One step at a time, Eric finished crossing the pathway between realms, stepping free of the alleyway and leaving behind predator-filled woodlands for equally perilous city ruins. The scents of loam, rotting leaves, clean winter air, spruce and pine was now completely replaced by the foul taint of smoke-filled air smelling of superheated asphalt, burning wood, plastic, insulation, and fouler scents still, all hanging like a thick miasma in the air.
The earlier roars and shouts of combat they had heard while preparing themselves had already faded. Now there was only eerie silence, for however long it would last.
Bunbun scowled as they strode across rubble-strewn streets, the once desolate and mostly intact warehouse district now shattered ruins. A meth-head’s blackened, crumbling teeth in a ruined city that had certainly seen better days. The late afternoon air was now bereft of the earlier cleansing fog, now showing nothing but smoking ruins and crumpled, broken bodies of mercenaries and a pair of werewolves as well.
“Ooh, things must still be pretty damned hot if the bodies with all that choice gear hasn’t already been claimed by one faction or the other—but now claimed by Team Eric! Well done, Fearless Leader. Why leave powered armor here when Nikita’s shop could sell them for such sweet profit back in Freetown? Ooh, don’t forget those Hyperion Sniper Rifles… yes! Sweet, sweet lewt.”
Eric flashed a bleak smile, claiming both mercenaries and wolves, leaving nothing behind. And most definitely not looking too close at the blinking yellow lights, a single glance all it took to see hungry eyes and gaunt cheeks. A worn looking man holding a pair of young girls dressed in patched jackets and knitted caps that didn’t do nearly enough to block the chilly wind cutting through their thin, tattered winter ware. The three shivered before the bitter gusts that Eric only felt like the gentlest of tingles against his skin, effortless to ignore.
Yet he couldn’t ignore the weight of their gaze upon his back.
“Where’s mommy? She said she was going to scavenge. She said she’d be right back!”
Eric swallowed, stopping where he stood, right in the middle of the ruined road.
The oldest girl gasped.
The youngest began to cry, her father desperately trying to shush her, anxious panic in his own voice, and Eric didn’t blame the girl or the father one bit.
He knew what he must look like.
A Contender.
A killer.
Just one more insane classer with monstrous, inhuman power, tearing up the fragile world they knew for their aggrandizement and twisted pleasure.
His nature was unmistakable, holding a 25 foot long soul-bound spear straight up, with what had once been a mithril blade at his hip that was now transformed into the physical manifestation of a Transcendent concept, so different from the crimson one he could summon at will… and as far as these innocents were concerned, exactly the same.
Death in one form or another.
He was completely covered in mithril armor down to his thighs with an artifact-tier cuirass saturated with the Essence of Impermeability… and an essence enhanced shield he had made by magic and will alone, so strong and so real that it had actually survived the alleyway between realms without even a flicker.
And none of that mattered to a desperate family.
To children so gaunt, so thin, that death by starvation or simple illness that exhausted bodies couldn’t fight off was a very real possibility.
None of that mattered to a mother so desperate to feed her family that she was scavenging in the middle of a—
“Eric, do you hear that?”
But Eric was already moving. Knowing he had no time but not really caring, soul-bound sarissa instantly returned to storage as he darted through rubble and ruin and smoke filled with a desperate wheezing cough, panicked eyes widening as he parted fallen rubble so effortlessly. His Mad Bomber perk at least assuring that the hole he carefully made wouldn’t collapse the pocket in the rubble that a bruised and exhausted looking woman wheezing for breath had been trapped in.
“Please… Please don’t—”
Eric winced as desperate brown eyes in a once beautiful face now lined with the weight of fear, starvation, and exhaustion gazed imploringly into his own.
Once, a year and a half ago, she would have been shouting for help. Now she was simply begging not to be savaged by manic spree killers who treated the entire world and all the hapless survivors still on it as nothing more than a game.
