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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Majestic_Teach_6677 on 2025-12-10 21:01:37+00:00.

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It turns out I was wrong about needing to warn Rashaak about Skylar. I also underestimated her ability to create an incident that would be reported to the Terran Embassy Complaints Department.

Not long after I left, Skylar convinced Rashaak and all his human roommates to meet up at That Human Bar where she proceeded to introduce them to Mar’ba’qua Fruit Bombs. What could go wrong?

They got into a food fight after Skylar threw a Fruit Bomb at Gabrielle smacking her on the forehead, who responded by chucking a handful of fries at Skylar. Half of the fries missed and went sailing to hit humans at the next table, who responded with poorly aimed pieces of protein sticks. Then everything quickly escalated as all the other human patrons at the bar joined in. Non-human customers were horrified and called the authorities, and Skylar’s entire table had been hauled off to the drunk tank and investigated for mental illness. Including Rashaak who had looked shell shocked and hidden under the table during the entire incident.

The Terran Embassy received a flood of reports at the Complaints Department and now had to explain to the galaxy the concept of a food fight, which no other sapient race could comprehend. Why would any sane sapient waste food like that? The idea of using food as recreational ammunition just does not compute. 

I sighed as I put away my datapad. I had learned of the incident not because one of my friends told me about it, but because it was one of the top 10 stories on GalNet News and I instantly recognized the delinquents involved from the security footage in the report. Of course, I sent them a message that said, "Really, guys?" with a link to the news article so maybe I'd get some sort of explanation soon.

“With friends like these, will I need to hide my connection to them to avoid a mandatory mental health exam? Or will I just be declared insane by default after a specified period of exposure to humanity?” I wondered aloud as my stomach growled and I got up from the bench just outside the hanger where I had docked the ship.

Probably the most puzzling aspect of the incident was That Human Bar announced a new monthly Food Fight Night in response. I wasn’t sure if this would turn out to be a PR nightmare or a blessing in disguise for humanity. 

Personally? I was with the majority of the galaxy wondering why in the stars humans would think to waste perfectly good food, yet there was also the engineering part of my brain wondering what foods would work best in a fight. Would a cooked pea be ideal because it’s aerodynamic, or should you select a cooked carrot for greater size and impact? Would something like a pudding cup be preferred due to making a bigger mess and the potential for splash damage?

I shook those thoughts aside as I checked the time and headed into the station towards the food court. I had a reservation at Toots and Froots and no intention to waste any morsel while there if the menu was accurate. Rather than meet the TEV Ursa Minor at this station as originally planned, I would be picking up our new EMT named Enrique and then transiting to meet up with the ship in deep space. This gave me just enough time on station to investigate the restaurant before meeting Enrique, and I was determined not to miss this opportunity.

After a short jog through the station, I saw a large sign over an entrance that proudly declared Toots and Froots. The Toots was in green with a set of human musical notes in black above it, and Froots was in red. I'd need to ask a human what the deal was with the musical notes, and why 'fruits' was misspelled like that. Underneath was a small slogan “Fine Herbivorous Delights!”, however it wasn’t the sign or the slogan that really caught my eye.

On the wall was a cartoon style mural of jungle foliage with a range of fruits hanging on the trees as well as oversized bowls underneath featuring a wide range of galactic vegetables, including multiple kinds of human beans. Over 25 meters long, the mural gave a hint to just how large the restaurant was while also adding a tremendous amount of color to an otherwise drab section of the station. The size of the place was especially impressive given that humanity was still new to the stars, but perhaps that novelty helped attract customers. After all, this was one of the few human owned restaurants in the sector.

Heading towards the entrance, they had only one large window next to the double-wide door. Inside I could see a bustling buffet style restaurant with a wide range of sapients. 

“Haasha, reservation for one,” I declared as I stepped up to the podium just inside the entrance. 

“Of course!” a tall human wearing a black shirt with the restaurant logo responded. “Will you need a menu, or will you be indulging in the fruit bar?”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to the fruit bar,” I answered, which got me a knowing smile and nod from the man. 

“Excellent! Right this way, please,” he said as he ushered me through the restaurant. Strangely enough, the table he sat me at was on the opposite side of the restaurant from the sign that indicated the fruit bar. It seemed a little strange to be sitting so far away from my intended food source, but not that huge a deal. The restaurant did seem to be quite busy, and a little walk helps stir the circulation and appetite. The only odd item is there appeared to be some sort of tracks in the ceiling which converged in this section of the restaurant.

The gentleman pulled out a small bowl of packaged crackers and placed it on my table. “Our Py’rapt’ch guests often find water and crackers for the occasional palette cleansing most appealing to match the fruit bar. We do stock a full range of beverages if you would prefer.”

