100

Years ago, in one of his many acts of compassion, Erick journeyed to Florida in the aftermath of a hurricane. He actually did this twice. In those hot summers, with biting bugs all around, Erick toiled with others all there for the same reason; to help. He was but one of the cogs in the machine. Demolition, clean up, preparing lunch sometimes, running the bulldozer, for he was one of the few with heavy machinery experience. Working in construction when Jane was a baby had prepared him well for this volunteer work, but it was those hot, mosquito-filled summers, and the fact that he was getting too old for that shit, that cemented his switch to social work. He much preferred helping people with paperwork and prodding the various systems of government into providing what they were supposed to provide, than he enjoyed cleaning up disaster areas.

As the wind-filled sky turned from purple to blue, and the sun rose over the orange dunes outside of Candlepoint, Erick, riding Ophiel, thought back to those stormy days, in bug-filled tents, just outside of a town that had been leveled by a hurricane. There was no wooden construction here, though. Candlepoint was a stone city, through and through.

Fat lot of good all that stone did, when automatons plowed through the walls with what must have been a two hundred effective Strength, and spiders crawled through even the tiniest openings, or created their own. The summons were bad enough, but the monsters were worse than hurricane winds versus trailer parks. Those monsters were all dead, now; Erick had triple-checked the map he created in the center of the city, on top of the dark Crystal. Every blue dot in the city was dead and mutilated; he had gone after those monsters, first.

The people-shaped monsters were dead and mutilated, too. Some lived. But most…

Erick saw it all, as every Ophiel he had flew through the rubble and the buildings like pools of thick light, splashing in and out of crevices and into hiding holes. Missing legs. Bloody wounds. People crying in the middle of the street, holding onto the dead. Two men holding onto each other in the dark of a room, both of them still warm with fading life. A man holding half of a woman, trying to keep her insides inside her ribcage. People in cocoons that he rapidly freed, with some able to hobble away while others foamed at the mouth, barely alive—

Like a jolt from a god, Erick remembered a spell he had. With a subtle shift and cast, every Ophiel in Candlepoint simultaneously released [Mirage Slime]s; [Cleanse] given form and function. Thick, van-sized air danced through the rubble, across people, lingering on those suffering from spider bites. Venom became more thick air that curled away from slimes that were already moving on to the next victim. Cocoons disintegrated as they were deemed ‘filth’, releasing the trapped people inside. Blood vanished from streets. Bodies, broken and bloody, became simply broken.

Erick briefly came back to himself, sitting in the safety of his home in Spur, far away from the catastrophe that was Candlepoint. He looked to Poi, asking, “Do we have healers that anyone can spare?”

Quietly, Poi said, “We do not. No one wants to go there, sir. You should not ask, and you should never go there yourself.”

Erick looked away. He nodded. “Right.”

“But you can try the Garrison.” Poi said, “There might be healers there, already.”

Erick sat straighter. “Right!” He added, “And we have rods of [Treat Wounds]!”

Teressa said, “I’ll gather up the ones in the house.”

Erick summoned an Ophiel, automatically dismissing one in Candlepoint, as he said, “I got that, Teressa. Take some money and go buy some more— Or! Wait. Requisition reserves from the Army?” He looked to Poi. Without rancor, and full of hope, he asked, “Does Liquid have any she can spare?”

Poi looked to the air. “Yes. Liquid has some she is willing to give.” He looked to Teressa. “Go.”

Teressa vanished in a grey flash.

Erick summoned an Ophiel, automatically dismissing one of the ones at Candlepoint. He turned his fresh summon into liquid light, then gathered up seven rods of [Treat Wounds] he had lying around the house in three seconds. With bounty in wing, Ophiel blipped away, to Candlepoint. Minutes later, Teressa delivered another box of rods; another ten.

It was gruesome work.

Half an hour later, Erick was still pulling bodies out of rubble, tapping people with healing whenever he could. By then, others had started to appear, walking around, dazed and confused. The sun was up, and Erick had dismissed his hurricane winds already, but now he recast quick clouds into the sky, to bring shadows to the city.

