Marlon was the eye of a raging tempest.

  Terry could only anchor himself and watch as the Traveler controlled space like a conductor at an orchestra. His spatial loop on the front of the hill was cut from his grasp, then suddenly shifted on its head. Instead of the hundreds of werewolves, berserkers, and centaurs forced back to the bottom of the hill, they instead were suddenly transported into the sky.

  The loop was released a moment later and the air filled with screams as every single monster began their violent descent to the ground below.

  As that happened, Marlon somehow split his attention, slicing space directly through the stone golems he had sent flying into the air. Their rock bodies and C-ranked auras did nothing to slow Marlon’s power. Terry watched as they turned from golems into piles of rocks. They still cascaded toward the ground where Isa and Julio were struggling to their feet.

  Terry began to reach out and intercept the rocks, when he felt Marlon open a series of portals beneath the stone hail. He traced the exit path with his senses, even as the portals opened perpendicular to the still-falling monsters at the front of the gate.

  A storm of stones ripped through the helpless group, pounding their bodies with multiple tons of rock. Even still, dozens of the monsters survived to hit the dirt, their high-D physiques somehow pulling them through a multiple-hundred foot drop.

  As the survivors slowly rose to their feet, space parted once more, three of the massive boulders at the bottom of the hill shifting through portals with ease. There was no time to evade as they materialized over the centaurs, werewolves, and humans.

  The entire hill shuddered from the impact, the triple-thud echoing for multiple seconds.

  When the dust settled, no one moved, except for Marlon as he descended from his spatial stairway. With a groan, his wicker chair appeared as he settled his bulk back.

  “What in the name of Mother Mary was that!” Julio cried out.

  Marlon grunted, casting the boy a scowl. “Thought you didn’t speak English?”

  Julio stood open-mouthed in shock, then noted Isa groaning on the ground. Terry spotted her at the same time, portaling down to check on her.

  Her face was swelling quickly, but in a strange juxtaposition, her body began to shrink. As her proportions returned to normal, her groans intensified.

  Before Terry could check on her, the System notifications rolled in.

  Congratulations on completing this rift’s Main Objective. Time to complete: 27 minutes

  Calculating Individual Reward…

  Aura Projection: C5 → C6

  Aura Control: C9

  Aura Perception: C6 → C7

  Presence Average: C7

  Calculating Skill Deficiencies…

  No Deficiencies identified…

  Bonus Objective offered…

  Finish the rest of the rift by completing five more waves of increasing strength.

  Reward: User specific Skill and access to the competing world.

  Reject the Bonus Objective to close this rift permanently. Should you finish the Bonus Objective, your team will have the option to close the rift permanently.

  His heart skipped a beat as he read the Bonus Objective offer. But another notification streamed into view.

  A vote has been started to permanently close the rift leading to the Kimrean world. Vote to close the rift or keep it open for further rewards. The vote must be unanimous to close the rift.

  Marlon has voted to close the rift.

  Terry mentally voted, his eyes turning to the others to gauge their reactions. Judging by Isa’s condition, it seemed unlikely she would spoil the vote. Julio’s golem skin had sunk back into the earth and he looked fine to the eye, but Terry could tell his aura was strained.

  Juan climbed down from his tower, a concerned look on his face as he came over to Isa.

  Juan has voted to close the rift.

  Julio has voted to close the rift.

  Terry let out a sigh of relief. For some reason, he had been concerned one of the others might get greedy, the way Tajo had been. He cast his vote, pleased to see Isa’s come in a moment later.

  Terry has voted to close the rift.

  Isa has voted to close the rift.

  “She needs a healer!” Julio called, looking between them. “Her eyes are completely swelled shut!”

  Almost as if in answer to his plea, a portal cut through the center of the camp.

  Rift will close in 45 seconds…

  “Come on, let’s move her!” Juan said, reaching under her arm.

  Isa cried out in pain, her voice raw. “No, no, no! Mi brazo! Mi brazo!”

  Juan cast Terry a pleading look. He knew immediately what his friend was asking and nodded. With a thought, telekinesis picked her up, cradling her body so that nothing shifted unnecessarily.

  As he ferried her toward the portal, he noticed Marlon’s scowl and frowned at the man.

  “What?” he asked a bit testily.

  He rolled his eyes at Terry’s tone. “She woulda lived. No reason to reveal your powers.”

