a hindrance of duty, and little more. Still, that cold stare made it clear how deep that contempt went.

"As if I was in need of an illiterate child's council," Gregor said, deliberately opening up his pack and pulling out a crystalline flask.

"Gregor!" The captain's voice, his concern strangely matching Val's own. He was no aspiring mage, but Val already knew Sten had a feel for trouble. Luck, as his friends put it.

Gregor rolled his eyes. "Any arcane residues associated with the ore will be neutralized with modern refinement. We will pay the standard fee when it's marked as ultra-pure, and that will be the end of it. Besides, I'm wearing gloves," he smirked, carefully packing the sparkling ore away in his pack.

It was a trick of the eye, Val knew it, but it almost seemed as if a thorn of darkness lifted free of the Elementium, for all that Halvar's sourceless light seemed to cancel all shadows, viciously pricking a suddenly screaming Gregor as he collapsed to the ground, spasming uncontrollably.

"Gregor!" The captain roared, cool equanimity vanished, racing in furious panic toward his friend.

Val hissed, his Arcane Perception picking up a ghostly matrix of power percolating through a moaning Gregor's blood. Dark, awful laughter suddenly filled the cathedral, Val drawing his borrowed sword as fast as he ever had, even when training for the draw with his 1796 cavalry saber, years ago. The laughter did not die, though no foe coalesced, but a faint tingling in the back of his head told Val it was only a matter of time.

There. A sense of something coalescing in back of the cathedral. A beacon for a presence foul and awful now heading their way.

Val blinked, turning his gaze back to a panicked Sten, an anxious Elise, and a grim-faced Halvar, the only one still keeping an eye out for danger.

"Halvar. Trouble's closing in."

Halvar frowned. "What are you talking about, kid?"

Val grimaced. "As the saying goes, something awful this way comes."

Halvar turned around, seeing only the back of the cathedral. "Talk to me, Val. We got a man down and you're blabbering. What are you talking about?"

Val grimaced. "Can you hear the laughter, at least?"

Halvar's gaze hardened. "This is no time for jokes or a breakdown, Val. Gregor's already suffering a seizure."

"That's not a seizure, Halvar! Gregor triggered some sort of arcane trap, and something terrible is going to be here within seconds, so get ready!"

Halvar's human eye widened. "You mean like some ancient eldritch knight wearing black armor with crackling green flame and eyes that burn like coals of hellfire?"

Val blinked. "Shit," he cursed, spinning around to see a horrific monstrosity of that very description approaching the cathedral door with a blade of shadow.

Shadownight encountered! Ancient and terrible, these specters were once priests and keepers of hundreds of slaves. Nothing was too depraved for them to keep their worker's output high, butchery and sacrifice were two of their favorite tools! But fate plays by its own rules, and sometimes the keeper becomes the most abject of slaves. This ancient remnant is bound to the cathedral you are in. If you run far and fast enough, your survival is virtually guaranteed! Or, you can stay and defend Gregor, who never really liked you in the first place, and risk your life and soul facing off against this horror. A horror you have no idea how to fight. Which do you choose? - Quest: Defend Gregor. Do you accept? Yes/No.

Val grimaced, shaking the maddening prompt away. He didn't know if it was fate, the rules of this universe, or his sarcastic subconscious that had somehow tuned itself to the inner workings of this strange realm. Either way, this was no game to him, and he had a teammate to save.

Val turned to Halvar. "It's a Shadowknight, whatever the hell that means. I think it's mostly spirit, but your gun won't do jack!" He turned to Elise, his intent gaze upon her glittering blade making his hunch a certainty. "Elise. Your sword may counter it. If you confront it with your sword, I'll try to harry it with fire!"

Sten frowned, trying in vain to use a metallic disk placed on his friend's chest. "Damn, this thing is worthless! Arcane resonances are too high, the routers are already blown." He turned up, eyes widening as he took in the Shadowknight, registering Val's words after the fact. "Elise, are you up for this?"

She paled, gazing at the horror even then approaching, step by awful step, the earth trembling with each footstep. Awful laughter filled the cathedral.

"Fresh slaves for the master." A voice hoary as winter washed through their souls.

Val's heart began to hammer as he embraced the icy cold certainty of death. Became one with it, feeling his own furious, icy resolve seep into his veins, the memory of every scream he had ever heard or inflicted washing through him. Blood on his hands, frosty hate in his soul.

He was not Val Hunter as he slowly pivoted around his terrible foe. He was the night itself. Darkness. He was the emptiness between thought and action. He was death flowing forward, icy cold before blazing in sudden hot fury, left hand jutting out as he roared an oath that just felt right, twisted words his ears couldn't even comprehend as fiery magics blazed through him, staggering the demon of vilest shadow, now roaring in inhuman fury.

Firestream critical hit! Shadowmind stealth successful, critical damage rendered! Foe's matrix has been pierced, mobility impaired until it feeds upon fresh souls. (Yours, perchance, Val?) 10 mana spent.

Stealth Level 3 successfully quantized. You were a sneaky sniping bastard long ago, Val, in a life no more real than faerie tales. You always knew just where to move and when to stay utterly still. Just as you learned to hide your mind so none could sense the death waiting for them in your gaze. Fitting, then, you should remember your own darkness when fighting darker faeries still.

Yet their foe was no simple ghost chained to endless unlife, but a being of power who clearly understood the lessons of battle as well as any mercenary. With awful speed it twisted around, the howling demon's shadowy sword hindered not at all by Val's mundane saber held in tierce. Only its surprise and Val's quick reflexes prevented Val from tasting whatever horrors that blade promised.

Elise blinked, shocked to see Val act seemingly out of nowhere, precious seconds they dare not lose. "Elise!" Val screamed, backpedaling furiously as the now roaring knight of death and shadow lurched after Val.

"Shit!" Val hissed, darting back as the awful blade of darkness tore through the air, Val's saber once again proving utterly unable to counter living shadow as Val stumbled to the ground, nowhere near as graceful as he was quick, but never one to freeze, rolling for all he was worth as the shadowknight's blade cut through stone and air, leaving no trace of its passage, though Val had no doubt it would be different should that blade touch his body, cleaving into Val's very soul.

And suddenly a second roar of pain.

Val did not waste time. Did not hesitate, spent no precious seconds orienting himself for safety, trusting that Elise had come through. He sprang up in the direction of that howl, arcane syllables already pouring from his lips, feeling that strangely sweet, fiery connection between that which was and which could be, glorying in the torrent of flame pouring from now both hands as he crashed to his knees and aimed upwards, straight into the shadowknight's face, his foe howling as liquid shadow began to burn, even as its dark blade swept over Val's head.

The creature's howls abruptly cut off, staggering back before it's crimson eyes blinked in strange otherworldly surprise, Elise's blade having pierced right through it from behind, shadow armor proving no more viable than mist at stopping Elise's blade.

The Shadowknight fell to its knees as Elise pulled out her now glowing blade. Eyes like violet flame, Elise roared, spinning about in a headsman's pirouette, cleaving through the demon's helm with a single terrible blow.

Val had time to share a heartfelt grin with Elise before collapsing to the ground, Gregor's desperate cries stopping abruptly as Val's began.

Shadowknight defeated! Thanks to effective use of stealth, fire, and an artifact from a family steeped in Psion tradition, you and Elise have managed to take down a foe that could have killed either of you with a single swipe! His potency and legacy have now been transferred to your party. Experience points distributed! He also hosted scores of tortured souls, and there is only one suitable vessel for containing them. Congratulations! You now host the power and agony of forty-two souls. Do you wish to feed upon them now? Yes / No.

Val cried out, flooded by excruciating pain even as he caught a flash of his experience bar filling with blue, suddenly very close to what he assumed would be level 3 before that delusion was washed away in a sea of inconceivable pain. No! I'm not eating any poor souls! Even as he writhed in agony, he sensed their awful despair. Knew that he felt but the tiniest whisper of the perpetual pain tormenting them endlessly. It was a desperate struggle, resisting the call that would bring him sweetest relief. Yet for better or worse, he was well used to pain, and now it seemed forty-two souls were desperately counting on him for release and, he somehow sensed, the potential for rebirth and hope anew.

So too, some dark, bitter part of himself knew that he could simply choose to feed upon them. That their power would rush into him, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. And they would be consumed utterly, gone forever.

Even in his state of agony, catching sight of the wide-eyed helpless gazes of spirits that had died as no more than children was too much for him to bear.

He would endure this, he swore to himself, even as he choked down screams, trembling as a surprisingly gentle Halvar held him steady, Sten himself gazing down with concerned dark eyes, Gregor looking as free of hostility as Val had ever seen him.

"What's wrong with him?" An exhausted Gregor asked.

Elise shook her head. "He took in that creature's essence. Somehow. All of its potency, its being, the force and weight of its presence in the universe."

Gregor furrowed his brow. "But such a thing is outside the province of all but the legends revolving around you Highlords, is it not? I'm sorry, Elise, but that sounds like psionicist superstition to me."

Halvar chuckled softly even as Elise paled with outrage. "You say this about a coven of men and women who now control most of the colonized galaxy? Their dreadnoughts orbiting how many planets? You don't think they've somehow figured out how to catalyze the potential of all their victims, all their conquests in ways far beyond most conquerors?" The soldier shook his head. "I thought you smarter than that, Gregor, especially as you yourself were seizing, fit to die of exhaustion because of some arcane trap, and it was Val here who sensed trouble coming."

The words washed over Val as he did his best to come to terms with the fire burning through him. The living agony, now desperate to find a way to free those souls. There must be something he could do. Some way he could grant them peace. Or at least, get them out of him.

He blinked and shivered with desperate hope, controlling his shakes, clenching down his screams. "Captain."

Sten, gazing at Val as gently as he had ever seen him. "Yeah, kid, what is it?"

"We need to go back to my birthplace... the room you found me in."

Sten's lips pursed in a hard line. "We'd be going back and forth for the third time. We're going to run out of water before we have a chance at survival at this rate."

"Please!" Val cried, unable to keep the raw pain at bay, having pushed down the annoying prompts with the last of his grit. "It's the only way I can free them!"

The captain frowned. "Free who?"

"Please, Sten. Please! If you do this, I... I can save your Silbion."

Sten blinked. "And just how would you manage that, Val?"

Val closed his eyes tight with the pain. "Just trust me, Captain. After all, what do you have to lose, if you can never come back for it later?"

Sten hissed an angry curse, his gaze catching Halvar. "You carry him. He can barely stand." Their leader sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, Val. We'll do this. But this is the last time! After this we make all haste, no matter what mystic crap is or is not happening."

Val could only whimper, trying not to drown in tides of agony as Halvar gently led the way, the time passing in a blur of soothing words and pain before Val found himself before the vat of his birth, all but crying with relief.

He gazed at the now empty vat, terrified his idea wouldn't work, that he would be stuck with this pain forever. Or worse, give in to the pain and devour forty-two souls, many of them children.

He turned his desperate gaze to Halvar. "Thank you. If you could all just give me a few minutes of privacy, I am going to take off my clothes and rest. I hope that in an hour I will be... stabilized. Then we can go ahead, if you will wait that long."

Sten sighed. "Don't think that I don't know that we owe you, Val, whether you are human or homunculus. My crew and I, we honor our debts. Recalibrate yourself, commune, do whatever it is you have to do. You have one hour, Val, and if you're not able to continue..." his gaze turned sad, then hardened. "We go ahead. I'll leave you one liter of water, and we will return as soon as we can, I promise you."

Gregor frowned. "We can't really afford to give away any water, Captain."

Elise glared at the small little man. "We're not abandoning anyone, Gregor. Besides, you owe him."

Gregor grimaced. "I was afraid of that." He sighed, looking at Val doing his best to keep his agony contained, desperate for them all to leave before he did what he had to, whether or not they witnessed. "Thanks, kid. If your magic knack is what saved me, well, you're alright in my book, even if you do act like an idiot more often than not."

Val chuckled painfully. "Thanks, Gregor."

Gregor shook his head. "You really should learn to read, once you're claimed. You're not a complete idiot, but you will be treated as one, if you can't master even basic diagrams."

"Enough," Sten finally said, leading them all out. "You have one hour, Val. Make it count." And their voices faded, Val sensing them heading to the library.

Trembling with pain and the desperate hope of relief he could almost taste, Val stripped off his clothes, making truth of his pretext, before leaning over the vat that had served as his birthing chamber, grateful as hell that none of them had thought to look inside, to see that it was utterly empty of tainted Silbion. Then again, considering that they had feared it was unstable and likely to explode... it was no wonder they had no interest in peering at it up close, or why they were all too happy to retreat all the way to the library to give him privacy.

Closing his eyes, he felt himself drift through his pain, even as he tried to commune with the source of his suffering.

Freedom.

They could taste the word.

Somehow, Val sensed what was needed, feeling the liquid Silbion flow out of storage and into the vessel. His body flooded with relief as the souls poured out of him and into the liquid Silbion which seem to both draw the spirits and catalyze some sort of transition for them, each and every one of them bubbling away on what Val was strangely certain were tiny golden wings upon clouds of gentle mist. Val trembled at the sight, refusing to think too deeply on it, just happy to set them free.

When it was done, his Silbion reserves were down a full liter. But he thought it a more than a fair trade, to redeem dozens of priceless souls, each of them sticking around long enough for Val to make out the brilliant, grateful smiles of what truly were dozens of children, each tiny spirit kissing Val's forehead before departing.

Val fell to his knees and wept.

Congratulations! You have chosen the alternate path. Why give into sweetest darkness when you can be a hero of the light? Experience gained! +1 to charisma! A sacred blessing for a noble hero. People will react more favorably to you, and are more likely to want to be a part of the story of your life.

Val blinked, already feeling different somehow, even as he dressed in his limited wardrobe once more, grateful Halvar's thin protective robe was as much armor as clothing and covered him so well, once secured. He was glad to see that the captain's saber had been recovered and was cleaned and sheathed once more, tentatively heading out of the room in time to see Elise coming his way.

She stopped, blinked, and tilted her head with the strangest of smiles. "Valor, is that you?"

Val smiled back. "Of course. Who else would I be?"

Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Good point. It's just that you look... different, somehow. Certainly happier. I take it your communing worked?"

Val dipped his head. "I feel much better. Thanks."

Elise nodded, violet eyes gazing at him thoughtfully before favoring him with an indulgent chuckle, gentle fingers touching his cheeks. "You are a sweet one, Val. Thanks for taking point with me back there. If we hadn't worked together..."

Val shrugged. "It worked. We both know how important it is to fight as a unit, if fighting is what's called for. I didn't mind striking all out. I knew you had my back, and when push came to shove, well, you ran him through, killing him even as I collapsed."

She nodded. "His swings were devastating. If you hadn't harried him, somehow sneaking up in plain sight and blasting him even as he toyed with us, savoring our fear... that story could have had a far uglier outcome. And if that isn't evidence of Shadowmind at its finest, I don't know what is. Not many Psionists have that talent, Val. I'm glad you have a knack for it."

Val blinked. "You don't know it?"

She shook her head. "Not many do. The mindset is alien to the fierce sense of self that is the cornerstone of most Highlord disciplines. Perhaps when we manage to get out of here, we will have a chance to properly train you."

Val grinned. "I would love to learn whatever you can teach me. How is everyone else?"

Elise flashed a rueful grin. "Our blasters have blown out again. We had no choice but to act as we did, of course, but you used your magics too close to our gear, to say nothing of background mana radiation. The area was absolutely saturated with it." She sighed, squeezing his shoulder. "Gregor did give you a very good piece of advice. Learn to read, Val. With all your potential, it would be sad to see you cleaning sewage or doing endlessly repetitive assembly line work in environments too dangerous for machines to take your place."

Val shuddered at the thought of the ultimate drudge work. Pretty much anything would be better than that.

"Don't worry, Val," Elise soothed. "You're young, intelligent, and talented. And we can always use more people who understand both the advantages of modern life and the potential that magic offers. I am sure allowances will be made to give you extra time to, well, adjust."

Val grimaced. "Before I'm assigned a lifetime of drudge work in a high mana hotspot or such, probably within a mine just like this one, am I right?"

Elise smiled. "Well, you're talented in magic and you have a fair head for tactics so you might make a fair amount of coin working security detail. But honestly, Val, I think you'll get the hang of things if you just give it time. Besides, you have allies now."

Val blinked. "I would love to have allies. Genuine friends would be even better. But I thought I was just sort of a partner of convenience?"

Elise tilted her head, gazing at Val thoughtfully. "Let's just see how it all plays out, Val. Now if you're ready, I think it's high time we left this place."