“No, water will be just fine,” I said happily. 

“Excellent! When you’re ready, please follow the signs to the fruit bar and another member of staff will be available there to assist,” he said with a professional smile before walking back to the podium at the entrance.

I set my datapad down at my table and walked over to the fruit bar. Along the way I spied a wide variety of foods on the plates of other patrons, sadly a significant amount looked far too salad-like for my tastes. That said, I spotted quite a few with enticing piles of fruit among the salad and I had high hopes that the fruit bar would deliver. 

There appeared to be a single entrance to the fruit bar area just beyond a row of booths, and as I approached I spotted a strange oversized sign. It had an arrow pointing to the left labeled “Py’rapt’ch” and then an arrow to the right declaring, “All other sapients.”

I stopped in confusion wondering if the sign was some sort of joke in poor taste. Why would my people have a separate line? It just didn’t make sense. Before I could consider things any further, a voice spoke up.

“Hello there!” a short but well-muscled human woman said to me. She wore a restaurant staff shirt and stood in the path indicated for all other sapients. With a friendly smile, she ushered me to the left. “Right this way!”

I was guided up a little staircase where there was a seat at the top that appeared to have a raised harness.

“Please allow me to help you into the seat,” the woman said warmly. Unsure and confused, I did as requested. She tucked her hands under my armpits and carefully lifted me into the seat.

A moment later, I was shocked as the harness was lowered and locked in place with my feet dangling. Taking a closer look at the seat and harness, it looked similar to pictures Jarl had shown me of human amusement park rides called roller coasters. I was stunned into silence and unsure what was happening, so I simply turned to the woman in shock hoping for more information.

“Welcome to the fruit bar at Toots and Froots!” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I get the impression this is your first visit, so allow me to explain how the buffet works. Point at a fruit you’d like to sample, and I’ll grab a piece for you to try. If you’d like it added to your bowl, just nod. Shake your head if you don’t. We’ll begin your journey through the land of fruit and honey in just a moment!”

And with that, she walked away leaving me firmly locked into this seat. I was starting to get upset and offended. What had my people done to be treated in this fashion? I was about to yell at the woman about how I would report this to the Sapient Rights Commission when my chair suddenly dropped and swung around towards the fruit bar.

The first thing that hit me was… the smell. The glorious GLORIOUS smell of fresh fruits. All arrayed in front of me. Nearly 10 meters of fruit! Mar’ba’qua, mango, peaches, treloranges, actual Earth oranges, blue fruits, red fruits, and at least 10 different varieties of apples. That was just in the first 2 meters!

I started straining in my seat trying to grab and sample everything, but even with my long arms the seat kept me firmly in place and everything out of reach. It was so infuriating that I nearly wanted to scream out in rage. So many fruits, so many choices, and I was just being teased by all of them!

The woman appeared quickly with a bowl half filled with chopped Horvakian palm leaves and a cup fu...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/GreedyIndependence65 on 2025-12-10 19:27:02+00:00.

Previous

“Alright, get your seats.” The massive hamster like creature demanded from the podium in front of the classroom.

The students, young adults from dozens of species around the galaxy, slowly found somewhere to sit, or at least remain still during the lecture, for those unable to sit.

“Now, your homework for last night was to read about an important event in galactic history, named by the Terrans as ‘Operation Poker Face.’  Again, do not confuse this with ‘Operation Lady Gaga’, which was unanimously declared a war crime by the Galactic Council.” The lecturer spoke as the students finally calmed.

“Excuse me, Instructor Zermon, but after the required reading I was curious about Operation Lady Gaga.  Did the Canadians really do that?” a tiny, scaled student inquired.

“They did, but we will not speak of it anymore.  The school administration has declared such conversations to be harassment and intimidation of the victim species.”

“Whoa, Canadians sound awesome!” a male voice echoed through the large teaching hall.

“I assure you their actions were not awesome.” the Instructor Zermon chided, “By bombarding Larvana, the molten home world of a sapient lava species, with ‘water balloons’ and justifying it by saying ‘they looked thirsty’ the Canadians killed billions.  Their apology afterward only added to the outrage when they claimed, ‘nobody said not to’.  Anyway, no more questions about Operation Lady Gaga.  Now, on to the subject at hand.”

Instructor Zermon was caught off guard as he noticed a human seated near the front of the class.  “No sense letting an opportunity to make his students uncomfortable go to waste,” he thought.

“You there, human, did you complete the assigned reading?  Give us a summary.” Instructor Zermon said, pointing a clawed digit at the young man.

“Well, it was about 200 Terran years ago.  The Terran Federation was new to the Galactic Council and faced an unwinnable war.  Everyone knew humanity faced extermination by the Xerlon Empire.  Unable to mount any real defense, the Terran Federation claimed to have a weapon capable of detonating stars and having seeded all Xerlon stars with the weapon. But, the Terran Federation…” the young human male spoke before being interrupted.