As sunlight turned to half lights, and the wardlights of the city cast rainbows into the gloom, some of the confused shadelings came back to their senses. Erick did not talk to any of them, as he went around healing whoever looked like they needed healing, but he did watch as shadelings organized themselves.

Mephistopheles was there, by the Garrison, but Erick only knew him because of his horns. One was large and lacquered red, while the other was a broken red nub. He wore a completely normal off-white tunic and brown pants, completely at odds with his normal fanfare. He was also shoeless, looking not like himself at all, as he directed people left and right. Some shadelings obeyed him, but none of the adventurers did. As soon as Bulgan’s Lock vanished, the town emptied of almost all non-shadelings. From what Erick was seeing through ten different [Familiar]s, there were two, maybe three non-shadelings, walking around in the city. Maybe more; Erick wasn’t really counting right now. He was trying to mitigate damage.

Erick did notice the stronger people in the city. There was a shadeling in black armor with black skin and brilliant white eyes, who Erick watched pull a cocooned person out of a hole in the ground. Erick almost mistook him for a Shade, but if he was, then he was not a problem; not yet, anyway. In another part of the city, a woman in a pink dress turned rubble into shadows, dissipating fallen structures into little more than glooms in the air, as she helped set people into the light. In a far part of the city, near the broken northern wall, near the Farms, a trio of adventurers burst through a wall, entering into a room filled with rads. They began taking those rads—

While nine Ophiels automatically went on saving lives, tapping people with [Treat Wounds] and knowing what Erick wanted, Erick focused one Ophiel on the robbers. Because that was definitely what they were. Two orcol men, and one dragonkin woman. They conjured brown bags from thin air, then dipped into the stash of rads, rapidly stealing whatever they could, before blipping away.

Then they had the audacity to come back for seconds! Maybe they were already on thirds, or fourths.

Erick let them do whatever they wanted, wishing to never see them again, as he grabbed all the rads he could see into Ophiel’s [Greater Lightwalk]. The next time the thieves blipped in, the room was empty, and Erick had gone back into the town with the cache of rads in tow.

With a touch of directed organization, Erick distributed that haul out into the city, scattering them along every major street, like diamonds in the daylight, set out for someone to come by and take them. The hope was that shadelings, hurt in the attack, would grab the rads and use them for healing.

Shadelings instantly noticed the bounty on the road. They rushed the piles. Some appeared greedy at first glance, but with a lingering look, Erick saw those greedy people had just picked up what they could and rushed back to others who had been hurt, and hiding in nearby buildings. When Erick saw that, he directed Ophiels to the injured, and tapped them with a rod of [Treat Wounds]. Taking in rads seemed to do good for a shadeling’s health, but actual healing did more. Some of the people who took the rads were just greedy, though, and stashing them into hiding holes here and there; that much was expected.

And so, a bloody morning turned into a mournful day.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, Erick noticed what the Crystal looked like, at the base. The place where everyone exchanged their darkchips for prizes was like a gazebo at the bottom. The crystal had been carved out into a good five meter by five meter airy space, with counters for people to exchange goods upon, and boards hanging in the center of the gazebo that listed every prize. But there were no prizes listed now. No one manned the counters. Instead, a sign had been replicated and hung over every prize board, that read, ‘No more prizes in Candlepoint! Come to Kendrithyst if you want something!’.

 

– – – –

 

Erick sat up from his reclining chair.

Teressa had moved to stand out of the way, toward the side of the room, while Poi looked on, still telepathically talking to dozens of people. The room was unnaturally quiet. Teressa looked pensive; she was almost ready to say something, but she had doubts whether she wanted to speak, or not. But then she noticed Erick was here in the room instead of watching over Candlepoint, and all of her outward and obvious emotions went silent; unknowable.

Erick asked, “What now?”

“This is uncharted territory.” Poi looked down to Erick, saying, “There will be hardliners that want Candlepoint destroyed. There will be others that want it exploited. Still more, might want something else.”

Teressa hummed some noncommittal noise.

“About what I expected, then.” Erick swung his feet off the chair, then stood up, saying, “I need to see Justine. I want to put her in charge of the town.” He stood up. “I also want to speak to someone about what it takes to actually kill a Shade. It seems I am not up to the task.”