Eric did his best to soothe her. She flinched and grimaced.
“Please!”
He could sense the desperate thought long before she could even wheeze out the word.
Eric froze, instantly understanding. At 1800 Quickness in addition to the now 75 points he was still holding onto… he was moving over 90 times the speed of an Olympian Fencer. And with his Battletime perks, it wasn’t just desperate savage reflexes in times of peril. He was fully capable of thinking, processing, and living at this speed.
Which meant that his words had come out as a sonic shriek. A sonic shriek that came so naturally to higher level classers, it seemed, even if their own processing speed hadn’t been as well balanced as his, and they had received no Battletime perk at all… needing close to perfectly balanced Finesse and Perception as well as Quickness to gain a shadow of what he had.
And none of that changed the fact that he had caused this terrified starving woman a split second of hideous pain… before instantly silencing himself, taking full advantage of his own reaction time. So that by the time she registered her own pain… he was silent once more.
Eric swallowed, softening his voice, speaking what now felt unnaturally slowly, so used to hyperspeak and Battletime, having lived in that furious state for quite some time, he realized… Natasha and his friends and foes all being powerful players, all of them also living life at hyper accelerated speed, at least when their adrenaline was high, time was urgent, and the fight was on.
“It’s alright,” he whispered carefully. “I’m here to get you out of here.”
The woman’s eyes lit up with desperate hope. “My name’s Karen. Please… if you could help me I’d truly be grateful!” She bit her lip, speaking so slowly, processing so slowly. And Eric’s heart bled for her pain.
“My family needs me.”
Eric forced a smile even as the air rang with howls.
Karen blanched, choking back a sob. “It’s not safe here, is it?”
“Nope, not a bit,” quipped Bunbun, earning a look of wide-eyed awe from Karen.
“You have a familiar? Like in a Potter movie!” Much to Eric’s relief, she looked excited, not terrified. “Oh, wait until Marsha finds out talking familiars are real!”
Eric nodded, gently raising his hand. “Come on, Karen, let me help you out.”
She swallowed, plaintive eyes meeting his own as a too fragile mortal hand reached out for his own. “Please…”
He winked. “It’s okay, Karen,” he said, as the building gave up all pretense of stability and completely crashed down on top of him.
Karen screamed. Before her eyes widened in disbelief at the youth, with his hands and feet on air… effortlessly holding up the ruins of an entire building, arching his body over her own… that to him felt no heavier than a mound of snow.
“Oh my god!”
Eric smiled into panicked eyes. “It’s fine. I’ve gotten pretty strong. But the sooner you crawl out from underneath me… the less chance of this thing shifting any further and collapsing.”
Karen’s eyes widened. She whimpered as she desperately scurried out of the ruined building.
“Mommy! Mommy!” A girls surprised, desperate voice rang through the air.
“Marsha, get back here it’s not… Karen!”
“I’m here, George, I’m… I’m okay!” The woman declared with a sob as a relieved Eric carefully shifted the weight around him, pieces of shattered rebar pressing against his skin like toilet paper as he carefully shook himself free of the ruin, going slowly, doing his best not to risk bursting rubble, or causing anything to fly through the air and hit too fragile mortal flesh.
“Eric, Trouble!”
But Eric already knew.
The air was now filled with howls, and Eric immediately understood.
He had just slipped free of the veil between the realm of moonlight and New York proper, and clearly at least some of the wolves were intent on going home.”
“Eric!”
Heart pounding with frustration, Eric carefully extracted himself from the ruin without sending rubble exploding in all directions which it would if he weren’t fucking careful!
And none of that mattered when the air filled with screams.
An eye-blink later, he was free. Gazing at a tableau that tore at his soul.
George and his daughters, racing toward Marsha, tears of hope in careworn features. Moving so slowly at the Battletime speeds Eric instantly embraced as his soul howled in furious counterpoint to the frenzied wolf tearing around the boulevard as plasma fire trailed them.