“Right. Xerlonian, continue from where the Terran left off.” Instructor Zermon demanded, pointing at the Xerlonian sitting across the room.

“Uhh, well, the Terran Federation was lying.  They never had such a weapon. An unstudied, unclaimed star exploded at the end of its life cycle.  The Terrans used this lack of awareness by the Galactic Council to claim responsibility. While many believed the Terrans were lying, nobody wanted to test the theory, including my people.” The Xerlonian spoke softly.

“Indeed.  It seems neither of you are as dumb as you look, nor as foolish as your species history would suggest.” Instructor Zermon said with disdain.

“Now, tell me class, how long do you think the Terran Federation managed to maintain this ruse?” Instructor Zermon asked.

“Not long” a voice like thunder boomed throughout the room, “someone must have figured it out soon after.”

“It seems the rumors of stupidity among the Rokite species are unfounded.  You are correct.  Less than ten Terran years after the beginning of Operation Poker Face evidence was brought before the Galactic Council proving the Terran claim of responsibility false.  Yet, the Terrans doubled-down on their claims, offering a second exhibition of stellar annihilation.” Instructor Zermon shouted, just to be heard over the echo of the student’s voice.

“Stupid humans! They tricked the galaxy once, and then, despite not actually having a weapon, they hoped for such luck again?!” the Xerlonian spoke with arrogance.

“Yes, the Terrans are uniquely stupid, but they are also uniquely conniving.  You see, the Terrans knew someone would eventually test them. So, in the years following their claim, the Terrans researched and built a device in a far-off star system that could detonate the star.  As the Galactic Council watched, the Terrans fired an inert tungsten rod through a warp gate and into the star. Of course, without the Galactic Council’s knowledge, their device, which took months to construct and was hidden behind the star, triggered, detonating the star.” Instructor Zermon announced with a look of mischief.

“And everyone believed them… again.” A small voice from an avian looking student mumbled.

“Correct, my dim-witted protégé” Instructor Zermon began, “But, what is more important is to ask, how did the Terrans develop such a plan, you suppose?”

“Because the Terrans are liars, cheats, and soulless beasts!” a Larvanan student screamed in fiery rage.

“They are, indeed.  More, they are the best at it.  Terrans have perfected the art of lies and misdirection.  In the time before Terrans developed FTL, they had performers, called magicians.  These people performed what they called ‘magic’.  While it was nothing more than tricks and sleight of hand, the Terrans adored this type of entertainment. Despite knowing they were being lied to, Terrans would be amazed by the talents of the magicians.  No other known species in the galaxy has a culture which includes celebrating a known liar.” Instructor Zermon said while meeting the gaze of the lone Terran student.

“So, the Terrans just had some of the ‘magicians’ trick the Galactic Council once again?” an unknown student inquired.

“No, there was no need for that. You see, the Terrans leaders, called politicians by the Terrans, are the greatest liars in their civilization.  It was second nature for the Terrans leaders to develop a plan to fool the Council.” Instructor Zermon explained.

“Alright, fine, they fooled the galaxy, again. But, today we know it is another ruse, why does everyone still fear the Terran Federation? Let’s just invade and end this game.” The Xerlonian announced.

“Tell me, my disappointing student, how many species in the Galactic Council have enjoyed 200 Terran years of peace?” Instructor Zermon inquired.

“None.  Of course, none, except the Terrans.  The galaxy is survival of the fittest.” The Xerlonian insisted.

“And what do you suppose the Terrans have done with this period of peace?”

“We researched, built, and prepared.” The Terran student interrupted. “Today the Terran space fleet outnumbers nearly all Galactic Council species combined. Sol, our home star system, is so heavily militarized that every planet, moon, or asteroid large enough is armed and armored.  Asteroids too small to be of use as a platform were harvested for raw materials.”

“Correct, your species, once dependent upon the greatest lie in galactic history, is the unquestioned military superpower of the galaxy.  At least, so we all believe.” Instructor Zermon said as the class session ended and students began to leave.

Walking back to his desk, Instructor Zermon summoned the Terran student.

”You failed to turn in your report on the dynamics of the post-war economic conditions on Zoltude. As a result, I can not allow you to pass this course.” Instructor Zermon stated without concern.

“What? No, I turned that in days before the due date!” the Terran protested.

Handing the Terran a stack of assignments, Instructor Zermon said, “Look for yourself, it’s not there.”

Flipping through the hundreds of assignments, each written by hand on physical paper, the Terran student suddenly stopped.

“But, Instructor Zermon, my assignment is right here…” the student spoke.