  Terry growled, ignoring the man as he moved toward the rift portal with Isa in his aura grip. Juan came to his side, giving him a quick nod, which smoothed some of his anger.

  Julio limped behind them, Marlon taking up the rear.

  When they came through the other side, the rift field outside Mexico City was practically tame in comparison to before. Dozens of people still milled about, but many of them were standing beside active rifts—presumably to prevent others from entering an ongoing rift clear or to watch for exiting injured.

  Or contain invaders that breached into Earth…

  The thought scared Terry, but he was pulled from his thoughts by Ellie rushing over.

  “Give her to me,” the girl demanded, already putting her hands on Isa.

  Julio cast Terry a concerned look, but he nodded to reassure the boy. “She’s a healer, it’ll be okay.”

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  “Why wasn’t she with us?” Juan asked at his side. “She feels like a C-ranker.”

  Terry hesitated at that, wondering how much to reveal. He cast a look toward Ellie, but the girl had her eyes closed in concentration.

  “My mother banned her from entering any rifts,” he finally admitted.

  Julio gasped. “The White Rose? Por qué?”

  “Should she be touching Isa?” Juan added, leaning in to whisper.

  Terry sighed. “Let’s just say, there were some questions about her loyalties.” He cut across Julio’s forming protest. “But I trust her to heal Isa. She wouldn’t try anything—my mother’s watching her.”

  Julio seemed like he wanted to say more, but a voice interrupted them.

  “Your team needs to move!” Terry turned to see Brisa zooming toward them on a gust of wind. “We don’t have much time before the rifts open to the other side!”

  “We’re down a tank,” Terry explained with a nod toward Isa.

  “We can handle it,” Marlon said with a grunt. “Just point us to the next one.”

  Juan gave Terry a skeptical look, but Julio spoke before either of them.

  “I’m done, too.” The boy sounded upset by the admission. “My aura is drained. I couldn’t shift a boulder.”

  Marlon sniffed in annoyance, but Brisa nodded in understanding. “We have a backup damage dealer. His team were all injured, but he’s in fighting condition.” She cast Isa a sad sigh before turning toward Marlon. “I don’t have anymore tanks ready, though.”

  The Traveler waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve got it.”

  Brisa hesitated, clearly skeptical, but froze as her eyes went unfocused. A moment later, they widened before turning to Marlon. “The White Rose has cleared your group. She says you can handle any C-grade rift.” She turned her gaze to encompass Terry at that, a hint of surprise there.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Marlon hurried Brisa with a gesture. “Time’s a wasting—where to?”

  Brisa frowned at the man’s tone, indicating a nearby rift with a point. “That one—”

  She cut off as Marlon opened a portal, appearing a hundred feet away a moment later. He turned back, throwing up his hands in annoyance when Terry and Juan didn’t immediately follow.

  “He’s…something,” Juan muttered to Terry.

  Terry snorted. “That’s an understatement.” He cast one more look down at Isa and Ellie. “Will she be okay?”

  Ellie answered without opening her eyes. “She’ll be fine, Terry. I’m reducing the swelling in her brain now.” She looked up, her eyes finding his. “Go. I’ve got this.”

  He nodded in thanks, then stepped through Marlon’s portal.

  “Bout time!” the man grunted. “Should I send a message to the other side, ask them to hold off on invading our world while you chat with your girlfriend?”

  Terry rolled his eyes, ignoring the man as he looked around for their new team member. When his gaze locked on Tajo, he had to suppress a groan. The Duelist noticed him at the same time, a wry smile filling his face.

  “Rosito!” he called, jogging over. “Good to see you, hermano!”

  “You two know each other?” Juan asked in surprise.

  Terry nodded, shaking Tajo’s hand. “We did a rift together earlier today—” He cut off as Marlon huffed and entered the rift, leaving the three of them behind.

  Tajo raised his eyebrows at that, then shrugged. “ándale, Rosito.”

  The three of them rushed into the rift, space shifting about them.

  Ellie’s aura circled the young girl’s brain, not doing much other than preventing further trauma. She didn’t want to give her brain damage, but she also didn’t want to risk the chance that she’d return to the fight.

  She eyed the rift Terry had entered, her gut shifting uncomfortably.

  This was it, wasn’t it…

  A part of her longed to abandon her mother’s plan. It was nice here, among the Protectorate. It was nice having friends. She hadn’t truly deluded herself into thinking Tania and Terry were her friends, but the make-believe was almost as good as the real thing.