And a single careless claw swipe was all it would take to turn a family’s desperate hope into eternal tragedy. Sharp claws trailing streaks of oblivion, the essence of sharpness cutting through the air itself as the panicked wolf swept all resistance aside.
How effortlessly it could cut through fragile mortal flesh, father and daughters, unable to resist those terrible claws
Before being stopped cold. Inches away from the father’s face, the man moving so slowly as a glaring Eric popped into seeming existence before him, Speed Racer all that kept what would otherwise have been an explosion of air from generating shockwaves that themselves could have proven lethal, to both George and his two wide-eyed daughters.
“Marsha!”
How the mother was able to process it so quickly, Eric didn’t know, her thought hitting his psyche long before she could scream the actual word.
But by that time it was already too late.
For the wolf, at least.
“How dare you get in my way, filthy—ARGH!”
Eric squeezed, choking down his killing fury as Burst of Strength took full effect and the werewolf’s 400 Strength & Vitality-infused limb shattered with the crack of oak logs exploding.
Before the ape-sized werewolf could even finish howling, or swipe Eric with its other claw, it was already flying through the air, ribs shattering like ice before Eric’s furious blow as it hurtled into the pair of power armored assholes that were tearing around the corner, hyperspeak comms now pinging perfectly to Eric’s well-trained ears, now 40 Quickness points faster than he had ever been before, no longer holding back, measuring his blows against easy prey.
Now he was striking with full furious intent, drinking down a full 10% of his foe’s Quickness and Vitality with a single furious bone cracking punch to the lupine bastard’s now shattered solar plexus.
“Command, we’ve tracked down one of Mord’s scouts. They’re attempting to double back to the rift! Bring all available men to the ambush sight. Inform Lord Song at once!”
The mercenary’s words cut off as he was thrown off his feet by the prey they had been chasing, the second merc instantly registering the wild-eyed killer with resummoned spear now glaring their way.
“Command! We’ve encountered unexpected resistance! Database pings target as… Eric Silver! Arcadia’s prince is here! Strength is outside expected parameters! Repeat! Target is not a diplomat! Eric Silver is a Contender… NO!”
“Well, there goes our cover, Fearless Leader!” Bunbun quipped, eyes glinting dangerously. “No need for us to hold back any longer. Let’s wipe these motherfuckers out!”
Eric let the words wash over him as Marsha finally screamed her panic in real time.
And all Eric felt at the glares of recognition and cold calculation from the power armored mercenaries was heart pounding FURY!
The clearly cared nothing for the lives of the fragile human beings whose existence had become endless awful struggle. Desperate only to survive, too easily crushed under the boots of cold-eyed killers who cared only for their own desires. Their own ‘missions’ and nothing for the hundreds of thousands who still called this ruined city home.
And the despairing sob of the woman who had come so close to losing her family… the sob of a woman who, in another time and place, had Aurelia lacked a Silver’s incredible power, could have been his own mother, and he a helpless child about to be slaughtered by lupine claws and blaster fire, all filled him with a monstrous fury far beyond the wrath he had felt taking out Spiky.
One had been a hunt.
This was the dying plea and furious cry of the human race itself.
A cry that would not go unanswered as Eric howled his fury, fists filled with the same bitter icy wrath that had infused his strikes as he braced his sarissa and charged right for the chest plate of the mercenary shouting in his comms as Eric felt triple Blaster Perk feats lock onto him in the blink of an eye.
His foe’s panicked features lit up in a fierce smile through his translucent face-plate. “You’re mine, Prince Er—”
Words cut off in a blast of superheated plasma and the sharp crack of Exelcior-grade Power armor exploding into frozen chunks as Eric’s 25 foot spear tore through his foe’s chest, a roaring and only slightly singed Eric running his foe completely through at Mach IV as Spear finally ascended to Elite tier status, perk already claimed as his foe stared at Eric in frozen-eyed disbelief an eyeblink before Eric rammed into him shoulder-first at full speed… the now frozen corpse exploding into shrapnel spraying in all directions in front of Eric… and not one piece of shrapnel risking the precious lives behind him.