Val took a deep breath as she led them back to the library, dipping his head to curious brows raised, the captain and Halvar both smiling at seeing an upright Val.

"Good to have you with us again, kid."

"Thanks, Captain."

Sten nodded, turning to Gregor. "Give him the tome."

Gregor frowned but did just that, handing Val the volume he recognized as the one dealing with internal magic resonance. "Every night when we make camp, and every day you are with us once we escape from here, however long or short a time that is, you are to study that tome. Elise has also agreed to help you as best she can to understand the diagrams' inner meanings. Her gift to you for having our backs during this journey, just as the borrowing of this tome is a gift from us as a whole."

Val solemnly dipped his head. "Thank you, Captain." He flashed a grin. "I get the feeling uncontrolled magics wouldn't exactly be welcome above."

Sten shook his head. "You'd be death on any ship, casting spells in space if you risk blowing out life support, and as you can no doubt tell by my title, I own a ship." He flashed a mirthless smile. "You're damn right I will want your oath to cast nothing while on a ship with me, and instead to spend your every waking hour learning how to read, studying that tome." His gaze turned thoughtful. "If you could master it, you'd be a valuable addition to any corporate or government entity, able to use magics without damaging priceless hardware while doing so. And a life as a well-paid corporate troubleshooter is a hell of a lot better than one maintaining an Elementium mine, digging in the trenches."

Halvar nodded. "Our ability to refine Elementium has grown leaps and bounds. No need to use the poor souls of children. But actually pulling the ore from the ground? Still done with shovel and pickaxe. Even to this day. No machinery will work with all the background arcane radiation. Thank goodness high mana levels aren't inimical to organic life, sentience seemingly linked to magic in its own way, if you believe the would-be druids out there."

Val nodded, realizing that they had all planned this in advance. Far from being offended, it meant a lot that they even cared enough to bother. "Thanks, Captain, all your support means a lot to me." He grinned. "But do they really still mine with shovel and pickaxe in an era of lasers and battleships flying across the heavens?"

Halvar grinned. "They have wizards in the south. Down there they skirt by a lot of the problems with wizards by using steam technology, mostly. But even so, steam drill water tanks tend to rupture when used in Elementium mines, which may or may not kill everyone working around them."

Elise nodded. "High mana levels change boiling points and vapor pressures. It can be erratic, for all that it never effects resonances vital for life. Only at higher pressures and temperatures, the realm of steam, if you will, do we see problems."

Val frowned. "Let me make sure I have this straight. A wizard casts a spell and your high tech laser, computer, spaceship, has circuits fried. But a steam engine will go along chugging just fine. Unless your steam engine is mining for Elementium or other magic minerals. Then it too will go kaput, and all you have then is muscle to mine out that ore."

Elise nodded. "Correct, for the most part. For all that spells disrupt mana-electromagnetic coupling, rendering technology all but worthless around a wizard, steam-powered machinery is fine to use around them. But spells aren't the same as a vast field of Elementium rich ore one is suddenly only inches away from, in a mine."

"You know a lot about magecraft," Val complimented.

"Hardly, Val. I was trapped on the giant ship above our heads for years, and knowing the politics and strengths and weaknesses of the tribes below is the duty of any Highlord. One must know these things to elevate those who are worthy, and to crush those that dare to defy you." She swallowed and looked away. "At least, that is the philosophy we were taught to embrace."

Val grimaced. "So basically, my choices in life are to learn to read by the time I'm considered an adult, or look forward to a life toiling with a pickaxe in a mine."

"Got it in one, Val," the captain said. "Now let's get that Silbion, and focus on getting the hell out of this mine. "

14

"That, lad, was impressive," Halvar said, clapping Val on the shoulder.

"Well done, Val," Sten quietly commended. "A useful trick for anyone in our profession."

Val grinned, thankful that his ability to store the Silbion Gregor had been so afraid to leave behind had worked without a hitch, even with the weight of everyone staring at him. And he was able to summon it forth again with ease when Gregor had suddenly accused him of somehow absorbing all their wealth forever. And save for a grumbling Gregor's certainty that this proved his status as a homunculus beyond any reasonable doubt, the others were seeing him less as a burden, and more as a useful ally. And that, to Val, was worth its weight in gold.

"Just how deep does this mine go?" Gregor grumbled.

Val knew exactly how he felt. Though grateful they had encountered no more spirits, specters, or shadowknights since passing the vile cathedral, it seemed that they had just scratched the surface of the byzantine maze of tunnels snaking through the ground, an increasingly grim Sten picking tunnels seemingly at random, and Val could all but feel the weight of a hundred tons of stone pressing down upon him. The thought of being trapped in a dizzying maze of tunnels as he slowly died of thirst was not an appealing one. And for all that this universe sometimes felt like the most exciting of adventure games and the sense of growing in potency was incredible, Val was painfully certain that he had no backup saves. Should he die in these tunnels, it just might be forever.

Elise frowned, gazing at Halvar.

"Sorry, darling. My eye and map matrix are both down. No point in even trying to tweak my blaster, unless the situation is dire. The breakers will just flip out of sync again within minutes. And even if I could hold it all together, I risk frying it to slag if I dare use it with the arcane fields this high. The important thing is we're leaving markers. We won't end up going in circles, and we have the route if we need to go back. But as far as figuring out the best route forward? The captain's hunches are our best bet."

Val took a deep breath, steadying himself, knowing that they were trusting in the captain's intuition, that infamous luck that had landed Sten into just as many hot spots as it had pulled him out of, if Halvar's gregarious tales of an hour or two ago had even a grain of truth to them. They had shared a quiet camaraderie for awhile, when they had thought the worst was over. Now, realizing they were going deeper than ever, the tight knots in their bellies, the fear that only death awaited them below, had taken its toll. Heavy silence had descended upon them all once more.

Val sighed, looking down at his feet. For all that Gregor was a disparaging pain in the butt, Val wouldn't forget that he was also the only one who had thought to whip together the strips of strangely resilient fabric attached to the frames of what must have been ancient tapestries into more than serviceable slippers. They did nothing for shock absorption, but they protected his feet from the sometimes rough stone they now walked across, shimmering bits of green gold fire to be seen sparkling deep within, like veins of brilliant quartz, even now.

Gregor whistled. "By the Ancestors, this place is still rich in Elementium." He gave a rueful sigh. "We could make our fortune as legitimate miners, assuming it didn't bore us to tears."

Halvar's throaty chuckle boomed through the air. "Let's focus on survival first, my friend. Wealth second." His brows furrowed, looking at the raw veins of Elementium. "I don't care if these tunnels were made centuries ago. Ore this rich would never have been left unplundered without a damn good reason. Their refining process was a nightmare, but lives were cheap back then, and I haven't heard of even virgin mines playing out ore this rich in a very, very long time."

Gregor grimaced. "You just had to say it, didn't you?"

Halvar smirked. "What, that we are five lost fools with only a day's worth of water, two if we stretch it, trapped inside a vast mining empire that saw fit to abandon this enterprise at the height of its wealth and glory? With all their resources to fight off whatever threat was here?"

Gregor did not look happy. "Yes, you damned fool, exactly that."

Sten hissed and raised his hand. "Cover it!" He snapped, Val instantly understanding without needing explanation, slipping the glow stick he had been supplied within its sheath in a heartbeat, icy coldness flowing over him, letting his mind blend in with the darkness all around.

Then Val heard it. An awful gibbous roar, and it was all he could do to keep his icy calm, not to snap back into himself as dread pricked his very soul.

Gregor whimpered, terror clearly writ on his gnomish features.

A subtle flash of blue deeper than color, Val could feel the tingly sense of Psionic energy being released, catching sight of Elise standing as resolute as he, her hand gripping the hilt of her deadly blade.

Val was struck by a wave of mortal terror even as Gregor began to sob and whimper. And with the same cold resolution he embraced every night he saw combat a lifetime ago, he let it all fade away. Sinking into the darkness of his bleak, killer's soul.

He did not fear the dark and the horrors it held. He was the dark. The most savage predator of all.

Icy eyes looked back at a startled Sten. He did not hear his own words, for how could shadow speak? Only knowing that his intent was understood. He would scout ahead and report back.

"Val, what the hell are you doing?" Furious alarm. Val ignored Sten, approaching the end of the tunnel as it opened into a vast, glittering cavern.

"Where the hell did he go?"

"He's using Shadowmind, Sten. Let him do what he was trained to do." Elise, seeking to calm, her voice almost fatalistic.

"He's just a child, Elise. That's either howling wind or death ahead. And my luck is telling me nothing."

"You're assuming he's real at all. And if he is, he is an adult by the laws of his tribe, and he has fought in battles as savage as any we have seen." She sighed. "Besides, there is nothing we can do. He's in so deep I can barely sense him."

Their words faded away like the babbles of a distant brook, Val slipping into currents eerie and strange. Sinking his sense of self deep into the cavern, he could feel the currents of power flowing through it. The brilliant flicker of the crystals lining the ceiling overhead, shafts of light not from the sun but from Elementium flashing, minute amounts of potential energy flickering from the arcane to the electromagnetic spectrum in a collision of quantum probabilities that Val did not fathom so much as feel, sense, and accept. He could taste the stone's potential energy, and a part of the darkness that was Van wondered if he could somehow harness it for the mission at hand.

Whatever that might be.

Shadows, slipping through the darkness.

An awful roar cut through the vast cavern once more.

A presence vast and terrible, utterly dwarfing Val's own.

Flashes of a hideous psyche he sensed then. Unending hunger, the screaming death rattles of a thousand souls. Furious spirits trapped in unending torment. Devouring the souls they held captive and themselves in an endless swarm of agony and sacrifice that perpetuated and renewed the dark curse trapping them in nightmare unending. (Wait, how could he sense all this?) He shuddered. Ruthlessly subsuming his personal ego even in the instant the hideous presence ahead stopped its furious howls.

Sensing him.

For the barest second.

Then nothing.

For he was already around the monstrosity just yards away from a single point of his being. He was the cavern. The night. And had known this hideous creature since the first black mages catalyzed it into existence in a bitter struggle for control of the mines. Ruthless wizards reveling in their twisted mastery, seeking control over that which had once brought so much wealth to the empire that had once stood tall and proud, with glittering cities of glass and bronze.

Endless centuries ago.

This creature had been but one of many, forged and catalyzed into being in a hideous war that had left no survivors, save those wise or terrified enough to flee at the first exchange of magics, the mines themselves becoming a battleground of death and despair that continued long after every mortal soul had perished.

For some things still persisted. Feeding off trace amounts of Elementium.

Ravenous in its hunger for richer, more vibrant sources of nourishment still.

The body of Val shivered, for all that his mind was one with the darkness, glittering crystals above piercing not at all the shadows below, the awful construct slipping past him as his body seemed to move of its own accord. If the foul creature had a nose, it was psychic senses it seemed to rely on now, for it paid Val no heed.

Even as Val stood stock still, inches away from hideous black death, his dispersed psyche had slipped into the roaring tides of potency and deepest magic that finally explained why this mine had been the sight of so much horror. Endless constructs of living nightmare fading only with centuries of disuse, mischance, and folly, save for abominations like the one slithering about the vast chamber, reliving battles it had fought, kills it had made endless years ago.

The primal power of magic in its purest form.

He could taste it.

The terror and thrill of it washed through him.

"Trouble."

Sten hissed and jumped back, his blaster pointed straight at Val before his look of panicked fury faded to one of supreme exasperation. "What the hell are you doing, Val? Don't sneak up on us like that."

Sten frowned, gazing strangely at Val. "Val, are you alright?" He swallowed. "You look... strange."

Halvar, normally of the bemused smile and wry quip, was now gazing at Val warily, as if he was himself a threat. "Sten, why don't you step back and give Val some room? Val, I think it's time for you sit down and relax." Gentle words that nonetheless expected to be obeyed, Sten frowning after the fact, realizing, perhaps, that Halvar's former deference was based on friendship, not obsequiousness, the giant soldier ready to take command, should the situation warrant it, at any time.

Elise was gazing almost sadly at Val, her blade held at the ready, he noticed.

He did not let their wariness bother him. He had no ego. He was no damaged child dealing with horrors most young soldiers were rarely equipped to face. He was the deliverer of those horrors, and felt only icy satisfaction at seeing a job well done. He was the night itself, the cavern, and all its lost, terrible secrets.

Shadowmind Rank 3 achieved! Congratulations, Val. When you embrace your darkness, you don't go half-way! What do hideous abominations of shadowy darkness have that you don't? Creatures that normally taste horror and fear sense nothing from you. It's like you're invisible! Or perhaps you're just a little bit too comfortable with the screams of tortured souls echoing through your psyche? Here's to hoping you don't snap in a killer's frenzy. Fresh starts and all that!

Val ignored the message flashing in his mind's eye. It was just one more detail of this place, this time. He was not horrified, fearing he was trapped in a game, or that he had sprung from an even more arbitrary simulation. There was only this moment, the dark truths he knew, the tools at his disposal. Quantified power was information, itself another useful tool. That was all there was, that was all that mattered.

"Okay, Val, if you're going for the warrior's gaze, I'd say you got it in one. Let's save it for the bad guys though, alright? You're really making Halvar uncomfortable with that stare." The captain flashed a smile, but Val could taste his fear.

And that alone made him feel ashamed.

Val lowered his head, snapping out of the hideous darkness he had embraced so fervently, dizzy and shaking.

His heart lurched. Breath coming out in ragged gasps, realizing how close he had stood to the most hideous of nightmares. Living death looking for fresh prey.

Val swallowed, fighting to keep his calm. "Captain, that... thing. By god, it's... it's..."

"What?"

Val shivered. "It's like hell given sentience and form. Living death. Endless torment. An ancient abomination, given awareness and life and a thousand souls to feast upon. And all of it is twisted into a hideous matrix, chords of force wrapping all the parts tightly together." Val swallowed. "Those...demons feed upon the souls butchered in its creation. Feed as well upon the screams of whatever poor fools it catches in these mines. Not allowed to die, never that. Eternal agony gives this thing too much energy. Enough energy to survive for centuries."

Elise's gaze was one of horror. "No. Ancestors, no. Such a thing cannot exist. Cannot be allowed to exist."

"Can we stop it with these awful flights of fancy?" Gregor pleaded. "Look, why are we spooking ourselves for no reason? We know this kid's eccentric at best. If it's not the wind blowing through cracks that might actually point the way to the surface, it's probably just another one of those vile specters."

Val took a grateful sip of water, the flask silently handed to him, his companions seemingly comfortable with him once more, before closing his eyes. Breathing deep. Retreating from the frightened boy. Becoming his true self once more.

He opened his eyes.

Gregor hissed and lurched back. "I hate it when he does that."

"What is it, Val?" Sten, his gaze a mixture of respect and apprehension.

"The tunnels branch endlessly. I cannot sense the way out yet. But the tunnel you seek, the one leading to ancient water cisterns somewhere deep below is at the farmost end of the cavern ahead." He flashed an icy smile. "And that is the one this horror is guarding."

Gregor's eyes widened. "I don't care how good you are at giving cold stares, Val. How the hell do you know where water is? How the hell did you sneak past that thing, if there is even anything there at all?"

Val shrugged. To analyze his state was to disrupt it. He was the darkness. He was the cavern. He knew its secrets, or was just a heartbeat away from truly slipping back into that state; half Val, half darkness at that moment. All that mattered was that he could sense the cavern and the tunnels beyond.

Sten frowned, shaking his head. "So how the hell do we get past that thing?"

Val shrugged. "You can't." He flashed a bleak smile. "Many have tried before. None have succeeded. It is very good at finding desperate prey."

Gregor paled. "There is no way you can know this. No way. You're making this whole thing up. Admit it!"

Elise trembled. "Val, what are you, really?"

Val did not answer either of them. He turned to the captain. "The only way you can possibly hope to pass and survive is to defeat your foe."

Sten frowned, dark eyes gazing right back into Val's own. "Alright, Val, what do you suggest?"

Val took a deep breath, and shared his plan.

"That's madness," Gregor hissed. "Pure madness! Catalyzations like that are never used deliberately. Never! Millions of credits worth of resources, and it breaks every treaty and law of war!"

"It doesn't bloody matter if we die in here!" Sten snapped, taking a deep breath. "I don't care if his plan is crazy. I only care that it works." He turned to Val, eyes hard. "I can only assume by your idea that you already have the tools we need to catalyze it?"

Gregor paled. "You mean he's been carrying both elements with him?"

Sten smirked. "Credit where its due. He did negotiate for himself the right to take what we left behind. And though I'm not happy that he put our lives at risk, I won't deny that it will come in useful now."