Teressa looked down at Erick, but then averted her eyes, to stare at an unimportant part of the floor.

Poi said, “You should put down [Hunter’s Instincts], sir. And take off the crown. Your eyes are glowing white.”

“… Not yet. But I can take this off.” Erick took off the crown, and set it down on the small table near his chair, next to the box of potions. He picked up his rings and slipped them on his fingers saying, “So? About seeing Justine? Or an actual Shade killer. Oh! Can Killzone talk? Also, was I misled by Anhelia, with regard to how best to kill a Shade?” He spoke with a voice disconnected from everything, saying, “Because that is disappointing, if true.”

Poi looked at Erick for a long moment, as if picking his words. He asked, “Why didn’t you try [Luminous Beam]?”

Erick blanked. He went, “Huh.” Then he laughed. Erick joked, “Like a bumbling virgin! I simply didn’t know how to approach the situation, and so, fucked up in a bad way. I have no excuses. I also could have Shaped some [Vivid Gloom]s into that dark Crystal in the center of town. I highly doubt that Bulgan could absorb pure poison light.” He shrugged, adding, “But who the fuck knows!” He repeated, half desperately, “Who knows, Poi? I need pointers.”

Poi said, “Your eyes are still glowing, sir.”

Erick almost flew off the handle, as rage tore through his entire being. And then he calmed himself. His eyes didn’t matter. So what if he was having some stressful magic lightshow in the irises of his eyes? That happened to practically everyone when they were amped up and angry, or fully in tune with their purpose in life. Erick’s purpose was to kill Shades, so of course he had a little light show going on. But Teressa wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Poi seemed overly concerned. So Erick flicked a portion of intent through the light of the house, up to the bathroom upstairs. A tiny blip brought a mirror to his hand.

Yes. His eyes were glowing.

… A bit too much, actually. He almost looked like a Shade. Full white glows eclipsed both of his eyes.

Reluctantly, and knowing he would be a mess afterward, he cut [Hunter’s Instincts].

White light faded from his eyes, but his irises did not return to their normal color. Instead, they were a bright grey; almost platinum. For the briefest of moments, he forgot the horrors of the last few hours.

Then he whispered to himself, “What the damn?” He checked his Status. “Still says Human.”

Teressa breathed out a windy chuckle, muttering, “Thank the gods.”

“You’ve been marked.” Poi offered, “I’ll ask around to find out what it means, if anything?”

“Let’s just… Let’s forget that, for now.” Erick tried to hold himself together, as he said, “I need to see… Who do I need to see— Justine. And Silverite and Killzone. Apogee. I need to speak to Apogee about an anti-blipping curse.”

Poi looked away for a moment, then said, “Killzone is able to receive you, now.”

Erick breathed deep, feeling slightly better. And then he had a concern. “Where, though? I’ve never met him outside of… walking around.”

 

– – – –

 

Erick stepped outside of the door to his house, turned left, and headed toward the stone gazebo that existed for the Community Garden Council; where they spoke to each other of produce, people, and business. Erick had not really spoken to Calizi, or Rollo, or anyone on the Council in several days. The last one he spoke to was Kip, the bluemetal wrought dragonkin, about shelling rice and beans for Candlepoint, over a week ago. That was a simpler time than now.

Now, Killzone waited for him in the stone gazebo.

The general of Spur’s Army, Killzone was a massive blacksteel wrought, in the shape of an orcol. Black hair, black clothes, black eyes and teeth, Killzone stood at the top of the short stairs into the structure, leaning against a stone pillar with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He saw Erick walking toward him and dropped his arms to his side to give a friendly wave. He smiled, and the emotion reached his eyes, looking rather sincere to Erick.

“Howdy, Erick.” Killzone stepped further into the gazebo, speaking with a pleasant tone as he said, “Come on in.”

While Poi waited on the stairs of the stone structure, Erick followed Killzone into the shadows of the gazebo.

“Hello.” Erick said, “He ate my light, Killzone. He dispelled my 90,000 point [Prismatic Ward] with a grip and a crush! How did he do that?”

Killzone turned and smirked, as he sat down at the nearest seat. “It’s not good news for you, but it’s good for us; for Spur as a whole. Bulgan has set himself up as your anathema.”