Your foe has successfully locked MULTIPLE Piercing Shot perks upon your person!
Enhanced Triple-Perk blaster fire expertly slips past Cuirass of the Underlord.
Marksman’s Strike FAILS to lock in kill-shot!
Hyperion Blazer Perk enhances Elemental Resistance to 691!
Your flesh is more resistant to elemental arts than Imperial-Grade Dreadnought Armor! (600 Resistance).
Hyperion Rifle kill shot successfully inflicts first degree burn.
You have successfully struck your foe at Mach IV with Soul-Bound Spear!
Charge of the Prismatic Light Brigade II boon in full effect!
Death’s Disciple boon in full effect!
Greater Reaver II boon in Full effect!
You have achieved Rank 30 in: Spear!
Spear has ascended to Elite Tier status!
Your spear has become an extension of yourself!
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Legendary Feat: Warrior’s Reach automatically chosen!
You have unlocked the mystical ability to transfer unarmed melee or touch attacks involving essences and Spiritual Energy through your spear as if it were an extension of yourself with a successful Breakthrough!
Qi Skills unlocked so far: Doom Strike!
Doom Strike is now Rank 12!
Additional Doom Strike enhancement unlocked! Should you slay your foe while using this Essence Skill, your foe will freeze into a block of ice at negative temperature! You may shatter your foe for explosive area-of-effect damage as you choose in whatever direction you choose… for Ice knows its master!
ALL HAIL THE WINTER KING!
You have gained an additional temporary boon of 36 Mana, 36 Quickness, & 36 Vitality! = You now enjoy a temporary +186 Boost to all three attributes (Vitality is at maximum temporary boost, though you may still drain your foe’s. Note! Present target lacks Spiritual Energy).
Multiple interface messages flashed within Eric’s mind, telling him what he already knew, in that moment feeling such a profound connection to his spear that it truly were just an extension of himself. And considering how useful it had been in charging through and taking out the most catastrophic army imaginable… he was grateful to feel its connection to him grow. Grow to the point that he could close his eyes and feel the head of his spear clench with bitter, furious cold as if his fist truly had just extended into a diamond hard and razor sharp point.
“Command! Eric Silver has taken Rol and the target out with a single pair of strikes! Essence-aligned Ice powers have manifested! Warn Lord Song of the peril at once! I’m doubling back!” Screamed the steadily ascending voice, taking full advantage of whatever thrusters or anti-grav jet pack that was supposed to be increasingly difficult for more powerful Bronze classers to use.
Clearly, Song had gotten a clue since he last attempted to blow up Eric’s world and was now equipping his squads, at least some of his absurdly elite squads, with air superiority.
Which would normally be an absolute trump card in any engagement.
Eric flashed a fierce, bitter cold smile at the power armored merc fleeing for all he was worth.
“You thinking what I’m thinking, Bun?”
Bun nodded. “Don’t worry, I already got a force field around the kittens. You go charge that fucker and keep leveling up those glorious skills!”
Eric did just that, racing up at an angle that he declared was actually perfectly flat, and gravity and intertia both seemed eager to obey, even as the cold-eyed mercenary firing multiple streams of plasma that Eric no longer bothered to dodge… lest they end up blasting right into the perilously fragile family below.
“No, no, impossible! You’re no Deep Sil—no!”
Cold contempt disguised as professionalism turned to uncertainty then dismay as the Bronze mercenary’s worst fears came true.
A foe who could charge through the air at jet fighter speeds and pivot on a dime as if inertia was nothing, while being protected by flesh so saturated with potency that imperial dreadnoughts could do no better.