  She had thought she would remain cold, true to her purpose like a nocked arrow pointed at the target. But so many thoughts had begun to percolate, surprising her. She wasn’t used to her feelings taking charge—she directed them, not the other way around.

  Which was why it had been simple to get past the Rose. Not painless, but simple. Of course, there were the technical tricks she employed—convincing the Rose she needed a mantra to block out surface thoughts, being one of those tricks; she had learned as a child how to guard her thoughts. That was a necessity when your mother was a powerful Hypnotist.

  Terry hadn’t learned that lesson yet, but he was young, naive. Still a child, despite what he might think.

  And thank the Septarch for that. His naivety had been the crux of her plan. Once she’d gotten his measure in the escort rift, she knew she could play on his empathy.

  The moment the Rose had begun her mental invasion, she’d cried out in pain, forcing the trembles into her limbs, the tight squeeze of her eyes. It had hurt, of course, but pain, like thoughts, could be managed.

  And Terry had played his part beautifully, emotionally manipulating his own mother into letting a known enemy roam free. She regretted the necessity, but there was more at stake here than a boy’s relationship with his mom.

  The time to act was approaching, and anyone else might have let their nervousness take hold—a shining beacon to the world’s most powerful Hypnotist that something was afoot.

  But Ellie wasn’t just anyone. She was the best of her generation, the one chosen by her mother for this task. Perhaps the most important thing anyone on her world had done…ever.

  Her senses sparked, one of the A-grade rifts nearby suddenly growing heavier, the spatial compact denser.

  It was only a matter of time before one of the undermanned A-ranked raids failed and were forced to retreat. Otherworlders would stream through, heralding chaos.

  And that was when she would move.

  Penelope was forced to admit that perhaps she had been wrong about the girl. Even from hundreds of meters away, she had carefully examined every casual thought that entered and left Ellie’s head for nearly fourteen hours. She no longer repeated her mantra over and over again, her mind too weary to maintain the bulwark. Yet, there were no slip ups, not even an inkling of subterfuge or ill intent.

  It was simply the mindless nattering of a fifteen-year-old girl.

  My head hurts.

  Terry’s kind of cute, isn’t he?

  I wonder how close he and Tania are—oh, they’re kissing. That’s disappointing.

  She’s a little fireplug, isn’t she?

  On and on her thoughts churned, interspersed with extended moments of silence as she worked through another mental spasm brought on from Penelope’s invasion attempt. She hadn’t managed to dive deep enough to confirm it, but she had a suspicion that the psyche cipher on the girl’s mind was designed to kill her if it was broken. Perhaps she could have prevented the kill-switch, but she was glad all the same that she hadn’t pushed.

  The thought of accidentally killing Terry’s friend right in front of his eyes sent a cold shiver down her back. She knew her son, knew it wouldn’t have mattered that she was a mole sent to infiltrate their camp—infiltrate his inner circle.

  He would have held Ellie’s death against her for a long, long time.

  But that was a burden she was willing to bear if push came to shove. No matter how much she yearned to repair their relationship, she had to put the Protectorate and North America first.

  So she continued her observation of the girl, focusing on those silly teenage thoughts, even as the Mental Singularity pulsed throughout the camp, cataloging and filtering a thousand other thoughts.

  But even with the tension of a known mole in the camp, the majority of her anxiety was centered on the A-grade rifts floating above the field. It was the same problem they’d had over San Francisco—there just weren’t enough A-rankers to field full teams. Five rifts had formed with the rift break, each requiring forty supers to reach capacity.

  The Protectorate and the Alianza didn’t have two-hundred A-rankers ready to fight—and certainly not in any sort of appropriate composition. At least, not without draining the entire continent of talent, leaving its borders and cities unprotected from villains and insurgents.

  It was a delicate balance and one she wasn’t sure they were managing well. In a perfect world, the coalitions of Earth agreed on a non-aggression treaty while six hostile worlds invaded their own.

  But Earth was far from perfect and she had already received reports of saboteurs from across the oceans wrecking havoc on Protectorate cities. They had been forced to form quick response teams to deal with internal threats—Terraform and Marlon leading one such team.

  She had cannibalized that group, instead placing Marlon at Terry’s side. There wasn’t a C-ranker in the Protectorate more powerful, of that she was certain. She could at least rest easy knowing Terry wouldn’t be struck down inside a rift.