Erick sat down. “… What?”

“How much do you know about Shade magics?”

“I thought they were just archmages?”

“On a basic level, this is true.” Killzone said, “There’s a very involved process to how a person falls to the Darkness; about how they crystallize their beliefs into a source of power for themselves, and how they use this Truth to form the rad in the center of their being. That’s about all you have to know to proceed with understanding the Shades, and how we think they gain their power. What Bulgan has done, is crystallize a powerful Truth. And since you can’t become an archmage without a powerful Truth, Bulgan is therefore, by definition and practice, an archmage.

“You can’t become a Shade without a powerful Truth. Or, more accurately, you can’t become an artificial archmage without being able to survive the rad implantation processes, while holding onto whatever temperamental Truth aligned to your Self and Soul. This crystallization of Self both burns out everything that is not conducive to your Truth, as well as empowering that Truth to new heights.

“Theoretically. We’re not entirely sure. But we’re ninety percent sure.

“When it comes to Shades, some of them descend with specific goals close to their heart. Those goals become the center of their new Self. Goals that are aligned against specific, magically powerful targets, are some of the strongest goals a Shade can be born into.” Killzone finished with, “According to what we already know, Bulgan wants to kill you and Jane more than most. So, as a Shade, of course he can counter everything you do.”

As pieces fell into place and Erick realized the depth of the problem he faced, he asked, “I could never win against him, could I?”

“Ehh…” Killzone said, “You could kill him. Theoretically. But he’s an anti-archmage Shade, directly empowered by Melemizargo himself to be a latent weapon to use specifically against you.” He added, “And Jane, too, no doubt. But because you and Jane are nothing alike in your tactics, that there is a flaw in his power. Therefore, I think you could, theoretically kill him. But it would be tough.

“But there are ways around this problem. The most obvious way is to let someone else take care of it. But that likely won’t happen, because Bulgan is currently deeply in Melemizargo’s favor. That was why he was able to eat your light so well. It’s not an intrinsic part of his ability.” Killzone said, “So that’s a bit of good news.

“It was surprising for me to see him eat your light, too, but considering the outcome of the fight, and how it appears that Bulgan was in Melemizargo’s graces all along, this is not actually surprising. So the normal methods of killing Shades don’t work, there. He was partially damaged when you hit him with that lightning bolt, though. But, again, he’s in Melemizargo’s favor, and lightning has long been considered a form of very strong light, so, again, can’t use lightning against him—”

“That’s bullshit!” Erick said, “Lightning is not light!”

Killzone continued undaunted, “In fact, any magic you use against Bulgan will likely get eaten by the Shade, because, again, he is empowered to fight against you. This might be how he was able to dispel your spells so easily. He did not actually dispel them at all. He ate them all.

“But that’s just an educated guess.”

“Shit.” Erick said, “It’s like that Blood Barrier, or whatever it was called. The one that the Halls of the Dead used that soaked up all magic in order to strengthen itself.”

“Yes.” Killzone said, smiling.

Erick frowned. “Why are you so happy? This is terrible!”

Killzone smiled wider. “I am happy, because you’re capable of winning against a Shade.” He added, “Maybe not against Bulgan, for he was created to counter you, but I can name seven Shades right now, that if you were to fight, you would trounce. Practically any Shade that doesn’t focus on shadow’s ability to turn light into power, would be an even fight.” He added, “As long as you knew where they were, and they couldn’t find you, that is.”

“… Who, then?”

Killzone said, “First, I must say this, and you must take it to heart: Any Shade of the Spire, you must avoid completely. But right now, as you are, you could likely kill Salvolanche, Shade of Stone. He oversees the wall of Ar’Kendrithyst. His duty is to ensure no one gets inside the city by going over the wall, but he’s a pushover in almost every respect. They made him that way. They haven’t ever put someone too strong on the wall. Then there’s Gora, Shade of the Arena. He puts people into death games in his arena, but always goes all out. He had already fallen out of favor because Porter is dead, and thus the constant flow of [Teleport]ed adventurers into his death games, has stopped, causing his sponsors in the Spire to find his current shows not as exciting as usual. If he fell out of favor completely, he could easily be killed, since he is inside his arena all the time.” He said, “Spinner would be tough, but she’s also doable. She’s the Shade of the Sky. She oversees air defense for the city, but Stardust, both the Shade of the Edge and a Shade of the Spire, has been moving against Spinner recently, trying to get the other Shades of the Spire to dismiss Spinner’s office as redundant, and to double Stardust’s authority over the skies of Ar’Kendrithyst.