Though Eric was no fool. He kept his eyes perfectly closed lest plasma blind him, Infravision all he needed to lock onto his panicked prey… and to fully appreciate a spear tip that was somehow negative tens of thousands of degrees.
“He’s charging! The Prince can run through—”
The man’s final panicked report was cut off with the shriek of ruptured high tech polymers instantly freezing a heartbeat before the entire body exploded in a show of brilliant crystallized flesh and shattered armor, catching the crimson gold rays of the slowly setting sun.
Congratulations!
Charge is now Rank 22!
3rd Tier Core Saturation is now at 92.99%!
Eve continues to be impressed with your exalted evolution as an ever deadlier Contender.
NOTE! No Cultivation levels have been awarded with this encounter!
Your battle recordings may be all the rage in certain elite circles, but elite Hyperion Sniper Rifles now give you no worse than first degree burns. No matter the Bronze-Tier perks in play against you!
Go, go, Super Punch Man!
Show Conceptio just how far you can push a non-cored Contender’s class while we collect ever-more precious data!
Eric took a shuddering breath before allowing gravity to drop him to the ground now far below… impact doing absolutely nothing that the slightest flex of his knees didn’t ease, no matter the shocked looks of the family he had done his best to rescue.
Karen, holding her daughter’s so tightly as George wrapped his arm protectively around all three of them, was gazing at him with a heartbreaking mix of gratitude and terror.
She wept and crumpled to her knees, her anxious children crying in sympathy.
“Thank you, hero! Thank you for our lives!”
Eric gave his gentlest smile, taking off his increasingly irrelevant helm to appear more approachable.
More human.
“You really shouldn’t be here,” he counseled. “As you can see, it really isn’t safe.”
The older daughter, however, was now furiously wiping away her tears, soft brown eyes looking into his own with wonder.
“You’re him.”
Eric blinked at that. “Who?”
“The boy in all the tabloids with Elonia, New York’s favorite up-and-coming starlet! You’re her brother, right? Evy had such a big crush on you, back when we were still in school! She’s my best friend. What was your name? I’m Macy, by the way!”
Eric flushed at that as the mother and father shared a look. “Eric, a pleasure to meet you,” he found himself saying with the same force of habit he used to greet all of his sister’s inevitable fans.
What now felt like a lifetime ago.
“She’s right, he looks just like him!” Karen whispered.
The father nodded. “I thought those photos were all photo-shopped. I guess Hollywood royalty really does just look that good.”
“Time, fearless leader!” Bunbun quipped from the top of his head, tapping her wrist as if it were an invisible watch, earning fresh looks of wonder from the entire family.
“Right, Bun. Alright, what can we do to get you all home safely?”
Instantly the mood turned bleak, the mother and father holding their suddenly trembling girls close, the lightness of moments ago pressed with the crushing weight of despair once more.
“We have no home,” Karen whispered.
George nodded, shivering along with his family as a cold gust blew through their too thin clothing. “We had a home… our apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was ours… before was claimed by others.” Husband and wife shared a haunted look.
“We were lucky to escape when we did. Since then, the warehouse district is now our home… the home of more and more of us that have been displaced.” He flashed a bleak smile. “For a while, there was hope. Crabs and lobsters have become incredibly common since the… event. And if you put in enough hours working under the right boss, he’ll give you enough to feed your family.”
He then sighed and shook his head. “But things have gotten ugly, even there. Just yesterday, the orcs declared the river banks and all its resources theirs, and made their point by eating anyone who didn’t leave fast enough.”
Marsha trembled at those words, Macy gathering her little sister close.
George hung his head before his wife’s glare. “Sorry, that’s just the truth of it. Now we’re scavenging for scraps, and trying to scout out a safe place to sleep for tonight.”
Eric exchanged a look with his familiar who slowly shook her head. “Sorry, Fearless Leader, but it wouldn’t be a good idea for them to dare the ways, even a well-beaten path. Not as mortals. In all likelihood, they’d fade away like figments of a dream.”
