Eric glared at the sobbing contender holding on to life by a thread and Eric's mastery over blood.

  “Alright, quit crying! Just tell me where my friends are!”

  “The cluster of half ruined warehouses by the pier. I’ll ping it on your interface map.”

  Eric blanched, horrified to find that this other man actually had the power to bypass all his defenses and place a marker on his own internal map!

  What the fuck were 500+ defenses for? That was utter BULLSHIT!

  Eric clenched his fists. “How the fuck did you—”

  “No time!” Jim wheezed. “Look, the point is, it’s a trap! Okay? Our gang’s all tied up on massive steel girders in the middle of the centralmost ruined warehouse. They’re all in a cheap-ass metal cage to make it look convincing, but it’s just a kill zone.” The man swallowed anxiously. “There looking for you, Eric. I think… I think Lord Song has a beef with you?”

  Natasha gasped behind him.

  Eric’s blood ran cold. He swallowed his parched throat as his heart roared. A part of him wanted to lash out but… no. Even if he had some pretty dark fucking suspicions, Jim was telling him of his own volition. Present Jim was sticking his neck out and risking obliviation...and that’s what mattered. Not past Jim’s fucked up anger issues.

  So many damned questions...and Eric sensed he was rapidly running out of time.

  “What else can you tell me?”

  Jim bit his lip, nodding, as if knowing what was coming… and glad Eric wasn’t cutting him off. Permanently.

  “Good. Alright. It’s a kill box. A bunch of Bronze Tier mercenaries are guarding it. Offworld mecha warrior types. With plasma guns of some sort. And… Eric, I’m not the only Contender.”

  The man blanched, as if he had just said too much… but Eric just nodded.

  “Got it. Opposing Contender. Mark III Plasma Blasters. You have any info on the other Contender?”

  Jim paled. “I think she’s very good with Shadows. I’d be very careful. And Eric, that’s not all. The whole thing’s at trap.”

  Eric smirked. “Figured.”

  “I think, but I’m not sure… but I think… your friends are all wired to explode.”

  Eric blinked, his jaw clenching. Somehow, he seriously doubted that Song, now stuck here on Earth, if his understanding about the backdoors that a certain pair of Inquisitors had slam in their faces was correct, was going to be playing with a starship core. Which left only one option that he could think of.

  “Black powder ball bearing bomb?”

  Jim swallowed, then nodded. “I think… yeah. I think so. And Eric? It’s big.”

  “How big?”

  “The massive pile of broken industrial equipment just behind the cage? That’s the bomb. If you somehow get through… if the mercs can’t immediately take you out… their orders are to retreat then ignite the bomb from a distance.” He flashed a bleak smile. “You’ll have maybe thirty seconds from the second plasma fire stops, because the mercs want to get clear enough not to be chewed up by shrapnel that will take out about four city blocks in all directions.”

  Eric nodded. “Half a dozen Bronze-tier mercs in power armor trying to bring me down, with at least one Contender. If I somehow survive that gauntlet and make all the way to my friends… plasma fire stops, and they flee and trigger the bomb.”

  Jim frowned. “Actually, I don’t know. Now that I think about it, maybe they’ll put a blaster to Alice’s head? I think… I think they want to capture you… at least until one of the Contenders can Highlander your ass.”

  Eric flashed a bleak smile, gently patting the man’s shoulders. “Thanks, Jim. That actually helps. A lot. Anything else I should know?”

  Jim’s eyes widened, able to sense the crimson aura as brightly as Eric. “Yes. Sanctuary. Please.”

  Intent eyes met his own.

  Fuck.

  Jim wasn’t stupid. He knew that Eric knew. And he knew he was probably a dead man.

  Eric sighed. Turning around to see Natasha’s furious gaze.

  He spoke quietly and calmly to his lover.

  “He gave me the intel I need. He didn’t have to do shit. If that doesn’t mean something… then karmically, no one owes us a good turn ever again, because we will have burned all redemption arcs.”

  Natasha’s eyes flashed, the very air seeming to bleed.

  Jim whimpered.

  “Eric!”

  “I know,” he said, suddenly finding himself holding the trembling succubus close, protectively wrapping his arms around her. “They’re my friends. Some of my closest friends. I’ll get them out. I promise.”

  “They’re my babies!”

  “I know.”

  She squeezed him so tightly it almost made him breathless. “Please, Eric. I would go with you…” She flashed a bitter smile. “But I’m not even permitted to leave! None of us Silvers that thought ourselves so clever before the world warped around us all, caging us with it’s ascension. Only Mord can travel the various realities of this city because he’s also a Contender, even if a late-generation one with only a fraction of the power of an original of his world. Yet not even he can escape its pull entirely.” She flashed a bitter smile. “Yet your mother, a High Silver, so many scores of levels beyond us that it’s like comparing low level basic Conscripts to elite White-tier Contenders… slipped free effortlessly. As she always does.”