“Are you seeing the pattern, here?” Killzone asked, “This pattern applies to Bulgan, too.”

Erick saw the pattern. He said, “I need to work them against each other until they drop from favor, and then I can kill them. Dropping Bulgan from Melemizargo’s favor would be more difficult.”

“I have several ideas, but the Shadow Games are always shifting underfoot and I cannot act except in very specific circumstances of which I will never name, for then I would be exposing myself.” Killzone said, “But you’ve been declared Untouchable. I heard it yesterday, but I did not believe it until today, when I heard those same words from Fallopolis and Undine.” Killzone looked down at Erick, by virtue of his stature alone, and not with his words, as he said, “Undine sent a care package to Forward Base, to give to my care to give to you. It was a clutch of leviathan eggs, meant to be hatched in a lake that she expects you to build around Candlepoint. Since you didn’t have the lake yet, I was able to talk her down to a book on raising monsters. I left that book at Candlepoint, in the Crystal. I advise you to look at the cover, and then leave it there, and not care if someone steals it. Or, perhaps, you can put it up as a prize in the city. And then give it away. Propriety matters more than outcome.

“And then Fallopolis came to Forward Base. She wishes you well in dismantling Ar’Kendrithyst from the inside.”

Erick said, “That cannot be a real sentiment.”

“I’ve been at this job for centuries, but Fallopolis has been here longer; not as long as Silverite, but near enough. It’s impossible to know Fallopolis’ true goals, since she often speaks in contradictions.” Killzone said, “But we know some of the actions she takes, and then follows through upon. Fallopolis always leads the charge against Shades who fail to be as strong as they can be. This is something she does against all other Shades. Sometimes, she will even tell people who walk into the Dead City who is weak and who is ready for pillaging. Most of the time the other Shades brush her off as a nuisance, but some of the time, the adventurers she sends out to certain locations succeed really well, and get away. Sometimes, she openly wars with a Shade who comes knocking at the Crack, wanting to fight. Neither side ever wins, but Cludolphis often has to show up— That’s the Shade of Mending. She often shows up in the aftermath of those fights, in order to repair the pillars and skyroads of the city back into place.

“But the deep and the wide of Fallopolis, is that she’s a wildcard who always plays the crazy grandma, and sometimes takes her role too far.” Killzone added, “You can usually trust her words to be true, but maybe not the full truth.”

Erick sat back, and thought for a long moment. For a brief moment, he sent his senses back to Candlepoint, back into the Ophiel flying through the streets of the rainbow, dark city, healing who they could, as they could. Nothing looked too wrong, at the moment. People were still helping others, as they could, or walking around in dazes, staring at the destruction.

Erick came back to himself, and asked, “What do you think I should do with Candlepoint?”

“Your choice.” Killzone said, “It’s yours now, according to everything I’ve heard.”

“… What does that mean, though?”

“When Bulgan called you his brother in Darkness, that was something that Shades sometimes say to each other when they cede territory away to another. Bulgan has moved on.” Killzone said, “We called him the Shade of Candlepoint, but none of the other Shades ever used that term. Now, they’re openly referring to him as the Shade of Umber Street. That’s where all the prizes were manufactured, and it’s now officially Bulgan’s territory. It’s right next to the Spire.”

A deep swell of hatred rocked through Erick’s chest. He blinked long, then said, “Okay.”

“As far as what you should do with Candlepoint? You have a choice. It’s a very large choice, and you will need to commit to it, one way or the other.” Killzone said, “But first, let me tell you about what I do in a day to day setting.”

“… Okay?”

“It’ll make sense when I’m done, and it’s necessary to know before we get into your choice, so that you can make an informed decision.”

Erick frowned a little, but then nodded, and waited.