Marsha and Macy paled at that. “No, please! We’ll be good, we don’t want to… fade,” Macy pled when Marsha burst into tears.
George’s features tightened. “Our benefactor isn’t suggesting any such thing. He knows we aren’t classers. That we risk our lives going anyplace that regular humans don’t belong. Right, hero?”
Eric flashed a sad smile. “Eric is fine. Let’s see if there’s someplace safe we can take you all to…”
Macy bit her lip. “Our grandmother lived on Long Island. I wish…” she gave a sad shake of her head. “But it doesn’t matter now.”
Eric frowned, checking his interface map… alarmed by what he saw.
“Sorry, Fearless Leader. The city’s undergone a lot of changes since… you know. Most of those changes are not too good.”
Eric winced. “Yeah. Okay, let’s focus on where we can take you now.”
Lilly grinned, pointing south with her ear. “Safer residential area’s that way, hoss! Grim filled me in on all sorts of interesting things, like local geography and politics and the local Necromancer scene topside and in Natasha’s neck of the woods while you were um… you know,” she said with a pointed look at the pair of girls and their parents, who were gazing at Eric far too much like they knew exactly what his familiar was getting at.
Eric chuckled. “Yeah, okay, let’s head to the nicer side of the tracks.”
Marsha flashed a wan smile. “If only the trains were running again. Could you imagine what life would be like if we didn’t have to talk everywhere? If it was actually safe to travel outside of a week long caravan to Philadelphia where you needed to bring your own food and supplies and you better have a useful trade or skill and be prepared to fend off wild animals and twisted abominations that is still so, so much safer than daring to journey even a handful of miles inland?”
Eric blinked at the description. “Sounds like you’ve been considering doing just that,” he said, while gently ushering the family on a fresh levitating bone and sinew disk he covered with a rug to make it a tiny bit less scary, though he couldn’t help but give Marsha a wink.
“And I couldn’t agree more.”
She looked at him confused as they began to gently rise in the air, distant flashes of blaster fire flaring brilliantly in the dimming light, the air filled with distant crashes and mournful howls. “You think we should take the caravan to Philadelphia?” She sighed. “If only we could save a single silver eagle… if only we had any coin at all. Even a couple copper to buy fresh food that didn’t risk the wrath of all the orcs now gathering outside the city.”
Eric’s smile became strained. He closed his eyes, zoomed out, and clenched his jaw as the area outside the now walled New York flared a brilliant crimson with the presence of thousands upon thousand of orcs, assembled on the opposite side of the city from which he had originally entered.
“No… I’m thinking about trains. New York had the advantage of trains and trolleys making commutes through the city quick and affordable for well over a hundred years. And the cargo and passenger trains that connected New York with the growing continent helped transform the entire nation and was definitely a key factor in New York blossoming into becoming one of the wealthiest cities in the world… at least for a time.”
Eric sighed, mind racing with all the wonders that could have been. “Though I appreciate the heads up on the orcs. I’ve been too focused on other things to appreciate what you’re all now forced to deal with. Definitely something I’ll have to take care of before I’m done here.”
Marsha and George blinked at this as they quietly floated above the broken ruins of the city near the warehouse district, quickly passing into a nicer region of the city where the buildings were at least somewhat intact, 19th century brownstone townhouses far more common than the ruins of office buildings, Eric even spying what looked like community patrols and a couple of parks that had been transformed to lush, fertile gardens that Eric was certain had been blessed by at least one professional with a green thumb or similar talent.
“Ooh, look, Mother!” Macy squealed. “Were floating over Brownhaven! Angelique says its where all the posh people and the professionals and System Crafters live!”
Marsha’s soft brown eyes, so like her mother’s, gazed longingly at the brownstone townhouses and crop-filled parks below. “Can we live down there, mommy? And become farmers? I’ll bet farmers never have to worry about getting eaten by wolves or shot… and they can go to sleep with full bellies every night!”