Gregor's pallor had only grown. "Oh, Heaven's mercy. Wasn't he stumbling on the ground at one point? How the hell are we not all blown up?"

Sten shook his head. "Questions for another time." His gaze was hard, but forgiving. "Don't worry, Val. If your mad little caper actually works, I won't condemn you for what foolishness you committed that helped us in the end. But in the future you clear carrying volatiles with me, understood?"

Val flashed the tiniest of smiles. "Don't worry, Captain. I won't endanger you." He turned to Gregor. "Pull yourself together. We need you focused."

Gregor's dread turned to speechless outrage. "You presume to counsel me? You naive, arrogant, illiterate whelp? Of all the nerve... how dare you!"

Val nodded. "Good. Anger is better than fear. Anger makes you impulsive, but fear can unman you entirely. Far better to be angry than afraid. Best to be cold as the dark, if you can embrace it." Val frowned. "But I see that you can't. So anger will do."

Gregor looked all the more irate for Val's cold assessment.

"I need whatever vials and flasks you are carrying. Any type of container you might have on you."

Gregor turned his furious gaze to the captain.

"Do it," Sten said, favoring Val with a strangely appraising gaze. "If this fails, we're all dead anyway. If it works, Val might just be worth the trouble of keeping him." The captain flashed a cold smile of his own. "If I'm going to play guardian, I'd rather the lad I care for be able to think on his feet when the chips are down."

Halvar grinned. "Kid's a natural warrior. You can see it in his eyes. If we can get him literate, I can think of a couple academies that might make something of him."

Sten nodded. "All of you. Any flasks save our water flasks, now's the time to pull them out."

Elise wordlessly passed four crystalline flasks and one shimmering satchel of silk-like fabric that also reminded Val of rubber. Halvar did the same, and Gregor, last of all, passed three flasks, grumbling all the while. "Madness," he said. "We'll all be sentenced for high crimes if this ever gets out."

"Then it will never get out." Sten's voice was hard as stone. Gregor paled and swallowed, giving a jerky nod of his head.

"I sure as hell won't tell anyone," the little man said.

Halvar flashed a bleak smile, locking gazes with Val. "Real soldiers know that battle is a lot more visceral and ugly than politicians like to think. Sometimes you have to be ruthless in ways that could get you court-marshaled, if anyone peers too deeply into affairs that are none of their concern. Fortunately, no one ever does."

Gregor rolled his eyes. "Yes, everyone knows that, Halvar. But exothermic catalyzations?"

Halvar grimaced, shaking his head. "This isn't war, Gregor, and those aren't people. That's a horror that would see us all writhing in its clutches. And before you say Val's deluded, just look into Elise's eyes. She knows he spoke the truth. Hell, for all we know, she senses it too."

Gregor shook his head and turned away. "Blasphemous waste. Best hope no one ever finds out, that's all I can say."

Val had taken that time to slip into quiet meditation. Without having to explain it, his companions seemed willing to give him that time. Maybe it was the quick look he had sent Elise's way, but when he sat down, lowered his head, and began to breathe deeply and slowly, tuning out the world, her soothing whispers over uncertain grumbles were all he heard as he lost himself for endless minutes, knowing the threat before them was content to guard the vast cavern just beyond the curve of their little bit of tunnel, blocking the only true path forward.

"What's he doing?"

"Readying himself."

"All he did was skulk, earlier. That can't take too much energy."

"Let it go, Gregor." Elise's voice. Val, himself once more, focused on it, slipping free of his meditation.

She flashed him a smile when he opened his eyes. "Did you know you snore when you sleep?"

Val grinned. "Don't kid yourself. It was a deep breathing exercise."

Her grinned widened. "You remind me of my little brother. He practiced the exact same meditation every afternoon that he should have been studying." She shrugged. "Maybe his trick actually worked. Wanting to do more with his life than just manage our estates, he became an engineer with flying colors. He always said it was from diligent study and meditative focus. Personally, I think he just had a knack for the field and could get away with being a lazy boy who slept in most days before getting into whatever mischief caught his fancy."

Val smiled. "He sounds like a great kid."

She nodded, eyes soft with rare warmth. "He's the lead engineer and part owner of a starbase far from here. His gifts assure that the base hires only the most honest of employees and the most talented of engineers. He has two wives, three children, and they're all very happy." Her gaze grew solemn. "Are you sure about this, Val?"

Val swallowed, heart in throat, at that moment as human and anxious and uncertain as he had ever been. "I got a good look, a good feel for the terrain. When I was deep, I really got a sense of the place." He swallowed, forcing a more confident nod. "It's strange, how things click together in that state, almost effortlessly. Now I look back and I think, what a bit of brilliant madness." He flashed a rueful smile. "God, I hope I don't get killed doing this."

Elise's gaze grew solemn. "It's a very real possibility, Val. What you plan does verge on madness."

Val lowered his gaze, doing his best to hide the icy fear suddenly coursing through him. To have to get so close to a living, breathing incarnation of hell. Demons locked in a horrific crystalline matrix of pain and suffering, endlessly spewing their black fury upon the souls trapped within.

"The matrix is vast, the form is fluid. There is no way Halvar's laser could burn enough of it before it flowed over all of you. And my flame? By the time I scorched a few layers, I'd already be buried in it. Even your sword, Elise, would slice arcane strands as well as globby flesh left and right, but there are thousands of connections. It would be like trying to slice through a swarm of jellyfish stinging you to death."

Elise shook her head. "But what you're planning is still fraught with unspeakable peril."

He shrugged and sighed. "I know. But if the sense I had of it is right, and if shock waves work anything like they do on Earth..."

"Which itself might be a simulation?"

Val's shrugged. "Earth computers helped us predict a vast number of solutions, just using simulation software. Maybe what works on Earth roughly models what would work here, and for what we're planning, a rough approximation is all we need."

Elise shrugged. "Either that, or we all die in rather spectacular fashion." She gazed meaningfully down at the jury-rigged sling Halvar had put together for him. "Are you sure that will work?"

Val nodded. "Five rocks thrown in the right general direction, one flask filled with precious water, sacrificed to the cause. Thank god my passion for reenactment included a summer of figuring out archery, javelin throwing, and the sling. You don't need a training partner for it, and my father actually thought it was a neat hobby, getting me a good quality bow, and javelin throwing is part of track and field, not that you know what that is." He chuckled softly. "Of course, he made me stop with the sling when I managed to smash a rock through a glass window."

"That last bit doesn't inspire confidence."

Val grinned. "Yes, but now the object is to smash as much glass or crystal as possible."

Elise nodded. "We're counting on you, Val."

Val swallowed and spoke. "Too bad Gregor seems to feel anything but confidence in me, and he's the one I need to ask counsel from."

"Let's not put it off, then. Come on."

Val nodded, walking down the tunnel a bit to where the others were preparing themselves, Halvar flashing Val a welcoming grin, the captain giving him a nod, and Gregor favoring Val with nothing more than a suspicious scowl.

"I hope you don't get us all killed, kid."

"Thanks, Gregor. I'm hoping you can guide me in regards to just that topic."

Gregor squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "Do I even want to know?"

"The ratio of Elementium to Silbium in the mixture that filled my, well, birth chamber." Val swallowed. "You did say it was highly explosive, right?"

Gregor scowled. "Of course. That's an inane question. You already know that. Everything we are planning depends upon that. What's the point?"

Val closed his eyes, gathering himself. "Tell me all the catalysts that can cause this exothermic reaction you so fear."

Gregor shook his head and cursed, turning to Sten. "Are you really going to gamble our lives on this idiocy? Val clearly has no idea what he's doing."

Sten's gaze hardened. "Answer the question, Gregor."

"Fine." He turned to Val. "Any decent surge of energy could set it off, depending upon how much Elementium is saturating the Silbion. Concussive force, heat, electricity, laser fire, mage fire I suppose... pretty much anything that jolts it out of its very, very fragile energy state, catalyzing the release of ever more energy til all you are left with are traces of highly depleted Silbion and a gigantic hole that will be all that remains of certain arrogant idiots who could have better spent their time learning how to clean septic tanks."

Val nodded, taking a deep, calming breath, knowing that when he embraced his terror once more, Gregor's caustic cuts would wash over him like the dribble they were. "Okay. Good. I know you'll love this next question. The Silbion Elementium concentration of the liquid in my... crypt. Was it the least stable? Or would adding more Elementium make it even more unstable? And would that increase the power of the catalyzation?"

Gregor's eyes widened. "You are mad. Truly mad. You know that, right?" He turned to Sten. "This idiot is not taking any of the Elementium bars we found and mixing it into his toxic brew! Even if it's mostly lead, the coating is still worth good credits. It's the only reason why we're carrying around that weight, and if this idiot's going to do what I think he's going to do, we're all dead!"

Sten frowned, turning to Val. "How much do you need?"

"Madness!" Gregor hissed.

Val took a deep breath. "Right now I just need to have some sense of how the concentration correlates with force and instability."

Sten turned to Gregor who adamantly shook his head. "No one knows anything, save that dissolving Elementium into Silbion is a good way to waste a fortune! That, and even pursuing the matter is a breach of so many accords it defies belief! If anyone knew, they kept that terrible information with them to the grave. They certainly didn't codify it in any chart any of us would ever have access to." He looked pointedly at Halvar who adamantly shook his head.

"No, Gregor. That kind of madness would have had too many people gunning for my unit's heads. Black operations can be justified if you win the right people to your way of thinking. What we're talking about never is."

Gregor turned his hot gaze to Val. "Do you understand, boy? Even the former killer in our ranks thinks this is a terrible idea!"

Halvar frowned. "I didn't say Val's idea was terrible."

"But you just admitted that your company never used exothermics, even fighting for your lives.

"True. But those were operations that could be linked back to us, however tentatively, even if only our employers knew. No one cares that much about the ebb and flow of power, victors tend to be forgiving of the catalysts that caused even violent change, so long as they can be paid to leave. But what we're discussing would raise the eyebrows of every Highlord with aspirations of megalomania in this corner of the known galaxy. And they'd all convene on that puffed up dictator in that backwater world who suddenly rose to power through exothermics, and they'd make an example of him such that people would remember his screams for centuries."

Halvar gave a cold shake of his head. "We did not mess with exothermics. Ever. No point in surviving an engagement only to die in a Highlord's pain vat."

Gregor's brows furrowed with confusion. "So how are we not in complete agreement that this is a bad idea?"

Halvar sighed. "Because we are a mile underground? We are not using exothermics on humans but on hideous horrors? One could even argue, however archaic the claim, that we were using it for purposes of construction or demolition."

Gregor swallowed. "They'd still crucify us."

Sten shook his head. "We'd be fined, imprisoned, left destitute. But if all they see is fools who dared too much during a mining excavation, not bloodthirsty monsters using this against people, we would be spared death by pain vat."

Elise nodded. "And if we keep our minds closed and our mouths shut, no one has to know a single thing."

Gregor sighed. "Of course, the first Highlord we run into, we're goners."

Elise shrugged. "I think we already knew that would be the case, Gregor. It's why we're hoping for a quick fortune to bribe off the outstanding warrants, then we live quietly below the radar in some out of the way corner, with enough credits left over that we aren't destitute."

Halvar nodded. "I wouldn't mind a golden retirement. But since most of us have centuries left, nothing says we can't sign up for a colonizer when this little expedition is done."

Sten frowned. "Suspended animation for centuries as we are flung out to colonizable stars beyond the warp networks we have in place?"

Halvar grinned. "No greater adventure. All previous crimes forgiven, so long as they weren't too egregious, and the payoffs we will make should assure that's the case. Or, we can explore the possibilities at the edge worlds. Always ripe trade opportunities at the periphery of the dominion, and our gentle overlords tend to pay little heed, so long as they get their cut of the action."

Val tuned out their words. It was obvious he'd have to figure this next part himself.

"Val, what are you doing?"

He turned to Elise. "This part I have to handle on my own."

She blinked, looked about to say something, then finally just nodded, stepping back.

Val felt the comforting cloak of darkness seep into his soul, flowing through him once more. His meditative rest had revitalized him. He was ready to embrace this state the entire night, as long as it took to see the mission through, and the wreck he might be after the fact didn't matter. All that mattered was that he embrace his true self, here and now.

He closed his eyes, bringing up the checkerboard matrix that served as a convenient metaphor for the spacetime rift that was somehow the birthplace of his being, and would always remain linked to him for so long as he existed. He unstoppered the first crystalline flask, then accessed his Silbion reserves, releasing a splash into the beaker, not looking too closely at the weird shimmering void that seemed to appear right at the tip of his forefinger as the liquid poured in.

He very carefully tilted the beaker so the liquid Silbion touched his finger, then deposited a steady flow of pure Elementium powder into the mixture, sensing the furious couplings of the particles in ways subtly different from standard chemistry, the Psion and Mana fields interacting in ways he could feel but were entirely beyond words. He could just see the faintest sparkles of light glittering through it, and perhaps it was his own willpower buffering the catalyzation taking place that kept him safe, assuring that the solution was now as stable as he could make it.

He nodded to himself, certain that the wizards of this world never thought Greater Alchemy would be used in quite this way, at least not for centuries, but he was finding it exceedingly useful now. He frowned in sudden thought, putting down the flask and stepping back, pleased to find that his sense of the contents within, his ability to somehow regulate their reaction had not lessened since he had stepped away. He walked back a bit further, pleasantly surprised to find that his ephemeral grip on the container still held true.

"Val, what are you doing?"

Val gasped and spun around, Gregor abruptly raising his hands and lurching back, bushy eyebrows blinking in surprise as he stumbled to the ground. "Don't do that!" he hissed. "I just came to make sure you weren't going to blow us all to heaven!"

Val grimaced, giving an apologetic nod, lowering a hand to help Gregor who was having none of it, brows furrowing, getting up himself. "Did you find an Elementium bar we had missed? Show me what you are doing." His words were almost imperious.

Val shrugged. "Sure, Gregor, if you want to see me jury-rig things, you're welcome to, but I am at a delicate point, and I can only hope I don't blow myself up." He smiled. "You're welcome to join me, but can you imagine what would have happened had you startled me with a flask in hand, and I had dropped it? Thank goodness I intercepted you here!"

Gregor paled, backing away. He swallowed once. "I will tell the captain you are making progress at... whatever the hell it is that you are doing." He then scurried away some distance back down the tunnel, the group having made the prudent decision to camp a fair distance away, hopefully beyond the range of any disaster Val might cook up. As they had encountered no trouble after the cathedral until now, and the nightmare before them was, according to Val, content to let the flies come to it, they felt somewhat safe. But everyone knew they were living on borrowed time. If they couldn't get past the horror ahead, they were as good as dead anyway.

Val took a deep breath, realizing two important things. One, he had to master the knack for keeping a mental lock on his mixtures despite distractions, and secondly, once he lost his focus, it was hard to reestablish it. He tried for the entirety of the walk back, his mind only 'feeling' out his vial when he was a handful of yards away from it. He was relieved to see it didn't seem in danger of sudden exothermic catalyzation, as his companions put it, being at the concentration present with Val's birth. It was more stable, perhaps, than his friends realized.

He then picked up the vial and with a deep, steadying breath, poured a steady stream of Elementium into the flask, his will clamping down on the increasingly intense couplings he sensed within the vial that was now vibrating in his hands.

He frowned, looking deep into the mixture.

He had doubled the Elementium saturation, and knew in his gut that if he were to lose focus for even a second, his death would be instantaneous and glorious.

Congratulations! You have learned the meta-magic feat: Stabilization Rank 1. Mucking about with the essence of magic and psionics in liquid form as Greater Alchemy allows you to do, you have figured out not only how to separate two highly volatile elements of nature, but how to keep them from obliterating everything around you! Maybe there is something to be said about gambling with your life like a madman? Certainly, you've come far in the last couple of days, and only managed to near kill yourself on multiple occasions!

Pushing away what he was increasingly certain was an overly cynical and snarky subconscious, he took a deep, calming breath, slipping apart the bonds between the two ridiculously unstable elements, drawing the Elementium free of the liquid Silbion once more, then introducing it again at a strength midway between stable and instant detonation.

Val smiled, gazing into the flask, getting a sense of its stability and potential. At its present saturation, it would catalyze with direct application of any intense electromagnetic radiation, or a strong pulse of magic. Certainly his Firestream could catalyze it, but no doubt he'd die in rather glorious fashion if he triggered it at that range. He would have to throw it down with excessive force to get it to explode from impact. He frowned. It was almost unstable enough for the final step. He let a bit more Elementium flow inside til he sensed its stability slide down to a point that he thought perfect, still stable enough not to rupture from simple jostling, but only just. This he poured into the smallest set of flasks, perfect for what he intended.