  Eric smiled sadly at those words. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. I doubt this reality’s grip was ever that strong on her. And you’re one of the few who even remember.”

  Natasha gasped, eyes widening. But of course there was no time to waste. Instead, there was only the comforting presence of Grim, manifesting right behind Eric as he turned around, Bunbun on his shoulder, the lich now dressed in top hat and frock coat once more, his cane tapping the ground.

  He flashed a dazzling smile, ever the perfect Moorish gentleman. “Shall we, Eric? I do believe I have some wayward descendants to save.”

  Eric dipped his head. “Let’s.” He gave a farewell bow to Natasha. “I do hope you treat your former employee, who didn’t have to do shit but whimper and play dumb when our kin left this earth… well.” He gave the man a final measuring look. “He has permission to reforge himself in Ashland. I’ll make sure that the right parties know.”

  “Please save my children, Eric.”

  “You know I will.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  With that, the two began their journey out of the courtyard. A mist began to permeate the air, the sound of a nearby babbling brook gracing their ears as the cobblestone path became a dirt road, the nearby manors no longer visible past the lush topiary and gardens that soon became a thick forest, Eric understanding at once what had happened.

  “Where are we now?”

  “The land of wolves, of course.”

  Eric flashed a bleak smile, hand on the hilt of his dachi. “Good.”

  “That’s not our objective.”

  “I know.”

  Grim chuckled. “I’m glad to have you by my side, Eric.”

  Eric couldn’t help smiling despite his tension. “Me too. So. Plan?”

  Grim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I do believe New York proper will find itself overcome by a sudden fog. One that’s not at all conducive to exothermics forged from the souls of the innocent.”

  Eric’s jaw clenched. “I had always suspected the orc powder was tainted. Those fuckers.”

  “Indeed. What’s done is done, of course. Use every tool in your arsenal. But I suspect that any orc musketeers, or those who rely on cannons or worse, will find that things rarely go according to plan.”

  Eric dipped his head as the distant howls of wolves faded as the pair of them slipped through the forest to a circle of massive stones that became a brownstone alleyway and then they were in New York proper once more. “And I have a spell that will be perfect for discouraging sparks to take hold. Between our arts, the largest threat will hopefully not be a problem. Or at least be neutralized long enough for us to get the fuck out of dodge.”

  Grim sighed. “Unless a talented Contender, magus, or witch has the lore and skills to diffuse both our arts.”

  The huntress now beside Grim chuckled softly. “And that’s why I believe in redundancies. We’ll approach that explosive problem from two very different angles and disciplines. The odds of any particular asshole being able to counter both?”

  “Miniscule,” Grim assured. “If we’re lucky.”

  Valoria inhaled air smelling of rotting garbage, fried rat, and woodsmoke. She flashed a bright smile. “We’re back,” she said, smirking at the look this earned from the top-hatted gentleman towering over her.

  “Impressive disguise,” Grim said. “My arts reveal it as your true form.”

  The huntress smirked. “Good thing I can get into method acting, at least a little bit. The only type of acting I’m not complete shit at. Besides, Elonia taught me how to move years ago, for one of our shared parts. And with a Finesse of over one thousand… well, it helps make up for my Acting skill of only six.”

  “Which is actually extremely high when compared to mortals, where Rank 4 is considered a well seasoned professional!” Bunbun happily noted.

  Valoria snorted. “Not the way my Interface puts it. But as long as I can fool them just long enough… who cares?”

  Grim nodded. “My fog is now set. Your plan?”

  The huntress flashed a smile as fierce and hungry as her mother’s had ever been. “I scout the area, shout out a runic chant that fizzles out any torches among other things… with a voice that sounds nothing at all like Eric, and then I present myself for employment.”

  Bunbun nodded. “And while she does that, I get to show my master just how good I’ve gotten with the crimson arts!” Eric’s familiar said, a tiny ball of blood forming in her furry paw as she spoke.”

  “Impressive!” Grin allowed.

  Bunbun beamed.

  Valoria scowled. “Bunbun… if they’re wearing what I wore when I was first caught by slavers…”

  “I know!” Lilly scowled. “Trust me, Fearless Leader. I’ve studied a lot of your memories in my dreams. Learned a lot of lessons. I won’t let you down.”

  The huntress kissed the top of her rabbit’s head. “I know you won’t.”

  Grim gave a thoughtful nod. “Your familiar has become an apprentice of the Crimson Arts, and intends to apply it to skulduggery? Fascinating. That might work quite splendidly if the situation is as bad as we fear.”