“The orcs. You plan on… taking care of them?” Marsha asked, a touch of awe on her pinched features as she held her youngest close, stroking her hair until her eyes closed.
Eric flashed a fierce smile at that. “You’re damn right I do. Just as soon as I take care of a certain pack of angry mutts and the asshole happy to shoot up his own people.”
George visibly flinched.
“You’re speaking of… Lord Song,” Marsha whispered softly, no matter they were floating above the city upon a silent platform invisible to most who might be gazing at the darkening sky streaked with clouds blazing with crimson fire, kissed by the final rays of the setting sun.
Eric’s smile denied nothing. “I am.”
“So… what’s you’re plan? Take on that monster with his high tech Nova Wars soldiers and just, what, kill them all and claim New York for yourself?”
Eric shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah. I mean it’s a little bit more complicated than that. Some mystic keys are involved… but that’s the heart of it, yes.”
George cursed softly under his breath. “Shit. You do realize that he has an army full of orcs and dozens of cannons at his disposal?”
Eric nodded. “24-pounder siege cannons. Great for bombarding tightly packed army regiments and defending a city. Kinda tough to spin on a dime and tag Contenders with a Quickness as high as mine.”
Bunbun blinked. “Ooh, I like that! Nice and rhymy.”
Eric scratched Lilly’s soft fur. “You know it, buddy.”
Lilly’s ears perked up. “There it is, boss!” She pointed to a steepled church faced with marble and ivory, graced with beautiful stained glass windows giving an air of warmth, welcome, and mystery.
Eric gave his familiar a curious look, though didn’t hesitate to slowly lower his disk to settle in the grassy yard of the church, completely undisturbed despite the upheaval in the city proper, this area of town houses and miniature farms notwithstanding.
He knew better than to ask too many questions and risk the aura of comfort and assurance he wanted to grant to traumatized family, switching to party chat.
“This church?”
“System purchased and upgraded by a classer, same as all the buildings that seem to be in pristine condition that weren’t built of brownstone and such. We saw a couple near the entrance gate, remember?”
“Interesting. So why a church?”
“I think Grim’s faction is trying to network and make friends wherever they can, this time around. So that by the time things settle down, people are more likely to burn corrupt bureaucrats than helpful witches and the like. Anyway, the locals here are friends with the pastor and bishop and they hold weekly mass and everything! So it’s like, um, real. And the people supply them food and they help shelter survivors caught up in the madness… so long as they know to come to them and ooh… I think someone is approaching us even now.”
A curly haired man of indeterminate age wearing simple woolen robes rapidly approached, seeming not at all put off by the floating disk or the exotic armaments worn by its owner, for all that Eric had deliberately done his utmost to keep his potent aura in tight check.
“Ah, I see we have visitors! Welcome to the Church of Solace. You may refer to me as Scholar Armond. Would you like a tour?”
Eric blinked at this, not having expected quite this reception. George and Karen looked at a complete loss for words.
“Ooh, you’re not a priest?” Marsha asked, earning an anxious hush from her sister.
“Behave. We’re guests!” Macy hissed.
Surprisingly, Armond waved off the concern.
“An excellent question, dear one. No, I have never been ordained, though I have been a religious scholar for many years, among many other pursuits. I have done my best to make myself useful around the church, as have my scholarly brothers and sisters, so we have been made welcome, much as lay people once served the church with distinction, centuries ago.”
It was then that Bunbun chose to speak, an oddly formal cadence to her tone. “Friend of the faith and the scholarly pursuits, a master of the ancient path seeks shelter and refuge for those in need.”
Armond stiffened only momentarily at those words, gazing at Bunbun for long moments. His eyes held not a wick of dismay or revulsion. Rather, it was with profound respect that he bowed his head. “This one, like priest and bishop within, is always honored to help those in need.”
Eric couldn’t help but smile at that, discretely handing the man a leather pouch filled with silver.