Securing those in the small convenient pouches lining the utility strap Halvar had gifted him with, he then set to work on a second batch. With these, he very carefully increased the Elementium saturation such that it was nine-tenths that of self-evident exothermic release. He frowned, wiping a suddenly sweaty brow. Any strong concussive force would catalyze it, but he sensed he was safe from ground vibration, so long as no earth tremors shook these caverns in earnest, and Val had sensed not a one since he had arrived at this world. He swallowed and nodded. These would have to do.

Embracing part of his old ritual in preparing for combat, he did a check of all his gear, hands knowing exactly what to do with each component, finding empty vials where he expected, should worst come to worst and he have to act like a madman on the fly. Even as he did this he felt all cares, worries, and fears leave him once more. The anxiety and uncertainty he felt in this bittersweet new life, hopes he had for friendship, growth, security, finding his place without being relegated as an illiterate cripple in a world alien and indifferent to him, even thoughts of Julia, no doubt in desperate peril even now, all this he pushed aside.

In its place he drew in deep dark breaths of the shadowy tunnels and caverns all about. Feeling it enter him, flow into and through him, embracing him as he embraced it with a dark purity reminiscent of the ice savagery that would envelop him as he took on missions never spoken of once they were done. Horrors the government was all too eager to forget, a lifetime ago.

Then, as now, he knew there was no going back. Not ever.

Enemy soldiers, often drunk, stoned, or taking their pleasure with willing or unwilling women in the dead of night were nothing compared to a hideous abomination that fed on the agony and suffering of souls captured and tormented centuries ago. And more recent fools too. Sten's crew was not the first group to stake a claim on this prize, and corrupt administrators weren't going to let a small thing like previous claims and missing explorers stop them from savoring rich bribes and profitable sales.

A part of Val flashed his cynical smile, the other simply accepted that this was the way of the world. All worlds. Predators and prey. An eternal, vicious cycle he himself had spent several bitter, glorious years reveling in with a dark, unholy satisfaction his human side could never share with another soul, not even his father. But now he was free to savor the icy cold glee of stalking his prey once more. That he was placing himself in dire peril was perhaps its own justice, for he had never quite forgiven himself for the things he was embracing even now.

Besides, free as he now was of terror, it only added to the thrill.

No matter that he was a tiny fleck, a single soul sensing the hideous mass of hunger and torment sliding across the cracked stone floor of the vast cavern it endlessly patrolled. Val, who was now but an echo of the cavern itself, flowed effortlessly around it, never so close that the hideous undulating tendrils of shadow and rainbows could feel out Val's form. Though seemingly blind and deaf, what the creature really hungered for was the mental vibrations of terror and alarm that so marked sentient souls gazing upon its horror.

Val smiled, Psionic and Arcane Perception giving him an insight into his prey, a monster that could kill him near instantly, in ways he could never mirror back on Earth.

His traps were set.

It was time.

"Val! Quit mucking about, and get back here! Captain's found an alternate route!"

A horse whisper that was almost a shout. Gregor's voice, his mind open with worry and fear, hands holding his glowstick in ways he thought so clever but that to Val seemed to fill the vast chamber with light.

The gnomish man couldn't see through the blackness. He wasn't one with the shadows, the darkness all around. He was a terrified, frightened fool, only now screaming as the horror Val stalked lit up in brilliant strobing light, instantly honing in on Gregor's terror.

15

For the briefest of moments, Val allowed his mind to dip out of the seas of icy intent that he swam within. "Gregor! Get back to the tunnels now! It will kill you if you stay!"

A brilliant flash of hot crimson, an image of a flailing figure being strangled by blue tendrils instantly projected onto the back of the horror. As if the hideous blob of tentacles and slime sought to strike terror and fear in the prey it suddenly sensed behind it.

Suddenly lively tendrils slammed down upon the jagged stone Val had stood on moments before, only smashing rock, Val's quick reflexes saving him even as his mind slipped into the darkness once more.

Gregor screamed, and suddenly the cavern was streaked by a hot flash of light. Val could see Halvar lit up by the glow, a wild-eyed captain, buckler and blade in hand for all the good it would do him, and Elise, her own exotic sword glowing blue and humming with her own Psion gifts enhancing its arcane edge, all of them came rushing into the chamber, terror pushing them right into the trap Val had set.

He could sense it then.

The creature's cold gloating.

Val had been a fool. This hideous abomination had no doubt tasted the fear and uncertainty of fresh mortal prey lurking in the nearby tunnels. And perhaps it did guard the locus point of the winding matrix of tunnels deep below the ground. But perhaps it had not been content merely to wait. Perhaps it had servants or allies of its own, intent on flushing out fresh meat.

And Val fiercely clenched the terror some part of him desperately wanted to feel, lest he flare suddenly bright upon this being's eldritch senses and be snatched up first, only feet away. Indeed, the quivering jelly-like exterior but feet away from Val began to pulsate, even as Val let icy coldness fill him completely, flowing ever deeper into the midnight blackness of the cavern.

"Stay to the sides, near the cavern walls!" whispered a voice from the shadows, desperate to buy his friends a few moments time.

His companion's fast determined pace had turned to a desperate scramble, shaken with horror as the hideous creature roared, tendrils snapping through the air even as its central mass took on eerily familiar figurines. Pictures of all of them writhing and screaming. The faces were crude, but the meaning was clear. All of them save Val were displayed on the torso of the nightmare creature. Prey it would consume, savoring their suffering for eternity.

"We can't go back!" Sten cried. "specters are coming, too many for Elise to handle! We have to make a run for it!"

Even with those words, Halvar, veteran soldier that he was and perhaps far more savvy handling tech in high magic fields than any typical warrior had a right to be, had somehow jury-rigged his gun to fire even in this rich Elementium mine. Val allowed the tiniest part of himself to be impressed, earlier comments making it clear that this was an absurd feat indeed, and likely to blow up in Halvar's face. Val could respect that as well. For now, bright flashes of crimson light tore through the abomination flashing scenes of their upcoming deaths.

The horror shrieked, tendrils streaking out, near decapitating Halvar before Sten slammed him to the ground, the pair instinctively rolling and racing as fast as their hunched forms could go. "Duck into another side tunnel! To stay in here is death!" Val cried, immediately darting as the words left his lips, furious coldness replacing the burst of panic as he could feel the hot breeze of death missing him by inches, the vile abomination honing in on his presence, massive tendrils slamming the ground with bone-cracking force.

Val flowed away, one with the shadows once more.

A cold eye noted how his companions stumbled in near darkness, the creature closing in, even as ghastly pale figures with burning coals for eyes slowly lurched into the chamber, mad whispers and cackles filling the air.

His friends, seconds away from death. The abomination, fifty yards from where Val wanted it to be. Val could feel the nearest corridor, twenty paces from where he stood. He could make it, just. He looked towards Elise and the others, caught the naked fear underneath the cold Psion discipline she tried so desperately to project. They were only feet away from the nearest tunnel, just past where the horror was starting to flow, tendrils lashing forward as its trunk continued pulsing images of everyone being torn apart, butchering their effigies even as it savored their horror. Its massive body blocked what would be Val's view of his friends, if he wasn't so deep into that icy sense of oneness with the cavern that his sense of its inhabitants was near absolute.

Only the tiniest part of himself was spinning a sling of strange fabric, made up as he was of hundreds of tons of stone and priceless crystal, rock fused under terrible pressures, resonating with the essence of magic itself.

And when that tiny glass vial filled with brilliant Elementium infused potency ruptured against the ceiling, all its arcane potential instantly catalyzed in a massive exothermic wave of energy, Val screamed with real pain as the ceiling burst in a roar and a rain of brilliantly sharp crystalline stalactites speared into the massive living nightmare below, even as the smallest part of himself had ducked into the nearby tunnel, barely avoiding being impaled by crystalline shrapnel pelting into the ground where he had stood but moments before.

He only prayed his friends were alright. Yet even in that instant he released his fiercely clenched burst of will as he catalyzed his mana in a furious stream of fire shot from his palm, feeling the flow of magic rippling from him in a glorious fusion of will, intent, and beauteous flame that was his Firestream spell. He could sense his mana bar flash, feeling it fall some nine percent, his casting unhindered by the corner of his mind focused only upon stabilizing the traps he had yet to spring.

He blinked, taking stock, noting the utterly empty corridor, his brilliant burst of flame a waste of mana. He nodded and took a shuddering breath. He did not mind the expenditure, feeling himself begin to recharge even as he took another deep, steadying breath. For if unseen horrors had been lying in ambush in this tunnel, his burst of fire and fury might have just saved his life.

And wasting no more time, he spun back and gazed into the cavern, the utterly confusing blackness turning to inky comprehension as he felt himself flow so deeply into the bleak coldness of Shadowmind that he was one with the great chamber once more.

Psi-Sense Rank 1 achieved! Adjunct skill to Shadowmind. When you are one with the terrain you have embraced, your psyche slips free of all constraint, just like a sine wave! Too slippery for enemy Psions, or regret, to pin you down. And just like a wave, your mind can interact with all points in your frame of reference. Who knew denial would be so useful for psion-wave echolocation?

Val flowed back into the chamber. His will now no longer holding excitable vials in states of artificial calm, but he could taste exactly where they were, and was very careful where he stepped.

The abomination screeched and howled, and Val could sense the black ichor flowing from its pierced form, scores of jagged crystalline rock having torn through its bulbous flesh, tendrils lashing out in mad frenzy, lashing out and grabbing oddly struggling forms that for one horrifying moment Val thought were his friends, dangerously close to alerting his prey as panic near disrupted his dark communion, before seeing that it was several ghostly specters the horror had snatched up, struggling futilely in the creature's grasp, howling with silent ghostly mouths stretched to inhuman proportions as their spirits were sucked into the raving monster's matrix of souls and dark fury, to be consumed as a fuel of torment, powering the abomination forward.

Or perhaps to make repairs, as Val could somehow sense that the horror's very arcane matrix had been cleaved through by the Elementium rich crystals at multiple points. Mayhap explaining the creatures awful frenzy, and the specter's alarm, never having been preyed upon by the abomination before.

Val felt an icy smile play across his lips, catching sight of the wispy remains of several specters that had also been pierced by scores of the crystalline shards, mana matrixes completely ruptured by the Elementium infused crystals, melting to smoke and ghostly howls even as Val gazed on, before fading to nothing.

Of his companions, there was no sign. Val had done his desperate best to assure that the abomination absorbed the crystal shrapnel entirely, making sure his companions were in its shadow as he angled his shot at the ceiling. A fact that explained why the monstrosity was not injured even more severely. Val had been more interested in facilitating a get-away opportunity for Elise and the others than he had been in guaranteeing a successful killstrike against the abomination. He could only hope that they had made it to the shelter of the closest tunnel.

Val then pushed all such niggling concerns out of mind, gazing down at the mortal flesh he claimed as his own, the tiniest cuts dripping blood from his leg were of minimal concern. It was time now to do what needed doing.

Clamping his will upon the small vial he had just put in his sling, he sent it spinning even as he dashed for cover, pivoting around the roaring horror, embracing maddest risk, approaching his traps, sealing them away with his will once more before darting back the way he had come, approaching another tunnel entrance, then letting his prize slip free, sailing for the ceiling, this time just above the monstrosity.

Val knew his next step would be unforgivably dangerous, yet he wanted his foe so frenzied it wouldn't even think of sensing a trap.

And the second Val tumbled into the cave with the abrupt crack and raining ping of thousands of brilliantly sharp crystalline fragments crashing down behind him, his hand was already jutting out, Val slipping from deepest shadows to crimson brilliance as his mind flooded with the dream of fire, feeling his mana roar forth once more, this time spraying a pair of suddenly blazing specters, surprised ghostly faces twisting in howls of dismay.

Surprise attack! Critical damage! Arcane matrixes are ruptured. Both your foes are critically injured!

Val took his first military lessons to heart, not letting up for an instant, doubling down and pouring forth his fury upon the specter that tried to charge him before shriveling to a bubbling pool of silver ichor even as the other stumbled back, Val feeling his mana reserves burn as he poured ever more heat on the squealing, shriveling specter now crumpling to the ground, joining its companion in death.

Mana 79 out of 109. Congratulations! You have killed two specters!

Val trembled at the sudden infusion of energy pouring into his form, seeing for the briefest flash what seemed a brilliant matrix of numbers and symbols overflowing the shimmering blue line that he took to mean his leveling bar. He wanted to smile at knowing he was more than ready to level up, but all he felt was a curious pressure, and he suddenly wondered what the consequences would be if he was flooded with too much potency before he could rest.

The slightest shiver as he remembered how close he had come to being subsumed that first night by the ghosts and memories of those to fall before him. He could only wonder how bad it would be if he had to level up multiple times in a single night. How easy it might be to become overwhelmed, consumed by madness and subsumed for all eternity by forces alien and strange.

Abomination injured! Abomination enraged! Abomination is looking for the source of its torment. Abomination senses something hiding in the darkness. Shadowmind pierced!

Val cried out as he flowed back into the main chamber, stumbling on suddenly clumsy feat, paralyzed by sudden terror. A thousand eyes gibbering with screams of hellfire and madness suddenly lanced into his own.

His perfect sense of the cavern was gone.

He was just a terrified kid stumbling in the dark; his doom, endless and eternal, before him.

A flash of his father's concerned smile and Val blinked, in that instant that lasted for however long it did, he was free of crimson eyed madness, no longer seeing the thousand mad orbs promising endless agony as it prepared to pierce his soul in endless torment.

Instead he was eighteen, heart racing with anxiety and excitement in equal measure. A chance to prove himself, a chance to start over with a clean slate.

"How are you feeling Val?"

Val smiled through his nervous excitement. "Pretty good, all things considered."

His father nodded as they approached the base, Val's excitement growing to a fever pitch. "I think you'll find basic to be a snap. You'll work hard at it, your muscles will burn in ways our training somehow missed, and a week from now you'll be completely in the zone. Nothing will be beyond you. That being said, I want you to keep two things in mind."

"What's that, dad?"

His father's smile was almost wolflike. "One. I know how hardheaded you are. You'd make an excellent scout, and you think well on your own two feet. But for now, during basic, it's not a test of how savvy you are, so much as can you take orders, endure, act as part of a cohesive unit." His father's sigh quickly turned into a nod of determined approval. "You've taken the harder path, and in truth, some of the best officers start life as enlisted men. They truly understand the men who serve under them, what's really being asked, the myriad things officers fresh out of college who never served a day before in their lives might miss. You might make a damn fine officer one day. But for now? You're a buck private, and you need to learn to follow orders and be part of the team. I know you're clever, Val, but you'd best couch any suggestions you might have damn carefully, lest you end up shooting yourself in the foot."

Val swallowed. "Got it, dad."

His father nodded. "We both know how things are heating up at various hot spots. You know the conversations we've had. What's the number one lesson if you find yourself getting a hot reception, and everything's FUBAR?"

"Keep my head, gather my men, find cover, and take decisive action."

His father flashed a grim smile. "Even if all that means is retreating back the way you came until you regroup, never let yourself be caught flatfooted, too afraid even to move. No surer way of making me going to a funeral I never hope to attend than that."

Val had grinned, knowing his father had been dead serious despite his smile, but at that moment, the birds chirping, the sound of drill just a mile ahead, the bright summer day, he had felt utterly convinced he could take on the world. Nothing would ever get the best of him.

And how bitterly did he rue that arrogance, in the few brief years that followed. Yet as mad and violent as things got in the cauldron of battle, never had he felt as powerless, as overwhelmed as he did in that pitch black cave, the second day of his new life, mind pierced by a thousand crimson orbs screaming for his agony, his torment, his death at their hands.

Screaming with the same choked cries, the same gurgling sighs, as every man to gasp as Val tore out their throats, sniped them from hundreds of yards, or shot them point blank in the back of their heads. Every man ever to die by his hand seemed to rise up; their accusing, milky white eyes blazing into his own, crying out for his death.

Agony eternal, to match their own.

In that moment of supreme, helpless terror, Val remembered his father's final bit of advice that year he joined the military and slipped forever free of the few hostile eyes that still hunted for culprits in the mysterious confession and suicide of a certain star quarterback, the golden boy of school and town alike.

When everything goes to shit, the world exploding in screams and hellfire, one needed to react. To freeze was death.

As much swimming in a sea of nightmare delusion as feeling the cave, Val nonetheless dove back as a massive tentacle crashed down, fragments of rock tearing open cheek and brow, the sharp sting of pain helping to bring his mind back into focus, a gash of blackness in the shadow seen in the space between the hideous delusions his nemesis flooded his mind with. It was all he needed to orient and sprint into action, twisting and darting as death crashed down yet again, the cavern shaking with monstrous howls, and Val thought it a miracle his treasures hadn't ruptured, only then realizing how tight his mind was holding on to a great number of things.