Killzone began, “Let’s take Firstday, last week; the beginning of the month. It’s the last month of the year, so a lot of Shades are turning their attentions and preparations toward Shadow’s Feast, the last day of the year, before the Triumph of Light, and Festival…”

 

– – – –

 

Killzone woke with the sound of a disaster, as usual. This time there had been a minor explosion on the lower reaches of Forward Base, that rocked the whole tower. A proper response was needed, and Killzone was the man to give it. He had gotten a good two hours of downtime in, so he felt rather ready to tackle whatever was happening down below.

Killzone turned to shadows, then dipped down, traveling fast through the kendrithyst crystal that ran along the outside of Forward Base.

Three moments later, in the upper middle reaches of the Dead City, where the red-purple-smokey crystal was still lit from within and without by faint light from above, Killzone stood in the center of a scene of progressing carnage that abruptly stopped at his appearance. That was good. He would start with a nice, even tone of voice, maybe even slip some drawl in there to let these combatants know that they weren’t in too much immediate trouble.

Everyone here was in deep slag, but Killzone could have a measured response.

“Please! Killzone, you gotta help!” cried out one of the still living victims, clinging to a woman who was clearly dying from a gut wound.

The air was filled with a [Teleport Lock], of course, because Hollowsaur, the Shade of the Hunt, stood not thirty meters away, wearing nothing but a loincloth. His orcol flesh was on full display, like usual, for it was heavily decorated with knotty, clawed scars, ritually carved into his skin by his own clawed hands. His two beasts stood with him, but they did not actually stand on the skyroads with the Shade; they clung to the sides of the kendrithyst towers. Killzone had to look up to take in their full forms.

One, was a monster that was almost a spider, but its head was made of many shadowolf skulls, while its body and ten grasping arms were made of all the other bones. The other monster, on the other side of the road, clung to the purple kendrithyst tower like a pile of red meat in the shape of an ooze, but with more tentacles.

Hollowsaur stood tall, a spear in his hand, while his beasts began to circle the area. They had been diving straight for the man and the woman at Killzone’s feet, but at the General’s appearance, the beasts returned to pack hunter tactics. Hollowsaur was there to bait out a response, while the others waited for an opportunity to strike.

Killzone made a show of eyeing the beasts, as they vanished around the opposite sides of kendrithyst towers, but in truth, he could see with every part of his body; he was a wrought, after all. Some of the Shades did not fall for his obvious posturing, but Hollowsaur was not one of them.

Hollowsaur shook his spear at Killzone. “This is my hunt! They poached my fields! I demand blood!”

Killzone could have said something about how Hollowsaur left his menagerie open for poaching, specifically so he could hunt the people who came for the high level monsters, but that would be falling into a trap. Logic never mattered to a Shade. The only thing that mattered was the show, and the fight.

Killzone said, “And y’all’ve fought these poor souls to the edge of their stamina. Maybe they could come back stronger and give you a better hunt in another month, if you let them go. You’ve obviously overpowered them, and too easily, at that.” He casually pointed toward a bloody stain on the road, and a hand sitting just beyond Hollowsaur. “Neither of these weak kids are missing a hand, so I reckon you already got a few of them already. At least one.”

Hollowsaur scowled as he eyed the hand sitting on the ground to his left. “Bah!” He knocked it off the skyroad, into the unseen depths below. “Two out of four is not recompense enough! Stand aside!”

The boy at Killzone’s feet whispered, desperately clutching the woman, saying, “There were six of us.”

Killzone said to the boy, “Now you ain’t calling Hollowsaur a liar, are you?”

As the boy paled, Hollowsaur laughed.

“They don’t matter to you either, Killzone!” The Shade threatened, “Give them to me.”

“You’re right.” Killzone said, nonchalant. “These kids? They don’t matter.” Killzone looked up from the boy, to stare across the distance toward Hollowsaur. “But y’all entered my territory.” He pointed behind him, and upward, at a large crack that had split across the kendrithyst crystal that supported Forward Base. It wasn’t a major split; there was no danger of Forward Base falling. But there was a black spear in the center of that crack. A spear exactly like the one Hollowsaur gripped, right now. Killzone dropped his drawl, saying, “But you did that.” He casually moved that pointing finger to the bottom left, behind him, and without turning during the whole show, said, “And you think your carrion swarm can sneak up on me. It’s just disrespectful, Hollowsaur.”