“Then please allow us the honor of helping a worthy cause in turn.”
Armond’s eyes widened. “There is no need, of course!”
Eric winked. “Of course.”
Armond cleared his throat, making the leather pouch containing just a tiny fraction of the wealth that Eric had claimed from elite Bronze-Tier kills, effortlessly organized and sequestered in his ES space, disappear.
“But of course, with times being what they are, we are grateful for any contribution to our humble church.”
“Then I am honored to contribute.” Eric held the man’s gentle gaze for long seconds.
Armond paled.
“I place these four precious lives into your care, Armond,” he said, gazing fondly at the imposing church steeple that seemed to kiss the starry night sky overhead. “This fine establishment has come well recommended by some very important friends of exceedingly distinguished rank. I look forward to a long and mutually beneficial relationship with an organization so devoted to both the preservation of knowledge… and coming to the aid of sheep led astray by beings who should never have been given passage into our fragile, humble realm.”
The man gulped, quickly bowing his head. “You will have no cause to regret your patronage. I swear it.”
Eric dipped his head, all smiles once more. “Wonderful. Perhaps I will visit the bishop and pay my respects… another day. Sundays are best, correct?”
Armond quickly nodded. “After mass. He is always available to patrons and prospective patrons.”
“Wonderful.” Eric turned, gently smiling at a now trembling Karen, gazing at him as she held her children with an odd mixture of hope, wonder, and fear.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Karen,” he declared, placing into her trembling hands a pouch very similar to the one he had handed Armond. “I hope that for you and yours, the worst has finally passed, and that you can look forward to a safer, happier future in the days and years to come.”
“Thank you!” She said, voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks. “But why… why are you doing this for us?”
Eric flashed a sad smile, taking in the entire family and a respectfully silent Armond.
“Because there’s an entire city filled with tragedy and horror and I can do so damned little to change any of it. Not without washing this city in blood. But at least I could make a difference for you. Maybe help shelter you all from the storm that’s about to hit damned hard and wash so much bullshit away. I can only pray that everyone lives to see the beautiful dawn to come.”
Those words caused her and George to flinch, Armond now looking pale as a sheet, while Macy gazed at him with an unexpected fire in her eyes.
“Are you really going to kill him? The asshole who took over our city!?”
Karen gasped. George lowered his gaze, holding his family close as Armond crossed himself.
Eric grinned, knowing exactly what the teenager meant. “Damn right I am. Him and all his tin soldiers.” He cracked his neck. “Just as soon as I take care of a certain big bad wolf.”
Armond’s eye widened. “So you know.”
“Know what?”
“About the rumors. The disappearances and the savaged bodies.”
Eric’s lips pressed together in consternation. “No. I didn’t. But I do now. Thank you.”
Armond sighed, gazing at Eric with odd sympathy. “I recognized the fire in your eyes. Contender, no?”
Eric humored him with a smile, dipping his head. “Correct.”
“Please be careful, lad. Your heart blazes with virtue and passion. Even a mortal can sense that much. But until you can handle the beasts of nightmare and ancient history within the neighboring regions, you have no chance at all against the hideously fast and deadly battlemechs that Lord Song has made his own.”
Eric chuckled. “I’ll keep that under advisement. Thank you, Armond.” Then, with a final farewell wave, Eric put away his disk and strode back toward the heart of the city—where his interface showed multiple reds flaring brightly—only picking up speed after being well out of sight, ears ringing with Armond and Karen’s final words.
“You’ve made a powerful friend. Let’s just hope he survives the night. Come. Let me show you what the Church of Solace offers, and we can discuss what the future holds over dinner.”
“Thank you for taking us in. We are truly grateful.”
“Not at all. This, ultimately, is what we are here for. To shelter humanity and her secrets from those eager to see us bereft of all knowledge and hope. Now come. The hour grows late, and we are safest with doors sealed and wards active.”