A desperate lurch forward as the ground exploded where his feet had been but moments before. A panicked roll through a narrow tunnel entrance and into the still bubbling remains of the specters he had killed, and desperate relief as his physical body was suddenly out of reach of the howling gibbering horror even now pounding the rock with desperate tentacles, tendrils lashing into the opening as well, Val howling with horror and pain as he stumbled back, screaming as he felt his mind being flailed alive.

-5 hp shrapnel damage. -10 Psion damage.

Val grimaced, fleeing terrors unseen as his mind screamed with the horror of memories unending flooding through him at once. Every injury he had ever suffered, every regret as had ever laid him low flooded through him.

He gasped and sobbed under the unrelenting wave of torment, even as his foe howled in blind fury, trying but unable to reach him with its viciously writhing tentacles.

And even in the horror of living nightmare, trapped in his foe's psychic attack, Val knew he had to take cover and run. Flee this madness, fleet this pain, slip past the enemies closing in.

Past the howling mass of foes chasing after him in the ever growing dark.

Flashes of his time in service touched him once more, Val remembering so viscerally the ever-growing communion he felt with the night, feeling freer in the arena of war than he ever had constrained to the familiar haunts back home.

Slipping effortlessly past a foe who not only didn't understand him, but wasn't even human. On some level he sensed his enemy's terrible gifts as akin to clever guard dogs fixed on a scent trail. A scent trail of anger and regret. So he led them through pitch darkness on a merry chase through darkest woods of memory, slipping at last into a clear stream of emptiness, washing away all ego, all sense of himself, losing himself as deeply into the moment and the reality all around him as could be.

And in that moment, he managed to slip free.

Breathe in, breathe out. Meditating within that passageway, becoming one with the darkness, the night, the blackness of the passageway entirely.

After endless moments that passed in the blink of an eye, the hideous abomination was gone. Howls abruptly cut off, sliding its way through the massive chamber, in search of fresh prey.

Val did not break his focus, his sense of oneness with everything in that vast cavern and adjoining branches. It was not him that waited patiently for the abomination to make its erratic rounds, sure to pass the point of no return eventually. It was only the smallest piece of the whole that waited so patiently for the perfect opportunity to strike.

It was not he that slipped his last full vial inside his sling, slow revolutions turning to a twirling hum that cut through the air, deliberately aiming for the most massive crystals overhead, in perfect position to impact his kill-zone. No. It was time itself, winding the seconds away to its own inevitable conclusion as the ceiling roared and shook, a ton of priceless rubble hitting at just the right point to cause so much of the ancient ceiling to come crashing down, spearing the suddenly alarmed horror in a thousand different arcane intersections, even as the flasks of Elementium infused Silbion buried in shallow shrapnel covered pits suddenly catalyzed to irrevocable excitation by the shock wave of pressure crashing down from above.

The resulting series of exothermic shock waves resulted in the most fantastic of explosions, the chamber roaring as tons and tons of Elementium infused rock tore through the abomination, matrixes ruptured multiple times by shrapnel and shock waves, the beast expiring in an awful howl that echoed endlessly through the vast chamber long after the dust had settled, or at least it felt that way in Val's mind, having ducked and huddled as deep in the side tunnel as he could get, hands clapped over his ears the instant he had jumped through after a single burst of flame, knowing there would be a price to pay despite the vast size of the cavern, no matter that he had placed the magical detonations in the very heart of the chamber.

There was indeed a price to pay for his reckless madness, and pay he did, the shock wave blowing out his left eardrum as his body crashed against the far wall, minuscule pieces of shrapnel still slicing through Halvar's borrowed attire, resulting in multiple abrasions and cuts as his head smacked against the hard stone wall and he collapsed, dizzying blackness drowning him, along with the Abomination's dying shrieks.

And the pain was nothing compared to the hideous rush of that beast's vile energies roaring into his psyche as all its power, all its potential, flooded his soul and became his own.

Shadowmind Rank 4 Achieved! - Even when a creature that should have bested you many times over pierced your wards and flooded your mind, you still somehow managed to break free!

Psionic Perception Rank 2 Achieved!

Arcane Perception Rank 3 Achieved!

Meditation Rank 3 Successfully Quantized! - Nothing aids in overcoming your limitations like battling for your soul against a creature of Hell.

Greater Alchemy Rank 2 achieved! - Continuously catalyzing, decoupling, and stabilizing two of the most dangerous arcane compounds in existence while fighting against insane odds has paid off!

Meta-Magic Feat: Stabilization Rank 2 Achieved! - Not one for balance in any form, you've pushed yourself to the limit, suppressing hideously deadly catalyzations multiple times, when by all rights you should be a crimson smear on the cavern ceiling. Well done!

Demolitions Rank 2 Successfully Quantized! - Who needs Semtex when you can toss around vials of explosive death!

Psi-Sense Rank 2 achieved! You danced through that cavern battling a beast from hell like your life depended upon it, and it did!

Congratulations, you've leveled up! You are now level 3.

Val felt himself caught up in inconceivable storms, buffeted by the desires, the desperation, the agony of all the souls that nightmare had devoured and claimed for itself. All that awful potency, now Val's own. Potency he must claim, or be consumed by it, lost forever to the hellish maelstrom just below the surface of this fantastic reality. And there was nothing he feared more than becoming lost in the madness that defined this realm.

Congratulations, you've leveled up! You are now level 4.

The whirlwind intensified. So much power. So much potency. So awful was the creature he had fought, flooding him to the point where ecstasy became agony and his world flew apart.

Val gasped, desperate just to breathe, drowning in the rush of furious power burning through his psyche, his very soul. Closing out maddening pop-ups, phenomenon of his own disturbed mind, Val focused only on quantizing the terrible growth flooding through him. He strove to direct what was happening, to master the crimson tide of potency before it consumed him forever.

He was struck by memory of Elise's solemn violet eyes, shaking her head at how foolish he seemed, unable to grasp the continuum of connections in even the most basic weave of symbols and lines that served as their means of communicating vast algorithms comprising entire subjects. An encyclopedic tome's worth of knowledge in every diagram, all contained in complex interlocking charts, masterworks of interwoven concepts and correlations that would do the most brilliant physicists proud.

Val wondered if he were something like a chimp or hound to these people. Useful in some militaristic, violent fashion, but on so many other levels a perpetual child to their eyes. So behind the curve it was like they were two different species. And how could he deny the analogy? They really were from two different worlds. One with starships, wizards, and wonder, the other with a race of self-destructive primates slowly poisoning the very world they called home.

A part of Val shied away from the horror of his own failings, just as he did the mad screams of the creature writhing against its awful fate even as Val devoured its potency, claiming it as his own. To know that he was utterly behind the curve, that his future upon this world was looking ever more dire and bleak. A part of his mind wished desperately that he could have been a part of this universe, this world, to grow up and blossom; happy, clever and free, a master of these strange charts, the magnificent potential they held, a beautiful future just a degree or two away.

He imagined so viscerally what it would have been like to attend school, someone like Elise his childhood professor, smiling gently as she slowly explained concepts that finally, after endless hours, days and years of study began to make sense, feeling those first visceral flashes of wonder as his brain finally began to understand concepts so like the most complex uses of algebra and calculus, seeing how a few perfectly understood variables and their correlations could be used to measure and understand a thousand different situations, the answers to endless scenarios to be found in any one of these charts, just by understanding the variables involved.

In constant flux yet self-contained, these visualized ideas could summarize a whole species and its evolution in a single syllable. For all that their verbal language was so like Val's own, at least in how his mind chose to interpret the words, every noun was symbolic, and simultaneously perfectly representative of all the standard variations and strengths of an entire species. Val shuddered to contemplate how many of these variables had to be perfectly understood, their meaning and degrees of meaning somehow self-evident, or else perfectly taught and memorized, so that all would arrive at the same conclusions making use of the same diagrams. And the way they were structured was almost self-correcting. If someone didn't understand a concept, the chart would seem to close in on itself, and they would be left with only confusion.

It chilled Val, the degree of complexity and nuance involved, and he took scarce comfort in what his anthropology professor, with a doctorate on primate evolution would have said. In so many ways we are similar to our closest ancestors, and those gifts we have with mathematics and abstract thought, most particularly language, are thanks to specific nodules, specialized portions of the brain. Gifts of the mind that set us above our closest relatives. Yet without them, we would be little better than chimps, and in many ways, worse off. It was clear to Val that despite the calculus of tactical planning and instinctive reaction that they all seemed to share, outside of the battlefield, his friends had evolved in ways that he had not.

Desperately Val ignored his own pain, the struggles of his suffocating soul, finding solace in focusing himself, centering himself on the gentle sound of Elise's voice as she counseled him through the diagrams of the one tome she had chosen for him to study, an ancient treatise on Personal Resonance Mastery.

And slowly but surely, after what seemed endless hours of effort even as Halvar flew paper airplanes at his head from the back of class, Sten demanding they all leave immediately for recess, and Gregor declaring Val an idiot, a monkey who had no hope of ever learning how to read, it all finally began to make sense.

He could feel it. He could all but taste the ebb and flow of arcane energies flowing through the tome he held. He turned to glare at Gregor, bitter for the truth his smirking classmate knew for a fact. Val would be forever too stupid to understand most of the hideously complex tomes they studied as a matter of course.

But specialized tomes dealing with the arcane arts? Those he had a hope of understanding. His Psionic and Arcane Perceptions somehow letting him feel the ebb and flow of intent and meaning in the exotic symbols scattered throughout the various charts, how the interconnecting lines affected and influenced each piece of the puzzle until the innermost meanings would eventually make themselves clear, even to him.

Val shivered, a smile of wonder gracing his features.

He gazed up in awe at a frightened looking Elise, gasping in shock as the body she had taken for dead gasped a startled breath of still dust-clogged air. "I can read," Val whispered, before collapsing into a stupor once more.

(Basic literacy achieved! Limited to texts of Arcane or Psionic Nature. 3 of 7 points spent.)

(+1 to Scholarship. 4 of 7 points spent)

(Rank 1 in Personal Resonance Mastery. -Initiate- This is a Non-Intuitive Greater Skill. 5 of 7 points spent)

(+10% to Mana, + 10% to Psion, compounded. 7 of 7 points spent.)

Val felt humbled and grateful, as if cresting a steep incline, ready to coast down the far slope, alight with relief and excitement, feeling himself grow in ways wondrous and profound. Growing into himself, the person he was waking up to, the person he had always been destined to be.

Before he was sent crashing into waves of awful uncertainty once more, exhausted and spent, in danger of drowning as the sea of souls he had claimed from the Horror sought to claim his destiny for themselves, desperate not to be consumed by Val in turn.

"Wake up, idiot. Class isn't over."

Val lurched in his seat, head aching, gazing at Sten's handsome, brooding features peering into his own. "I don't know what Elise sees in you. To me, you look pathetic."

Val groaned, feeling dizzy and weak, yet somehow knowing that if he were to leave the door of their old-fashioned classroom, if he were to step away from his wooden desk and too small chair, he would be stepping out of his own life. Forever. Yet how he ached to go to the nurse's station and take one gentle pill, slipping away before the spirits howling and calling him a failure. To escape the heckling crowd of angry, pockmarked kids (twisted, bleeding souls) pounding upon the classroom door, clamoring for the chance to rip him apart.

But it would all be over, at last, if he just cried sick, and went to the nurse.

"Val? Eyes on the chalkboard."

Val fought back his sickening nausea as power continued to burn through his soul, gazing into Elise's gentle eyes once more, finding her more beautiful than ever with her hair curled in a tight, professorial bun, her slate-grey dress prim and proper. A shining white stick of chalk darted across the old slate board, a brilliant shimmering matrix of power and potency forming up with the diagram of symbols and lines being drawn for all their benefit.

"Can you understand this, Val?"

Val swallowed, slowly shaking his head.

Cute furrows formed between his teacher's brows.

"Look harder, Val. I need you to concentrate. It's just the next lesson. You mastered the first, I know you can understand the second. Sense how the magic flows through you every time you cast Firestream."

"Frying our poor lasers," Gregor grumbled from the back, his massive mane of curly salt and pepper hair the same as always, for all that his face was now that of any other sixteen-year-old. "Idiot."

"I could fix mine," said Halvar, holding up his blaster, beaming and proud.

"Sure," Gregor sneered. "But where is your other eye?"

The one-eyed Halvar bowed his head sadly.

Val shook, blinking back tears, futilely gazing at the charts before him.

He felt Elise's hard stare. "Concentrate, Val. Everything depends upon it. Everything you would ever be."

Desperately he stared, finally relaxing, letting the symbols and correlations flow through him. After a time, he gained a rough sense of the big picture. The most basic routes to containing his own energy flows so he wouldn't pulse surges of arcane radiation that could wreak so much havoc in modern society. He blinked and smiled, realizing that there were deeper lessons, even in these basic algorithms. With a sense of relish he studied on, and finally, it all began to make sense.

(+1 Rank to Greater Arcane Skill: Personal Resonance Mastery. 2 of 7 points spent)

(+1 Rank to Greater Arcane Skill: Personal Resonance Mastery. 5 of 7 points spent)

(+10% to Mana, +10% to Psion, compounded. 7 of 7 points spent).

At that moment his classmate's heckling, even the din and roar of scores of students banging desperately on the door outside faded to nothing. Elise's stern gaze softened into a smile. "Congratulations, Val. I think you just might make it."

Val blinked, uncertain as to whether she meant as a student or as someone desperate to survive the rush and flood of cut off lives that had stormed into him with his final kill. He blinked and smiled, realizing that he was going to make it, feeling somehow stronger, more complete, than he had ever felt before in his entire life. He bowed his head in reverence for the lost souls now deathly quiet in the hallway beyond, understanding somehow that they had left. Yet the echo of their passing, the lost potential of all they could have been and done, had somehow been claimed by himself.

It was neither a result of savagery or cruelty. It was simply how it was.

Val closed his eyes, now the master of his dream. He couldn't help grinning as the dream of his character sheet popped up bold and beautiful before him. For all that he knew this world was real, more so, maybe, than his own, he didn't think he would ever get over how well the tools fate had gifted him with could mirror so perfectly the data he would expect to find in his favorite computer games.

For only a moment he was dizzy with the strange symbols before him, before some part of him thought to ask for a snapshot in time, everything rounded to whole numbers as he understood them.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Valor Hunter - Level 4

Primary Attributes

Strength 12

Vitality 13

Finesse 13

Quickness 16

Perception 17

Scholarship 12

Willpower 16

Charisma 11

Luck ?? +1

Health 10xVit+Str = 142

Survival (Health+(10xLevel)+Luck) = 182+?

Stamina 10xVit+Str = 142

Mana 133 (131 Accessible: 5.270 kg + 250.573 kg Elementium Stored)

Psion 133 (131 Accessible: 37 L + 37.8 L Silbion Stored)

Insight 17

Base Appearance 10. +0 (11 charisma) +1 (athletic) = +1 to reaction rolls.

Skills of Significance

Shadowmind Rank 4 / Psi-Sense (Shadowmind Dependent) Rank 2 / Psionic Perception Rank 2 / Arcane Perception Rank 3 / Cypher Rank 1 / Meditation Rank 3 / Rift Mastery Rank 1 / Psionic Oathbinding Rank 1 / Stealth Rank 3 / Sword and Shield Rank 2 / Magesight Rank 1 / Mageward Rank 1 / Demolitions Rank 2 / Basic Literacy Achieved! (Limited to texts of Arcane or Psionic nature)

Greater Skills Learned

Greater Alchemy - Rank 2

Meta-Magic Feat: Stabilization - Rank 2

Personal Resonance Mastery - Rank 3

Jordian Magical Arts Learned

Creation - Rank 1

Manipulation - Rank 1

Fire - Rank 1

Jordian Spells Learned

Firestream Level 20 C/F - Cost 10 Mana

Explosive Retribution Level 30 C/F (Must save against Oblivion when casting.) - Cost 70 mana.

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Val felt a shiver of delight and wonder course through him. He now felt more vital, more connected to the world than he ever had before. Frowning, he took a closer look at the numbers, amazed to see how many skills and Greater Potencies he seemed to be picking up just from intense observation and flashes of insight. Like pieces of a puzzle suddenly clicking together, he could sense how it all fitted together without hundreds of hours of instruction needed. He remembered gaining strength in five core areas during his very first level up, increasing his perception, charisma, luck, willpower, and scholarship. Of course he hadn't so much gained them as gotten in touch with his own true sense of self. Still, careful not to overthink it, he had grown in five areas his first level up, in addition to his Psion and Mana pools, yet in growing from the second to the fourth rank, he had increased only scholarship directly, all his efforts spent towards skill mastery instead.