Hollowsaur narrowed his glowing white eyes. “I go where the hunt leads.”

The carrion swarm backed away, retreating completely out of sight, behind the curve of a kendrithyst tower, as some unsaid communication passed between master and beast.

The skeleton swarm slipped around a curve in the upper crystals and launched right at Killzone, though. He was ready for it. Hollowsaur was ready for it, too.

Before Killzone could crash through the skeleton monster, Hollowsaur reeled back his hand, like yanking on a dog’s leash. The skeleton swarm flew backwards; the Shade yanking his pet back as one would an unruly dog, to prevent it from killing itself.

Killzone halted his forward movement at the edge of the skyroad, as the skeleton swarm crashed backward near Hollowsaur, breaking hundreds of bones, but surviving the fight. Killzone just looked at the skeleton swarm, then Hollowsaur. Finally, he turned his eyes toward the carrion swarm, that slipped up behind the Shade like the obedient pet that it was.

Killzone nodded toward the skeleton swarm, and said, “Beautiful pets. I hope your eyebeast is ready for Shadow’s Feast. You made such a good showing last year.”

He had said that because Hollowsaur’s eyebeast was always the Shade’s prized monster, but some unfortunate idiots had killed it only a month ago. Killzone ended up slipping into the menagerie to give those people merciful deaths two days after the Shade rounded up every last person in that adventuring party. He would have done it sooner, but Hollowsaur was too attentive during the harvesting process. It was only after Hollowsaur had gathered enough eyes from that adventuring team, to start his new beast, that he grew careless enough in his watch to allow Killzone the opportunity.

Hollowsaur laughed. “Gold eyes and already level 86! Eyebeast number 71 will be more than ready for Shadow’s Feast.” He smiled, a wicked thing, saying, “I’ll hunt you someday, Killzone.”

“You hunt your own death.”

Hollowsaur chuckled, grinned, then turned around. Ten steps later, the Shade stepped through a shaft of light, then into shadows, vanishing from sight. His beasts began galloping down the skyroad, following their master through the physical world, toward the menagerie. The wolf howled a thousand echoing calls to darkness as it vanished out of view. Its fleshy cousin did nothing but burble and slap down the road, but from one second to the next, it turned absolutely silent. Killzone watched it glide around a corner.

The boy, holding the woman, said, “She’s dead.”

Killzone said nothing. He just stood there. Waiting. Hollowsaur’s [Teleport Lock] was still active. He had not actually retreated—

A small, quick beast of fangs and teeth rounded the edge of the skyroad, aimed directly at the boy.

With a step through shadows and the back of his hand, Killzone struck the monster across one of its front legs, slapping it aside, turning sharp teeth into shrapnel that impacted the kendrithyst tower beyond, chipping crystal. The baby beast fell apart. Killzone had aimed correctly, breaking the animating rad located in the third largest tooth of the whole monster. If someone was watching, they might have wondered why he aimed at the monster’s leg. But Killzone had seen more than his share of swarm monsters. Hollowsaur never put the rad in the most obvious part. Killzone had been two meters from killing the shadowolf skeleton swarm with a similar [Strike].

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

A laugh echoed through the shadows of the middle reaches.

The [Teleport Lock] vanished.

The boy began to weep.

Killzone turned to the kid, saying, “Get up. Get up. Get going. Now.”

 

– – – –

 

In the shadows of the gazebo, Killzone said, “Wisely or unwisely, you have chosen to wrest control of Candlepoint away from Bulgan, and step directly into the politics of Ar’Kendrithyst. The Shades might give you a day or two before they come for you, but I doubt it. The good news is that they won’t come to kill, but to torture and sound you out.” Killzone said, “When I spoke of your choice, it is this: The only options you have at the moment, is deciding where you draw the line in the tunnel. If you draw that line too far or too wide, then they will walk all over you. If you draw it too close, then you have no room to maneuver.” He said, “One of my lines is Forward Base. Any actions taken against the base itself demands a similar action in return. I made a choice about how to enforce my lines, and it was all I could do at that moment to save the boy. If I had stepped further into that conflict, or tried to save the woman, then one of my soldiers would have been hunted in retaliation.”