  Outside…well, that responsibility fell on her.

  The Mental Singularity pinged at her mind and her skin went cold. Someone had come back from A-3 and Penelope could already sense their mind in turmoil.

  I almost died! I almost died! Oh, God, they were so strong! We can’t win…we can’t win…

  The thoughts spiraled into despair and she reached out with her aura, gripping that A-ranker’s mind.

  “Errol, we’re moving!”

  Even as she forcibly calmed the A-ranker, she implanted the coordinates in Errol’s mind, passing through his portal a moment later. She arrived outside A-3, spotting the woman sitting on the grass, her eyes wide.

  She remembered this A-ranker from her personnel sheet. Eliza Downing, aka Lightning Liza, A-ranked Lightning Elementalist, average Presence Attributes: A3.

  “Eliza,” she said softly, her aura smoothing the woman’s down wherever it threatened to flare. “What happened?”

  The woman’s hair was matted in blood, wet strands trailing in front of her face. When she looked up, her eyes were plain brown, not a speck of magic present; she was completely drained.

  “Too many,” she whispered. Her eyes grew wider and she gasped as she recognized Penelope. “White Rose! I’m so sorry, I-I—”

  “Shhh,” she said softly. As she reached out a calming hand, her aura also reached out, delving past the woman’s inert defenses.

  Images flashed in her mind, their team of thirty-two A-rankers in the midst of a harrowing battle against towering demonic creatures. One of their tanks went down from a brutal strike, killing MetalStorm before their healers could even blink.

  From there, the raid began to collapse. A damage dealer was cut in half. Then a healer. Then another.

  A four-legged demon the size of a horse charged at Eliza. The woman overreacted, bringing down dozens of lightning strikes in a single blink, resulting in massive overkill. She lived, but had drained her aura in the attack.

  When she looked around and saw another tank go down, she had fled back to the rift entrance.

  Penelope retreated from the woman’s mind, broadcasting her thoughts across the camp to Hector.

  We have rift failure—it’s an A-grade.

  The reply came back immediately: I’m on my way!

  A sharp cry echoed through the air a quarter-mile away, but Penelope already had her full attention on the rift. It was only a matter of time before the Otherworlders had their chance to clear the rift.

  And when they did, they’d inevitably push through to Earth.

  A dozen Protectorate and Alianza A-rankers streamed back through the rift over the next ten minutes, bloodied and battered. Most of them couldn’t meet her eyes, the shame and fear gripping them tight.

  They had always known failure was a possibility—it had happened multiple times in San Francisco, Atlanta, and elsewhere. But no one ever thought it would be their delve that failed.

  It was forty-five more minutes before she felt the rift shift. At her side, Hector and the other assembled S-rankers braced. She had called in three more from the Protectorate—including Terraform, her father, and Terrence—while the Alianza had brought three more of their own.

  Their number stood at eight S-rankers, along with the A- and B-rankers who had managed to clear their rifts successfully.

  It would be more than enough to turn back the invading A-rankers. But would it be enough to do so without casualties? She might have thought so before, but Atlanta had taught her otherwise.

  These Otherworlders couldn’t be measured on the same scale as Earth’s supers. To a person, they were more powerful, more experienced. They had decades, perhaps centuries, of experience over Earth, and it showed in their fights.

  But Penelope had digested Singularities, her father the same. They might be out-finessed by their enemies, but they wouldn’t be outclassed.

  The moment the first wave of enemy A-rankers burst free from the rift, she turned her full powers on disrupting their auras and invading their minds.

  In her distraction, she didn’t notice it immediately. It wasn’t so much that something appeared, but more the sudden absence of something. She diverted a small piece of the Mental Singularity to puzzling out that absence, when it hit her like an S-ranked fist to the gut.

  Ellie had entered Terry’s rift!

  Power surged around her, terrible and violent, not recognizing friend from foe. An A-ranking Otherworlder’s mind exploded. Another’s aura turned on him, flaying him alive with his own telekinesis. A dozen enemies suddenly became confused, attacking each other with feral aggression.

  At her side, a voice called out through the cacophony of battle.

  “Pen! Watch the friendly fire!”

  She turned opaque silver orbs on the man, nearly smashing her aura into him on instinct. Then, through the fog and fury, she recognized her own father. “Dad!” she cried out, her voice echoing across a thousand minds. “It’s Terry! He’s in danger!”

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