It chilled him to think it had taken three precious points just to learn the basics of reading. If this were truly a game, he would have loved to give himself a boost of quickness and grace as well as perception, to be ever more alert to danger, and even quicker to respond. But even as he said that he realized that that wasn't exactly how it worked. Whatever the cost, he had wanted to be able to understand things as natives here did, to not be a helpless illiterate in a society that he sensed was both wonderfully complex, and pitiless to those who didn't make the cut, whatever that cut happened to be. Most of all, he had been humbled and humiliated by the bemused condescension, pity, even contempt he had sensed from his companions as a result of his utter lack of comprehension when struggling with the tomes.

Whatever the personal cost, he had burned with the desire to be able to pick up a book and understand the secrets that lay within. Even now, with so much of his potential invested, he knew he would only feel the shifting flow of patterns and meanings in tomes dealing with the Arcane or Psionic disciplines. As if his odd gifts alone would let him sense the shifts in tense and interpretation, substituting for whatever cognitive centers these metahumans had that he lacked.

He looked to his greater skills, sensing that they were among the most potent of his gifts, for all that he thought Shadowmind his most vital skill, tactically. Still, he was beginning to think that despite his shortcomings, perhaps he had talents that did not come so easily to everyone else. He had the feeling that the ability to separate or combine Elementium and Silbion was beyond rare, and here he was, developing his Greater Alchemy skill based on nothing but flashes of insight and active practice, for all that it had been in the deadliest of crucibles, a desperate struggle for his own survival. Yet his Personal Resonance Mastery skill had taken six points to raise to level three. He frowned at the increasing cost, sensing that greater skills were perhaps the most difficult of all talents to level up.

But the gift of literacy, even limited, and the ability to use his gifts with a little less chance of frying his companion's blasters, or god forbid their spaceship, was priceless. He wondered how much less radiation he emitted now than he had before. Could he safely cast spells closer to his companions than before? If it was half the radius with each rank, he was safe up to 1.25 yards, which made fighting beside a working mage a much more realistic proposition for a tech-based ally. Val resolved to test it with his friends, only then recalling just how precarious their situation had been before the hideous abomination had died, ripped apart and buried under tons of rubble. He didn't even know if his friends were safe or in desperate peril, and he resolved at that instant to force himself awake, only to slip into the deepest of slumbers.

16

"Is he awake yet?"

"Humph. I don't know why you treat that simulacrum as a boy. It's clearly anything but."

Val frowned, feeling the cynical words wash over him. His heart skipped a beat as he forgot for a moment where, or even who he was, letting their words wash over him as he fought to get a sense of himself once more.

"That's hardly fair, Gregor. If it weren't for him, we'd probably all be dead."

"Of course you'd say that, Elise. You've imprinted him like a long-lost little brother since the first foolhardy time he nearly blew himself up."

"That's right," the firm, powerful voice of Halvar. "He rushed to Elise's aid without a thought for himself. Foolhardy, but I'd far rather a foolhardy recruit who I know puts the team first than a coward in it only for himself."

"Fine," Gregor sighed. "He's more a loyal puppy than a simulacrum. Not quite human, but endearing in his own way, I suppose. Happy?"

"How is he?" Sten's voice, filled with a strange intensity.

"Still asleep," Elise said, and Val could almost taste her frown. "Though I think he's beginning to stir." Her voice turned bemused. "You can open your eyes, Val. I know you're waking up."

Val felt himself blush as he blinked open gummy eyes. How did he manage to embarrass himself so easily, even doing nothing?

A ragged cough ripped from his lungs. But strangely enough, nothing else hurt, for all that he recalled being slammed into jagged rocks at least once by concussive forces that could easily have resulted in head trauma from the shockwaves slamming through fragile brain tissue. He took a deep breath and forced himself to sit upright, slowly shaking his head, feeling no dizziness, nausea, disorientation or pain. In fact, save for the gazes burning into his suddenly sheepish form, he felt fine.

He swallowed his parched throat, grateful as Halvar wordlessly passed him a flask.

"I guess I'm awake," he said, after taking a refreshing drink, careful not to take too much.

Elise nodded, beautiful features solemn, a hint of something in her soft violet gaze. "How are you feeling, Val?"

Val smiled. "Would you believe I've never felt better?" He chuckled ruefully. "I think leveling up replenishes our health."

Four pairs of eyes gave him the strangest stares.

"What?"

Sten's brows furrowed. "What the hell do you mean, leveling up?"

Val blinked, shaking his head. "Our kills. Our accomplishments. How did Solena put it? The wonders we forge help us to blossom, as do the passions and dreams of all those to fall before us. We can make strides of growth that should take years in but moments, as we harness the potentials and potencies of all the souls to fall to our blasters and blades."

For some reason his words caused his teammates to frown and look away.

He grimaced, wondering if he had put his foot in his mouth once more.

"I'm not saying you're wrong, Val, but the idea that the flashes of insight we gain during times of battle might be due to our psyche devouring the souls of our kills is something most mundanes are loath even to contemplate, let alone speak of so... animatedly," Elise explained.

Gregor shook his head, grey dust with flecks of shimmering crystal fell from his wild curls like flakes in a snow globe. "He sounds like a damned Darklord. No offense, Elise." His brows furrowed with accusation. "Are you sure he's not the puppet of one of their Houses?"

Elise frowned at that, but it was Sten whose gaze froze Val where he sat. "Tell me true, Val. Do you serve a Highlord's House?"

A breathless pause, Val taking in his dust-covered companion's measuring stares, all of them resting in one of the side passageways just past the massive cavern that might or might not have completely collapsed under the force of the catalyzed mixtures Val had used to kill the horror that had patrolled this area for so long. Somehow Val knew that he dare not slip in the coldness of his mind as Elise gazed intently at him. Nothing was more important at that moment than assuring his allies of his integrity, his honor.

"The only Highlord I ever met was named Solena Petrova. She was a vicious monster whose only goal was to capture those of us that she thought had potential. Psions to harvest, is what I think she meant, gathering us all together under false pretexts to kidnap us as a group."

His words hardened. "If there is a reason for my being here, it is to find Solena and the citizens she seized, and bring them back home."

Sten frowned, shaking his head.

"He speaks the truth, Sten," Elise said. "For him I think it's personal."

"How so?" Sten asked.

She gazed almost apologetically at Val. "When he speaks of saving Solena's victims, the face of one girl in particular blazes brightly in his mind."

Val flushed and lowered his gaze.

"By the gods," Gregor moaned. "It's bad enough this kid's an illiterate wildcard, now we have to worry about him trying to beard the lion in his den, trying to rescue his true love from the dreadnought flying over all our heads?" He shook his head, rubbing his temples. "This is not going to end well. I knew we should have left that second sarcophagus alone!"

Val shook his head. "It's not like that. Do I want to rescue Julia? Yes. Absolutely. But it is a brother's love I feel for her. A protector's love. She's still a child, and I'm anything but." He sighed and shook his head. "I guess you could say she's my redemption. Once upon a time, there was someone else very precious to me who I let down, too stupid to understand what needed to be done. I can never change what happened. But I refuse to let cruel folly take away yet another person that I care about."

Sten caught his gaze once more. "No mad heroics that would get us all killed, Val."

Val swallowed. "I'm not intending such, sir. I know I'm not the soldier Halvar is, but even I know the importance of reconnaissance and planning."

Halvar grinned at that, even as Gregor groaned anew.

"Ancestor's mercy, he really is planning on taking on a dreadnought. Madness. Absolute madness."

Val tuned out Gregor's words, focusing instead on Halvar, having seen something in his gaze. "Halvar?"

"Yes, Val?"

He swallowed, looking for the words to say. "You're a soldier. I'm sure you've had to take your enemy's life, from time to time. Is that not so?"

Halvar's once more functioning cybernetic eye hummed softly, his brown human one hardening. "I've seen action dozens of times. I think you can imagine the end result."

Val swallowed and nodded. "I... I saw the way my comment made the others uncomfortable. But even if the words I used, leveling up, made no real sense to you, I get the feeling you sort of know what I mean."

The larger man sighed and looked up towards the roof, Val as well, somehow soothed by the gold-green glow of the Elementium infused crystals overhead, too faint to bathe them in any light more than the crimson radiance Halvar emitted, but comforting enough.

"All you have to do is study the charts, examine the data, and see for yourself that there are... discrepancies."

Val gazed curiously at Halvar as Gregor snorted, mumbling about inconsistencies and wild speculation. "I'm not sure I understand," he said.

Halvar's gaze grew thoughtful. "Tell me, Val, in your world, are soldiers who see active combat better or worse off than soldiers who spend years training, but see no live combat?"

"Honestly, Halvar, in my world, nothing beats live combat for preparing a soldier to endure and survive future battles. But that being said, if we are looking strictly at the quality of life and the potential of the soldier... statistically, the more combat seen, the higher the rate of PTSD and serious lasting physical injury. There is also the stress and strain of battle. It takes a toll on most men."

Halvar nodded. "Exactly. Exactly what the charts suggest. Assuming one doesn't perish in battle, if that factor is removed, then there should still be a correlation between decreased utility and battles endured."

"Of course that's what the data shows," Gregor grumbled. "It would be madness to assume otherwise, quirks in data aside."

Halvar frowned at the smaller man. "What the actual data shows, to a degree of confidence far beyond pure chance, is that the more military engagements a soldier survives, the greater his resultant utility."

Val blinked at that.

Halvar shrugged. "I can't explain it, it makes no sense. But soldiers who endure repeated conflicts tend to excel at their chosen pursuits, advance their skill sets faster even than soldiers embracing royal training regimens, with a longer life expectancy and a higher rate of success in fields external to soldiering when their service has ended. And to this day, not even our savviest scientists can explain it by any phenomenon other than the quasi-religious ones favored by Highlords."

"But we all know that's idiocy," Gregor grumbled. "Theories of balance aside, there is no way any of our destinies should blossom simply because we took away the futures of others. That is so twisted as to defy any concept of decency!"

"There is nothing decent about war, Gregor. It's not about fairness, it's about survival."

Val swallowed as soon as he said the words, hating to offend Gregor once more, only to find himself gazing in the same open-mouthed surprise Gregor was, before turning to a bemused Halvar.

The echo he had heard had not been in his head. They had both said the same words simultaneously.

Halvar grinned. "I knew you had a soldier's mind, kid. Now let's pretend Gregor isn't here. Can you honestly say that surviving whatever the hell it was we faced today has helped you to blossom somehow?"

Val nodded. The excitement he had felt minutes ago had faded to a tight knot of anxiety in his stomach. He turned to Elise. "I could say anything. I think it's best, well, if I try to prove it. Elise? Can you hand me that tome on Personal Resonance Magic?"

Wordlessly, she did.

For the briefest of moments, Val feared that maybe it had all been a deluded dream when he cracked open the covers, beholding and losing himself in the first diagram. Then, haltingly, he did his best to explain to the others what he was sensing from the text. In other words, he read to them aloud.

The silence when he paused was deafening.

Gregor scowled. "Elise, I thought you said he was utterly helpless? Like one of those throwbacks, the pre-evolved I still think we should sterilize, lest fools actually try to breed with them?"

Elise's brows furrowed. "He didn't understand a single linkage the day before, Gregor, and I never counseled for anyone's sterilization, no matter how flawed they are."

Sten shook his head. "You're an odd one, Val." He turned to Elise. "You were studying with him for over an hour. You didn't pick up any sense of deception or contrivance?"

Elise frowned. "Of course not, Sten. And I was more than trying to trap him up. If he had been able to read at all, he would have stolen that kiss, I have no doubt."

Val's eyes widened even as Elise teased him with her smile. "It was a test, Val. And you didn't have a clue. Which means you passed. Which means you've been honest with us. I thank you for that."

Val lowered his head, heart racing, feeling more confused than ever.

"Now he's going to think you're flirting with him," grumbled their shortest member.

"I'm not a complete idiot, Gregor, whatever you may think," Val snapped.

Gregor's brows widened with outrage. "What your tongue! You have no right to speak to me that way, whatever the hell you are."

"Stop it," Sten said, voice curt. "Prodding at Val serves no end."

"But he's not even human! Look at his flesh. No sign of injury or abrasion, and we saw traces of his blood on several crystal shards that had been wedged inside him! He's violated so many treaties it defies belief with that hideous display of destruction. The Elementium and Silbion he wasted was worth a fortune! We almost got shredded by crystal shards when this fool actually manipulated catalyzations while we were in the middle of our retreat! He can cast flame magics out of the blue, after seeing only a handful of castings? It's absurd, Captain, and it puts all of our tech at risk! He's a menace to our safety, and to our operation. Personally, I vote we leave him here. He's just too dangerous to have around."

"In case you forgot, Gregor, we charged right into that specter ambush," Halvar said. "Valor did his damnedest to account for that on the fly in ways not even my charts could have predicted, able to strike our foes in such a way that both the chasing specters and the Horror waiting for our desperate retreat were both impaled by Elementium laced shards, even as we were protected in the shadow of that monstrosity, too bulky for the fragments to burst through."

Gregor swallowed, taking breath as if to respond, blinking and scowling in frustration, realizing there was nothing he could say.

Elise nodded. "I heard you call for Valor to come. You did little to cloak yourself. I fear, my friend, that it was you that compromised us, not Val at all."

"Well, of course I didn't take it seriously," Gregor huffed. "That nightmare Val declared lurking to get us made no sense! A specter, maybe. And Val was playing with Exothermics! It's why the captain went ahead, searching for another route, right? No reason to try to chase Val down until after we had found it, and Val had hopefully gotten rid of his volatiles, leaving us all safer. And with the new route found, Val would have no choice but to follow immediately, and any possible confrontation with a violent hothead that could blow us all to smears would be avoided!" He scowled, turning to Sten. "Admit it, Captain. You didn't really believe there was any creature there anyway, did you? We all agreed within seconds that it was just the wind! We only allowed Val his delusion so he would get rid of those perilous vials!"

Val smirked at the dark glares his companions sent Gregor's way, the increasingly defensive man revealing things that perhaps everyone thought better left unsaid.

Val flashed the captain a rueful grin. "No worries, sir. You let me entertain myself while at the same time making sure I was no risk to your crew, and you took the initiative to look for an alternate route out." He bowed his head. "Signs of a captain that cares about his crew."

Sten's scowl turned into an equally rueful smile. "I think living in the real world agrees with you, Val. Already you seem hardly half the idiot you were just a day back."

Val chuckled softly. "With my awful first impression, the only way I could go was up, right Captain?"

Sten shrugged, the mood lightening. "And it turns out there is something to our newest member, after all. Literate or not, you have a knack for the unorthodox. An extremely useful knack for anyone, especially explorers like us. You made a good call, your traps worked, and we are all here to tell the tale."

Halvar nodded. "You're a sound tactician, and you haven't mastered a single chart. You could go far, boy, with the right teachers." A powerful hand squeezed Val's shoulder. Val tried not to wince. "Thank you, lad. I have no doubt that you saved our lives, and that's not something I'm going to forget."

Elise and Sten nodded their agreement and Val bowed his head, strangely humbled. "Thank you, guys. I'm just happy to help the team." He gazed up at Halvar. "It's what soldiers do. Brothers on the battlefield."

"True," the giant said, solemnly handing Val some soft putty-like food that was both sweet and salty. Standard rations, Val was given to understand, trying to choke it down, though the extra sips of water certainly helped.

"But you're no soldier, just a deluded simulation," Gregor insisted.

Val shrugged, deciding not to pay attention to the scowling gnome. "So what's our next step, Captain?"

Sten smiled, his handsome face smudged with dirt and multiple abrasions treated with a white paste Val thought might be the equivalent of an antibiotic cream. He noted that none of his companions appeared completely free of injury or abrasion. Only him, and he the most poorly equipped of all.

Gregor's glare was almost accusing. "Not a scratch on you," the shorter man said.

Val met his gaze. It was Gregor who swallowed and looked away. "Exactly. I think I heal when I level up, my soul's new sense of self over-writing who I was before, including previous injuries gained."

Halvar chuckled softly. "What an interesting trick. It's a pity that only magically forged creations have this knack, but assuming you won't discorporate into a pile of quivering jelly when we leave Jordia, you'd make a damn fine addition to any army."

Val blinked and swallowed. "Discorporate into a pile of quivering jelly?"