  “Agreed. I don’t suppose you can generate a nearby portal or the like that our friends can slip through?”

  “Effortlessly, of course. But it will have to be a short distance away from the warehouse. For I do sense a Witch’s presence. Many witches. And if any are aligned with our foes…”

  “I understand. Summoning a portal that a Witch or another classer or what are they called… Enigmatics here might detect? Damn suspicious if it’s right where they’re holding captives and much less so if it’s a block away.”

  “With luck, they won’t sense anything at all beyond whatever wards they might have set up.”

  The huntress felt a weight lift off her chest at those words. “Good. Now we have a plan.” She cracked her neck then checked out her interface map, which she was still a bit alarmed that Jim had pinged so effortlessly, making the location obvious. “Alright… and because it’s obvious as shit that Jim was setting us up for a hard fall before having a change of heart when we saved his sorry ass… I can’t 100% trust that he’s not playing us still. So I’ll do reconnaissance.”

  Grim smiled as the air filled with the sound of chittering rats. The huntress blinked, lips curving in a saucy grin when she heard the hoots of not dozens but hundreds of pigeons.

  “Awesome,” Valoria said, not hesitating to claim the bone ear clamp the lich handed him.

  “Place on you earlobe… excellent. You should be able to hear my voice resonate with your skull.”

  Valoria frowned. “My skull’s pretty solid but… yes. Yup, I got your signal, Grim.”

  “Good. The rats and pigeons will keep an eye on those covered in metal or radiating death in the warehouse that I sense you already know. The mist will increase much like normal fog… and I will have a portal...right… there.

  The huntress blinked. “You can access my Interface Map too?”

  “Of course. You accepted my bone token. That implies consent.”

  Valoria smirked. “Sure. Why not? Okay, I see it will be two blocks away from our target.”

  Grim nodded. “The ether is extremely turbulent beside the warehouse. I can sense that even from here. And we need the portal to be both discrete… and stable.”

  The huntress winced. “Yeah… good call. None of us need to be spaghettified.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I’ll go on ahead if you wish to ensconce yourself somewhere discrete.”

  “That would be best for this part of the operation.” Grim gave her a curious look. “Though as for your revenants...”

  The huntress shook her head. “That’s a no go. If I walk that path, I risk triggering the Bitter Fruits victory when all the pocket realms collapse upon themselves with the weight of my own, well…”

  “Demon killing army?”

  Valoria flashed a bitter smile. “Yeah, that bastard was a real charmer. Glad he’s dead. Talk to you later, Grim.”

  “Later, Grim!” Snarked bun, rubbing her paws. “Now for the exciting part!”

  Valoria chuckled, gazing fondly at her familiar as she began jogging to her destination. “So I wanted to ask… Where were you last night? I didn’t see you until you showed up this morning on Grim’s shoulder. Very classy look, by the way.”

  Bun grinned. “Yup, that lich radiates class. Good hangout buddy. I even got to show him my new game.”

  “What game?”

  “While you were busy enjoying happy times… I was busy playing Exile’s Path II!”

  The huntress blinked. “Wait, how? That never happened. The world ended before they could—”

  She stiffened her ears that crackled and vibrated and suddenly she could see the ghostly image of a computer screen with one of the coolest games on the planet.

  “No. Fucking. Way.”

  Bun nodded. “Yup! Not sure if it’s an alternate reality or just my own mindscape, but now whenever I meditate, I can play as much as I want. Even Grim thought it was cool! Though he couldn’t play. I need to level before I can warp reality that much.”

  Her gaze turned crestfallen as Valoria’s casual run turned to an all out sprint. “Problem is, that as sweet as the character builds are, and as fun as it is to mow down the mobs, Exile’s Path I style… the bosses are no fucking joke. I keep wiping out on the Dread Souls-style assholes! It’s bullshit!” She tilted her head. “Fun, but kinda hard when you just have two hands that wanna be paws. WASD is not my kink, I still get caught in the red circles when I dodge-roll, and point and click ain’t cutting it with those bad boys.”

  Valoria chuckled. “Sounds rough. You gotta get gud, Bun. And since it’s your dream, or multidimensional interface… I’ll trust you to level up those skills the old fashioned way.”

  “But helping you take out Bronze-Tier badboys and putting points into my gaming skill?”

  “Exactly!”

  “That’s the plan… and look, isn’t that the series of warehouses radiating certain death, explosive absolution and multiple elite kills ahead?”

  Valoria slowed down her run, dipping her head. “I think so, yeah.” She traded looks with her familiar. “You ready?”

  Bunbun saluted an ear. “Let’s do this!”