Hearing Killzone’s small story was like a splash of cold water directly in Erick’s face. The Shades all needed to die, this much was obvious. But then Killzone’s question was not about if Erick wanted to take control of Candlepoint, it was the degree to which Erick would be willing to protect his unexpected city. Erick had no idea where he wanted to draw the line, but right now…

Erick frowned, as said, “Part of me expected anger from you, or someone, over this action.”

“I’m furious.”

At mentioning his anger, Erick could see that he was telling the truth. From the tension in his shoulders to the wry smile on his lips, he hid his emotions well, and the darkness of his black iron body helped to conceal a great deal of emotional cues on his face. But his anger was there, for sure. And then it was gone. Killzone had let his mask slip for a bare moment to show his displeasure, and then put the mask right back on.

It occurred to Erick, that he had always had difficult, yet friendly relations with Killzone. From the openness of the General’s displeasure at Erick not knowing combat, and needing to take Mog’s remedial adventuring classes, to Killzone’s pure enchanted joy at getting a blacklight rock, and his entire body glowing with purple fluorescence… He had never really spoken to the man, before now. Killzone was a dangerous man, but he was also doing the best he could with what he had, and that led to anger, as it would with anyone. That some of that anger was because of Erick, was not something that Erick ever meant to happen.

Erick said, “I never meant for this to happen.”

Killzone said, “I know. I’m not… I’m not actually mad at you. Not truly. It is normal for Shades to have some of this cunning, some of this long term planning and this ability to put their insanity aside long enough to really hurt someone. But… Creating a city and then having them plot well enough for you to take control of it like that? We’re in uncharted territory, Erick. They’ve never been this far-thinking about the big painting stuff for this long.” He said, “But Silverite did speak in jest of you taking over Candlepoint as a possibility, but then we returned to discussing the real threats. Shadeling assassins. Regime changes in the rest of the world. The annihilation of half of the cities on Glaquin. Crystal Mimics purposefully spread to the rest of the world. It wasn’t till weeks later, when Candlepoint had yet to accomplish anything too evil, that we began discussing smaller, longer timescale threats.” He added, “We knew what our response would be to this scenario long before you got here. And so, we are all still your allies in this. But you need to make a decision about where you will draw your lines, and if you can’t keep those lines solid, then… I doubt you will be dead. But something bad will happen.” He said, “I cannot let anything happen to Spur or Forward Base. I will help you in some things, but I cannot be too much your ally, for my people might become unintended victims. We are always but a step or two away from death.”

“… Thanks, Killzone.”

“That said: Call me up anytime you need direction.” Killzone leaned back in his seat, asking, “Got any ideas on how you want to operate Candlepoint? A mayor, or a teacher? A gardener or an enforcer? Or something else?”

“I have no idea—” Erick suddenly waved a hand at nothing in particular, as he added, “And it’s still ridiculous that I’ve ‘won’ anything! Bulgan didn’t even give me a fight!” He said, “I made so many mistakes, too, Killzone.”

“Sudden movements are bad, Erick.” Killzone said, “Don’t do that when the Shades come knocking.”

Erick looked at his hand. He settled down, saying, “Shit.”

“You will learn.” Killzone stood up from the stone bench.

Erick stood, too, wondering briefly how much of Killzone’s mannerisms were cultured to convey certain emotions in his audience, and how much of it was real, or not.

Erick was not some greenhorn kid, completely oblivious to how people operated and emoted, or how politics worked in local governments, but all of his experiences with politics and life were either Earthly experiences, or heavily shielded from him on Veird, either by Poi and his guards, or the very nature of Polite Society, and how his magic allowed actions at a vast distance. How did Silverite operate on a day to day basis? What did Merit do to keep Spur safe? How much influence did the Mage and Adventurer guilds actually have? What sort of problems would he have, being ‘in charge’ of Candlepoint?

But that was getting ahead of himself. The whole situation was crazy, and moving way too fast.