"Yes," Gregor said, eyes positively glinting as he smiled. "If you really are just a magically forged creation, well, to leave this planet is death. Jordian spells, potent as they are, only work on Jordia. Only magic artifacts that directly tap into a user's arcane or psionic potential, like Elise's sword, or technology that uses the mana-field itself, which is most, can be used universally. Of course technology can be rendered inert by the careless misuse of magic and the resulting wild surges. No doubt the forceshields and Psiblades we found were prizes that wizard had seized from a Highlord or two he had managed to take down before dying himself."

Elise nodded. "Save for the fact that Psiblades are more arcane artifact than technological wonder, Halvar is correct. Though perhaps the deadliest of all weapons, the Psiblade is as vulnerable to magical surges as any piece of technology. And in truth, we have no idea regarding the history of the clan that had those relics. For all we know, the wizard had taken a Psionicist for a lover. Perhaps as husband or wife, the parents hoping to forge a child gifted in both potencies. Not so uncommon, once upon a time."

Sten sighed. "Of course as tech advanced, space travel became both possible then exceedingly cheap with the jump gates. Psion masters went from land-bound barons to the powerful collection of Houses we now call Highlords, uniting their clans to hold sway over dozens of worlds. Those rare individuals gifted with both mental powers and elemental magics became less of a priority when magic disciplines have to be mastered separately for each world you step upon, and worse, are likely to blow out vital support systems and strand your ship, if you dare to use them in space."

Elise dipped her head in acknowledgment, though her eyes never left Val's. "Still, once upon a time, a scion gifted in both Psionic and Arcane disciplines would have been a force to be reckoned with. And what better prize for a ruling House to put in suspended animation, or attempt to revive, depending on the fortunes of their clan?"

"Brought back a millennium past its prime," Gregor scoffed, "when such a mutant is all but worthless, and any clan whose children lacked the neuro-nodes to master the tomes of wisdom that grandfathered all technical disciplines quickly faded into obscurity and irrelevance."

Val sighed, gazing at the scowling gnome. "So, whether I'm an arcane simulacrum, the remnant of an artificial reality, or the resurrection of a long-dead scion to an ancient magical clan, you'll hate me no matter what. I got it, Gregor. So feel free to fuck off and leave me alone from here on out." Val flashed as cold a smile as he could and turned away from the spluttering man before turning to Elise, who was doing her best not to grin.

"So, Elise, what do you think the chances are of my turning to goop if I dare to leave this planet, Jordia?"

Her smile turned sad. "Higher than zero, Val. I'd like to think you're as real as flesh and blood could be, but the fates rarely flow the way our wishes do, or we'd all be living vastly happier lives." She shrugged. "I really don't know." She gazed thoughtfully at the captain. "We could take a sample of his blood and hair. If it maintains integrity with our next jump, well, at least we would know that our Val is more than a simulacrum, and depending on the readings, he might just turn out to be as human as the rest of us."

Sten smirked. "Somehow I doubt he's anything like us, but as long as he comprehends honor, integrity, and can get along with our crew, I'm open to the experiment, for curiosity's sake if nothing else."

Gregor spluttered, eyes widening. "You can't seriously be thinking of bringing this thing along, can you?"

Sten shrugged, his gaze measuring Val. "That depends an awful lot on him. But he's found treasure and trouble both, helping us gather one and prepare for the other. That means something, even if he does have the social graces of a mule, and gets under your craw."

Sten's gaze hardened. "Val, show Gregor the same respect you would Halvar. Gregor? Whether he's human or simulation, get over it. It doesn't matter. Elise has vouched for his integrity, and any sentient creature is capable of loyalty. Besides, if you haven't forgotten, he saved you from being devoured by a Dark Summons. And that, my friend, would have been a hard death indeed."

Val dipped his head as Gregor scowled and looked away.

Sten nodded. "Come this way, Val, there is something I want you to see."

Within moments they were back in the central chamber once more, having carefully stepped over any number of jagged sharp crystals, almost all of them glowing with flecks of Elementium.

Val whistled. "There has to be a fortune in ore trapped in here!"

Sten nodded solemnly. "And it's a damn shame that the odds are against us pushing a claim of this magnitude through the right channels without hungry bureaucrats sensing an easy kill, carting us off for crimes committed worlds away so they can feed upon our spoils now."

Val smirked. "Politics the universe over. It's amazing how often incredible technology or precious property rights are sold for a song from the poor and desperate, only to make billions for the rich and well-connected."

Sten chuckled. "I see some things truly are universal. Now, look at the heart of our prize."

Gingerly climbing through the jagged shards of crystal, Val amazed once more at how well the wraps around his feet held up, they came at last to the heart of the detonations, right where the Abomination had perished, an area curiously free of the massive amount of shattered stone covering the rest of the chamber. Instead lay the still bubbling remains of the horror they had faced, just a couple fading wisps of semi-sentient fog trying to form a pathetic semblance of the creature it had once been before being helplessly pulled apart by the tiniest of eddies, at last fading to nothing even as Val watched, blinking in surprise as the wisps seemed to flow against his skin with increasing rapidity before fading altogether.

Everyone gazed at Val in shock. No one said a word.

Val blinked, gazing at his wrapped feet, not even admitting to himself the fierce tingle of pleasure he felt, as if his very soul was feeding upon the last shreds of his foe.

"Level up indeed," Halvar mused at last, breaking the awful suspense with a smile, clapping Val's shoulder. "He hid nothing. He told us he had fed on that beast, somehow, with no more shame than a wolf feeding on his kill. This is Val. He is part of our team, and he has done us no harm. Far better that whatever traces remain of that foul magic end up in the craw of our would-be wizard, than haunting what is, after all, our mine still."

Sten frowned before nodding his head curtly. "Fair points, Halvar." He shook away his scowl, face bland as he bent down, showing Val his find. "Do you see that large crystal glittering with crimson fire, where perhaps the beast's heart once lay?"

Still shaking off the fear he was about to be a called witch and burned at the stake, Val smiled, all too eager to lose himself in conversation with the captain. His contrived interest instantly became genuine as he gazed upon the trio of brilliantly sparkling jewels in awe.

"That one there is a ruby, I think. A massive, perfectly cut ruby."

Sten frowned. "Your word isn't translating, Val. It is, however, extremely valuable."

Elise nodded. "Ideally used for the harnessing Psion-Valorium synergized resonances in nul space."

Val blinked, and couldn't help grinning, for all that he was taking a wild guess. "They are what allows Psiblades to cut through reality itself, right?"

Elise blinked, nodding thoughtfully. "To simplify things horribly, yes. That, alongside Valorium, Elementium, Silbion, and a grandmaster's skill, are what's needed to forge a Psiblade."

Gregor scowled. "The gems are worth a fortune, yes, but if we could get the Psiblades themselves working, then we'd truly be swimming in wealth and a Highlord's favors! They might not feel quite the need to make drones of us with a peace offering like this."

Sten scowled. "The Valorium itself was rendered out of sync, thanks to the arcane fluxes it suffered. You yourself made the diagnosis. No one save a True Artificer could fix it."

Gregor sighed. "True, Captain. But costly as it is, the Highlords have access to True Artificers. We do not. They will get them working again. Even damaged, they should at least be worth our lives."

Elise gazed at the glittering gems with a professional eye. "I wouldn't be surprised if they netted us several hundred thousand credits, at the very least."

Val blinked as Elise turned to gaze at him. "That's a lot, Val, in case you didn't know."

Val nodded. "So I'd gathered."

Elise smirked. "And credit goes to you. It was your... artistic use of the tools at hand that facilitated this remarkable discovery. So it's only fair that you get a cut of this haul."

Val nodded solemnly. "Thank you. I get the feeling that would help out a lot, being as I am utterly clueless as to my place in this world."

Elise's gaze turned soft. "We won't leave you stranded, easy prey for the wolves, Val, I promise you that."

"Of course not," Sten concurred. "We'll set up an account with a factor and assure he has lodging and stipend if his destiny is to stay here, particularly if he is, in fact, unable to survive leaving the arcane fields surrounding this planet."

"Better use a law-scribe," Gregor grumbled. "That way if the state claims him, no ward can claim his fortune as their own."

Sten's eyes widened, he nodded. "Well said, Gregor, though of course we would pay for private care, if it came to that."

"Why, that comment was downright helpful," Halvar teased.

Gregor kicked a crystal. "No reason not to be. I didn't let his feet get cut up either, did I? Just because he gets on my nerves, just because I don't think he's real, doesn't mean I want to see him suffer."

Val blinked, not knowing what to say.

"If only he wasn't so annoying!" The gnomish man grumbled, striding some feet away.

Sten grinned. "He's a good sort, as are you, I think, Val." The captain adjusted his armored jacket, taking in the room entire with an almost maudlin sigh. "These jewels are a prize well worth our efforts. But the real prize is the obsidian-gold fire all around us. A marvel of Elementium, locked in this cavern of crystal. It'd be worth a damn fortune, but we'd need considerable time and resources to process it, and that's too damned risky right now. The same damn bureaucrats that sold us all rights to this mine would try to seize it right back, vulnerable as we are, and a steel cage is all we'd get for our efforts if we actually set up a profitable mining operation."

Val swallowed, heart starting to race as he gazed at the brilliant sparkling stalactites and stalagmites all around. The fortune in shattered crystal at their feet. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew he was a fool to show his trump card, but loyalty meant something to him, and Sten and his crew seemed to genuinely care.

"If I try something, if I share something with you, can you all promise me it goes no further than the five of us?"

Sten's gaze was completely beyond Val's ability to read. Slowly, he nodded, as did every crew member in turn. "As long as it won't endanger us, by all means, Val."

Val swallowed, gazing at the closest crystal before him, entranced by the ebony gold fire blazing within, feeling himself somehow resonate with the incredibly complex connections bonding that arcane element to the more inert substances all around. He closed his eyes and imagined pulling the bonds apart, wincing as he felt sudden heat, quickly easing his mental grip on the crystal.

"What is he doing?" An impatient Gregor asked.

"Hush," Elise said.

Taking a deep breath, Val felt his psyche flow into the crystal once more, this time imagining himself gently sliding the Elementium free of the bonds of the surrounding matrix, somehow enticing different components to flow in its place, catalyzing reactions he didn't understand so much as feel, the crystal warming only faintly as he felt the priceless, precious substance flow, ever so slowly, from the crystal to the palm of his hand.

"Ancestor's mercy, what did he do?" Gregor's voice was more awed than critical, Halvar whistling in amazement. Val peered deeper into himself, looking at the checkerboard matrix he thought of as quantizing what arcane or psionically anchored treasures he could tie off in the grid of his pocket realm. He was surprised and pleased to see that the checkerboard matrix had grown. Now he had 133 boxes, the exact same amount as his Mana and Psion reserves. He noted that his personal Silbion had fallen to 36,054mL, the crew's Silbion exactly ten gallons as his had originally been, for all that no one had been inside the other sarcophagus. His Elementium reserves had fallen to 5326g. He imagined selecting another square where he would put this Elementium, separate from the others. He sensed slightly more than 55 grams filling that fresh square, another point of available mana locked into holding that treasure in place. He nodded in satisfaction, eyes still closed.

"Where did it go?" Gregor whispered. "He made it disappear!"

"Shush."

Val opened his eyes and smiled. "Perhaps we don't have to worry about mining permits after all."

Sten gazed at Val for long seconds. "How long would it take you to gather the Elementium locked in these crystals?"

Val shrugged. "Honestly? I have no idea."

Sten nodded. "And you said you sensed water below?"

Val frowned. "I did say that, didn't I?" He gave a soft nod, tasting the truth of the memory of that statement. "Somehow, I think there is. Even if we need to heat it, maybe my flame spell can be useful for something besides burning specters."

"I'm giving you two hours, Val. Gather what you can, and then we go on."

Val smiled. "Fair enough." If he had been on Earth, he wouldn't have hesitated even good-naturedly to assure himself a large share of the cut. But here, now, he felt that trust was everything. He would show his faith in Sten by not even asking, and somehow sensed that Sten's approval of him would only grow. He grinned, wondering if it was his increased charisma and scholarship that was finally giving him some sort of insight into the social nuances embraced by the group he now found himself a part of.

But such speculation wasn't gathering ore, so he quickly put all such thoughts out of mind, focusing only on the puzzle of gathering as much of the priceless ore as fast and as safely as he could from the crystal, relishing the challenge like a strategy game. He quickly found himself growing adept in his ability to coax the purified Elementium gently free of its bonds, Val soon draining massive crystals the size of his leg in the time it had taken him to drain the first one in the palm of his hand.

"Val, time's about up. How are you doing?"

The captain looked around him, blinking in amazement. The formerly glittering crystals so filled with shimmering green fire had been reduced to clear quartz-like material over at least half of the massive chamber.

Val gave a tired grin, gazing back at the captain, looking forward to sharing both of his surprises. His smile turned to a grimace as a prompt flashed across his mind's eye.

Greater Alchemy Rank Three achieved! You have a knack for this, and successfully avoided all the elemental combinations that could have turned this room into a giant explosive chamber of death. Congratulations!

Spell Learned: Condensation Collection. Level 5 Manipulation/Water dependent. Cost 0 mana. This spell will allow you to collect dew and condensate from most surfaces, directing the flow towards whatever container you have ready. It is slow work, taking 1 hour per liter of fluid collected, but if you're dying of thirst, the one thing you need is dedication, right?

Arcane Discipline Water Rank 1 Achieved! You can now cast Water magics!

How dangerous had his decoupling been?

Sten flashed a pleased smile, not sensing Val's sudden discomfort. "Well done, Val. Damn well done. It's a pity we don't have time for more, but don't you worry. As soon as we've restocked in water and hopefully found a way out of here, we are coming back for this ore if nothing else."

He was definitely clamping down his will next time he tried this, Val promised himself. He'd use Stabilization to assure no accidental catalyzation of the substances suddenly stripped of Elementium, lest he inadvertently turn these crystals into fragmentation grenades, no matter how much it might slow the process down.

Sten's friendly smile hardened only slightly. "If you don't mind, Val, I'd love to see our prize."

Val blinked, then nodded. "Give me just a moment, Captain." Taking a deep breath, he accessed that portion of his grid he had used to store what turned out to be an extremely impressive 126,573 grams of Elementium. Strangely, it had not taken any extra units of his rift, despite the quantity seized.

Sten stepped back, eyes widening as Val slowly, carefully released the brilliant flakes flashing both obsidian fire and the deepest, purest green he had ever seen. Soon a pile of pure Elementium was before him, and Sten was gazing at the sight in awe.

Then Val hissed, heart hammering, realizing how foolish his grand gesture had been.

Sten's brow had furrowed. "Val, how are you storing that? And I think some of the flakes are being carried off."

Yet Val, focusing, had already drawn the Elementium back into storage as fast as he could.

Sten gazed at the space that had held such a fortune but seconds before, gazing at Val with undisguised wonder.

Val grimaced. "Sorry, Captain. I suddenly had the sense that over a hundred kilograms of pure Elementium suddenly exposed to the damp air just might be a bad idea. I'm not sure, but with all those crystals and random elements that they had been attached to, I was imagining pure sodium or sulfur reacting explosively to water."

Sten paled. "Damn good point. Leaving that much powder in pure form can't be a good idea. How much Elementium did you manage to recover?"

"About 126.5 kilograms, Captain."

Sten positively beamed. "Well done, Val. Is it safe, wherever it is right now? Can you hold it there indefinitely?"

Val shrugged. "I think the answer is yes to both questions, but, well, you've known me since the day I was born here, so I can only say for sure that I can store materials for that long a time."

The captain nodded. "Keep yourself safe, and let me know if you need us to find some emergency containers or the like."

"I will."

The captain smiled. "You did good, kid, now let's head down that farmost tunnel you had pegged as our best chance. I think the crew is getting impatient with this mine, and truth to tell, so am I. though with a fortune like that, well, this isn't the worst day of my life, not by far."

Val's smiled back. "I have something else to show you, Captain. I can't promise you it's completely pure, but while extracting the Elementium, I also sensed just how much condensation was trapped in this chamber, and how easy it would be to collect. I don't know if I could do it again, but while I was in that trance, I've gathered something else for you."

Sten blinked as Val handed him a pair of now full water flasks. He took a tentative sip, his eyes widening. A low, throaty chuckle came from his lips. "Purest water I've had in days! You must have collected at least a couple of liters here. This, Val, is beyond remarkable."

Val grinned. "If we can all get out of here alive, I'll count it a fantastic day. In terms of wealth and friendship both."

Sten clapped his shoulder. "Well said. Now how about you spend a couple more hours gathering every last trace of what will be our fortune? As much as you can, and I will let the others know that you've more than made it worth our time."

With a congratulatory flash of his fingers, Sten went back to the others, and a grinning Val lost himself in the earthy joys of extraction, proceeding at a steady pace that all but assured he wouldn't blow himself up in the process, recovering almost all of the Elementium in the cavern, another 124 kilograms, and a mere half liter of additional water in the three extra hours the captain granted him, the great chamber now free of all glitter, and bone dry as well.

17

For all that the journey downward seemed without end, Val couldn't help smiling, feeling the fragile camaraderie between himself and the rest of the party start to blossom, the first fragile strings of friendship he would love to knit into a cloth strong and sure. He didn't care that part of it was no doubt thanks to the captain's commendation, making it quite clear that Val had just made them a fortune, he sensed the crew as a whole growing more comfortable with him. And even if they saw him more as a boy in need of guidance and direction than a man, he was just grateful that they weren't treating him like a magically constructed thing that might go berserk or cut their throats at any moment.

Of course, no matter how beautiful the tunnels and caverns they made their way down, glowing as often as not with glittering crystalline stalactites flashing all the colors of the rainbow, it did not lead them any closer to water, food, or a way back to the surface.

"This is madness," Gregor muttered. "Your new mascot has no idea where he's leading us, save to our possible deaths!"

"He has a name, Gregor, and thanks to him, we're a bit less likely to die of thirst than we were a few hours ago," Elise gently reproved, though did not gainsay the thrust of Gregor's argument, the smaller man smiling, sensing this.

"Very well, Val then." The smaller man stopped, poking Val's side. "Well, Val? You claim to have sensed water this way when you had your vision, trance, or whatever odd state it was that let you dance about, setting explosives in a pitch back cave with an abomination somehow not even minding your very presence. A very impressive feat, boy. So damn impressive that I doubt any human alive could repeat it!"

Val more than caught the emphasis on the word human. He grimaced, but sensing his companions' souring moods, he did not press it. "I'm sorry, Gregor," he said at last. "I sensed water and wealth, clear as a bell, this way. Vast sources of both. Not just a few liters we'll finish in less than a day. But as to actual distance? I can't say." He shook his head. "I tried several times to enter Shadowmind to get a better sense of things, and the minute I do, you immediately freak out, certain that I've abandoned you all to slow deaths!"

"That would sort of break his concentration," Halvar allowed with a grin.

"But to be fair, even when I do enter that state, I can't sense what lies ahead like I could when I was so connected, dancing..."

"On the edge of oblivion," Sten finished.

Val shrugged. "pretty much, Captain."

The captain's gaze hardened, the warm camaraderie of hours ago fading to increasing concern for their own growing peril. "We need something more concrete than that, Val."

Val swallowed, locking gazes with the captain. "There is another way. I don't think you four will like it, but it would get us out."

Gregor paled. "It's madness, Captain. We don't dare."

"We'd be instant outlaws, should anyone respond to the exothermics," Halvar said.

"But at least we'd be alive," Elise said. "With Val able to sequester so much wealth with that strange knack of his..."

"And you still think he's human?"

Elise shrugged. "He's our friend. I don't think it really matters, at this point."

Val lowered his head, touched more than he wanted to admit by those words. Elise considered him a friend. Even if not quite human.

"Yes, well, I'd still rather not be on the run yet again," Gregor grumbled. "There is so much potential, here in Jordia. If I can master this tome of alchemy, who knows what mana infused formulas might result in cutting-edge pharmacology? The fortunes we could make in patents, or at the very least, revitalization spas for elder lords who know the next rejuvenation treatment will probably be their last. If we could grant the rich and powerful even a few more years of vitality without the risk of the vasts, our legal dilemmas would disappear like smoke."

Sten grimaced, shaking his head. "All true, Gregor. Between Val's knack and your understanding of alchemy and pharmacology, the potential for making our fortunes here is nothing short of profound. But it does us no good if we die down here of thirst."

Halvar nodded. "If Val can store Elementium and Silbion indefinitely, we could make a fortune just selling the pure ore in worlds with the most carefully regulated markets."

Gregor sighed. "Sure, Val would make the perfect smuggler, no checkpoint can impound anything they can't find. But what if he can't survive leaving the electro-mana fields of Jordia? I don't know about you, but the thought of a major construct coming apart, shooting massive quantities of highly reactive refined ores in its death throws is not how I want to spend my farewell voyage off this planet."

"You and me both," Val quipped, gazing at the shorter man.

"No offense, Val."

"None taken."

Sten shook his head, gaze firm with sudden resolve. "Here's the plan. we have seven liters worth of water left, including Val's find. We will proceed for no more than three more hours. If we sense any signs of water, or a passageway back to the surface, we press forward. If we do not? We return the way we came."

He turned to Val. "And then we'll let you do what you seem to have a knack for."

Val flashed a humorless grin. "Blowing up that stone slab blocking the entrance sky high, and let's hope that the explosion doesn't blow us all off the map. Speaking of which, best you all wait below until after the deed is done. I can't swear there won't be serious structural damage, and the shock wave might hurt you unnecessarily, even in the library, especially if a stone shelf ends up falling over you, crushing your innards."

Halvar nodded. "Sound advice."

Sten smiled mirthlessly. "Sound indeed. At which point we race for our cruiser, pray no rogue or prospector has already stripped or stolen it, drink up and head out just as fast as we can. And should anyone ask, Val..."

"I know absolutely nothing about exothermics, and I take my knowledge with me to the grave. I tell absolutely no one details about how we survived the horror or freed ourselves, not unless I want to die by lynching or in a Highlord's pain vat."

Halvar chuckled. "Boy's finally understanding how the world works."

"It's about time he did," Sten said. "Now no time to waste." His gaze fixed on Val. "Three hours, kid. You have three hours to feel out any trace of water. Stream, cistern, underground ocean, I hardly care. Now let's get moving."

Val nodded and led the way, letting his sense of self flow into the caverns as a whole, nothing but icy intent. Focused not on the kill, but bringing his men home.

And for a time they lost themselves, winding ever deeper into the tunnels, the dark revealing its secrets to Val at last. Then the silence was pierced by high pitched screams, just ahead.

"Ancestor's Mercy, we need to turn around now, Captain!" Gregor cried.

Elise gasped. "Those are children. Sten, we have to do something!"

"Permission to do reconnaissance, Captain?" Halvar asked, the hum of his carbine already on.

"Granted. Val, where the hell did you go?" The captain's voice echoed through the tunnel.

But Val had wasted no time, compelled into action by the cries of children in mortal peril.

So many bitter tears, fragile lives cut down by shrapnel and enemy fire, innocents he couldn't save. All he could do, all he had ever managed before, was to serve as a spear of retribution, cutting down the bastards who would so callously butcher their own people with a hot, ruthless fury that had earned him considerable reputation, as well as a bounty on his head.

Maybe this time he could do more than exact retribution.

Even inside the icy state of Shadowmind, he compelled that part of the vast tunnel that was Val to move faster, to run harder, than he ever had before, the tunnel tightening before abruptly opening up into another cavern, this one lit not by Elementium infused crystals but by fields of luminescent mushrooms. He burst into the vast chamber already sensing the layout, diving head first through the narrow opening just underneath a shelf of rock he tumbled free of before springing to his feet, blade and buckler freed as fast as he ever had, training with friends a few short years back, a lifetime ago.

He immediately caught sight of a girl his age, struggling to free herself from sticky white strands, several young children screaming their panic beside her, themselves frantically working to yank their hands free of the awful substance.

Val's heart hammered with horror even as he heard the sound of awful chittering clicks, jerking his head up to catch the gaze of giant silver-white spiders gazing down at him with their multiple eyes, shock and horror pulling him very much into the moment, but as alive and vibrant as he had ever been, Val, rolling to the ground with frantic speed as a strand of spider silk slammed to the ground inches from where he had been, seconds ago.

"Trap! Massive spiders in here!" Val cried, giving his friends what warning he could before a second spider shot a stream of deadly silk, right for his eyes.

Val instinctively raised his shield to block, only to have himself yanked off his feet as the sticky strands latched on, the spider trying to reel him in.

Val held on only a moment before letting go of his shield, spinning away as a third spider shot out sticky glop only inches from Val's rolling form.

He tried desperately to concentrate even as his brain screamed to find cover, the cold icy void he had buried himself in for hours replaced by panicked surprise.

"Damn!" He cried out as strands of silk yanked him off his feet, forced to let go of his saber and shimmy out of Halvar's so protective cloak, now near naked and exposed in a room fool of stone with hungry predatory spiders all about, though the girl and her siblings? Children? Were still frantically trying to free themselves and paid him no mind, Val noting only that the spiders were leaving already caught prey alone to deal with him.

He felt a dark smile curl his lips as the three chittering monsters closed. Terror turned to hot fury as Val turned the tables and predators became the prey.

"Burn you god damned bastards!" Val roared, hand jutting out, a flood of hot flame roaring out of the palm of his hand towards the nearest massive spider. He wasted only an instant wondering how his spell had grown so bright before focusing himself solely on bringing his foe down, the flame lighting the hideous creature up like a torch.

Boosted Firestream successfully cast! Whether due to terror, panic, or perhaps actual intent, you have figured out how to boost your known spell effects by infusing the casting with added mana! Thirty mana spent!

Meta-Magic Feat: Spellboost Rank One Learned! Boost your spells! Rank one, triple standard cost for a fifty percent damage increase! Risk of catastrophic disaster? Minimal! - The more you practice, the more efficient you will be. Just don't blow yourself up doing it. (Surprising that you haven't already...)

Deathspider has taken critical damage. Deathspider has died!

Val ignored the flashing messages in his mind's eye, focusing instead on the second spider even then leaping forward, Val rolling to the side, ignoring the gash of stone tearing open his left flank.

"Burn!" He roared, his angry shout somehow helping to channel and focus his spell, his second stream of flame just as hot as the first, and how the creature squealed and skittered as it died.

Deathspider has been completely obliterated by flame!

Val hissed and lurched as mandibles pierced his left calf, crumpling to the ground. A wave of sudden dizziness overtook him as giant arachnid forelegs roughly grabbed him, disorienting him as he was twirled around, legs covered in iron hard bands of silk within a few dizzying seconds.

"Val!" Halvar's voice, echoing through the cavern. "The tunnel's too tight, I'm trying to break through!"

Critical strike! Deathspider Warrior has successfully launched a surprise attack! Your left calf is crippled! You have been infected by poison! Failed to save against disorientation. You are now disoriented, and have a -6 penalty to all accuracy skill checks!

Desperately, Val tried to focus his hands, to get a bead on the massive arachnid, the largest of all three. The others had been mastiff sized, but this one was handling him as easily as a dog would a chew toy, and he couldn't line up a shot to save his life.

Val choked down sudden terror, realizing that the hideous clicking of mandibles steadily wrapping him up in a horrid cocoon might be the last sound he ever heard.

18

"Val!" The cries of his friend had been muted to the softest of murmurs even as Val's heart hammered with panic, his entire body now bound tight with strands of silk. Limbs pressed tightly to his sides, he writhed futilely as the hideous chittering abomination wrapped silken cords tightly about his ears, eyes, and mouth.

His life, flashing before his eyes.

Grinning and returning his father's salute as he began his first day of basic training, dreams of glory and triumph dancing in his head.

The hot arena of horror and death, screams of maimed brothers-in-arms as they went up like torches under the incendiary blazes their enemies so favored.

The icy satisfaction of watching his foes drop under the hail of bullets ripping from his gun as Val embraced the darkest lessons of guerrilla warfare, a shadow in the night, striking down the very rebels that had killed his friends.

Returning home to a life of constant pain, his legs a maimed, charred mess, falling finally to the explosives and incendiaries that had killed so many of his friends in flare-ups occurring throughout the world in ever greater frequency.

And how hard he fell for his old love once more, escaping into joyful worlds of fantasy and adventure, making friends across the world, only this time not as a teenager with his whole life ahead of him, but as a wounded vet in constant pain, desperate to remember what it felt like to embrace worlds of wonder and excitement with the same joy he once had, years ago.

And for a time, he found it. Friends to bond with, a game that captivated him, a girl that, in another life, he could have loved.

Before she was lured away by the promise of a game to rival all other games, so immersive, so overwhelming, it was like stepping into a completely new world, real in every detail.

And that's exactly what it turned out to be.

Julia and so many others with sockets drilled into their skulls, chattel for a race of invaders who saw earthlings as prey, and so used the most realistic simulation imaginable to lure them into the ultimate trap, their captive brains to fuel the powers of invading psionicists until they had nothing left to give, able perhaps to appreciate a few hours of horrific agony and regret when they were finally disconnected from the devices that had drained them dry, worthless broken husks doomed to a quick, awful death.

Val alone had escaped the perfect trap, glimpsing horrific truths that one Solena Petrova, corporate executive and Darklord, had thought kept so well hidden in her own mind even as she had seduced his own, or so she had thought, Val gambling with the fates themselves that the crackling portal he dared to jump through when his foes thought him helpless went anywhere save oblivion, Julia the only girl he had managed to save.

Only to find himself in a world of terror and wonder and bitter folly that was very much real, the girl he had tried so desperately to rescue now gone as if she had never been.

A universe where he really could level up, learning strange skills and magics in chilling flashes of intuition. Draining the souls of his enemies like the most terrible of vampires, and at constant risk of demise from every creature he and his newfound friends had discovered so far.

Yet dread as well as exhilaration had driven him to this moment of horrific folly. For pain was a very real thing here, and to die in this world was to die forever.

And perish he very well might, having charged headlong into danger, compelled by the desperate screams of children, determined that no one die his watch, ever again.

Yet now he was just seconds from being devoured by a hideous arachnid monstrosity that had ambushed him, and he only had one final trump card left to play, a card as like as not to spell his death as rescue him from oblivion, and he would burn in agony, either way.

Desperate screams of terrified children were the final things he heard as sticky strands fully cocooned him, the spiders pincers plunging unerringly for his throat.

Terror burned away. Only ashes of bleakest fury remained.

So be it. If he was going to die, it would be on his terms.

Hesitating no longer, he plummeted deep, deep down the crimson cord of awareness linking his gifts to the resonance of Jordian magics, feeling himself suddenly fill up with the very essence of flame. His lips curled in a grim smile even as he began to scream with pain, whispering a furious curse and howling as he channeled the last of his magics in an Explosive Retribution, every nerve ending suddenly ablaze. He smiled through the torment, the shrieking scream of the spider that had thought him prey caressing his ears before he was drowning in a sea of agony once more.

Explosive Retribution successfully cast! Save vs Oblivion made! Charred flesh is hardly pretty, but then again, neither are you! Deathspider Warrior has suffered catastrophic wounds. Deathspider Warrior has expired. Congratulations on dodging death yet again!

Congratulations! You have reached Rank 2 in mastering the element of flame.

"Val? Val! By the gods, what has that fool done now?" Gregor cursed.

"Captain, there are children tangled in cocoons of silk. We need to free them." Halvar's voice, surprisingly gentle.

"Do it," Sten said, now every inch the commander. "Elise, your sword?"

"Yes, Captain." And despite frightened whimpers, Val sensed the children being freed without a nick from Elise's deadly blade.

"By the gods," Gregor hissed. "They are..."

"Don't say it," Halvar warned.

"Dwarves!"

"Quiet!" Elise snapped. "I can't make out a word these children are saying. You two, go check on Val!"

For all that he hovered somewhere between excruciating agony and unconsciousness, the children's words rang clear as a bell to Val's ears. "Please don't hurt us!"

And then he knew no more, his dreams haunted by visions of fire flowing through the complex mana matrix of his body, obeying his every command, invigorating him, filling him with sweet hot joy and burning agony as the wildest of elements coursed through his soul.

--- End of Book 1 ---

The adventure continues in Endless Online - Oblivion’s Promise!

Would you mind leaving a review before you go? It really helps!

Thank You

Creating this book was a labor of love, and I am grateful to my readers and all the fantastic GameLit and LitRPG authors who have come before me. In particular I wanted to give a shout out to Tao Wong and Blaise Corvin.

Blaise Corvin runs the Facebook group GameLit Society. He’s helped a lot of us newer authors learn the ropes, cares deeply about the genre, and has written some excellent GameLit as well. If you haven’t already checked out Delvers LLC: Welcome to Ludus, I recommend it highly. The character growth and clever use of powers really make it a treat to read.

And if you ever wondered what would happen if our world was suddenly influenced by RPG rules, then check out Tao Wong’s System Apocalypse series. It’s both a survival story and a great read with heroism, clever tactics, and awesome abilities.

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