Looking at the paper shown to him, Instructor Zermon relented, “So it is.  My apologies, I could have sworn it wasn’t there.”

“No worries, Instructor, but I need to go.  I’m going home to Quebec for the weekend.” the Terran said as he ran out the door.

With that, Instructor Zermon was alone in the classroom as he found himself wondering how he had not seen that assignment before.

Author Note:

Absolutely not becoming a "series." I enjoyed the previous iteration and just felt like it needed a proper ending. Enjoy!

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Al-Spencer on 2025-12-10 19:08:42+00:00.

It was a beautiful day at Szaso highschool. The sun was shining and the local avians were singing their songs in the treetops, while the students silently attended their classes. In other words it was the kind of day where seemingly nothing could go wrong.

But then a loud voice echoed through the halls of the school asking “What do you mean my son can’t attend your school?” in utter disbelief. The voice came from principal Hyp’s office and belonged to a human male. Normally a reaction like  that would have made people cower before the human pair.

But this wasn’t the first time, nor would it likely be the last time, Hyp had gotten that reaction. Thanks to that he managed to remain calm as he said “I am sorry about this truly I am. But you see we have learned that having a human in a school with any other deathworlder species is a recipe for disaster, as the kids say.” causing the two humans to just stare at him entirely caught completely off guard by his answer.

But Hyp didn’t give them any time to process what he had just told them and just continued with “Now I know this is a bit vague so let me explain. The biggest issue are the gobolds, gremlins, minions or whatever you call them, since they somehow always either get enlisted by the biggest human prankster in the school or manage to convince humans into playing some pranks on other students. Of course all harmless at first but they inevitably tend to get out of hand quickly, especially if there are any fae or pixie students involved or in the school as well. And of course dealing with the aftermath of these pranks isn't fun believe me, one of them almost made most of my janitorial staff quit. But the others don’t lack far behind them like the lamias, the problem with them is that they tend to be really overprotective of their human friends and with how much of a ‘bad rep’ you humans tend to have with most species, because of how hard you out perform them in their own niche, they are so proud of, trouble tends to find you quite quickly causing the lamias to intervene. Now of course they mean no harm and just want to protect their friends but sadly they are rather bad at controlling their strength, because of which quite a few of our students have been sent to the hospital already. The nephilim are worse though because they are encouraged to start searching for a partner at a young age as such the females tend to start fights between potential mates to find out who is stronger. Which of course tends to be more of an issue in schools with teenage students like ours, because giant dragon-like muscle mommies are rather hot or so if been told by some human students. Though the worst incident was when we had those five dreadworm, bullworm, grindermaw or whatever you want to call them, exchange students and a human student convinced them to dig an underground base for him which nearly made the entire school fall into a sink hole. In short a lot of the other deathworlder species like you humans quite a lot, giving you quite a bit of influence over them often just by being near them, like in case of the nephilim or gobolds. Honestly a little too much for most people to use responsibly and sadly my personnel is not trained nor honestly paid enough to handle this. As such the government has decided that all humans should attend a school specifically made for them.” the last part clearly pissed off the two humans which was of course understandable since nobody appreciated being segregated off just because of their species.

So Hyp quickly raised his hands and said “Now I know that this is complete and utter bullshit, as you humans like to say, but we made sure that the new school is on the grounds of Szaso highschool in addition to making sure that the human students are included in as many school activities as possible. Might seem counterproductive but we have hired quite a few human teachers that should be able to keep the human students, as well as other deathworlder students, in line. And honestly this entire thing is just an excuse to finally give our human students a curriculum that actually challenges them a bit at least. But in the end we are still trying things out to find out what works and what doesn’t to ensure a good learning environment for our students, humans included. However we are still quite a ways away from that and if you donˋt want to wait for that to be a reality, since there are certainly a lot of options for your son out there, I completely understand in the end I am just happy that you considered our school in the first place.” before standing up and extending his hand towards the two humans.

They both quickly followed his example and then shook his hand, before the woman said “You have certainly given us quite a bit to think about principal Hyp as well as some good stories to tell our friends. Anyways we will sleep on it and then contact you in lets say a week about our decision.” with quite a big honest smile on her face, before both turned to leave.

Hyp escorted them to the door and wished them a good day, before returning to his desk and sitting down in his old office chair. At this point peace had returned to Szaso highschool and everything once more looked as peaceful as could be. But the moment Hyp thought that his communicator began to ring causing him to pick up with a wary “Yes what is it?”

“Pardon the intrusion sir but we have a situation here and well you better come see this yourself sir because I honestly have no fucking clue how to handle this and the janitor wants a word with you anyways.” the tired voice of Mr.Dro told him from the other end. 

Which caused Hyp to chuckle as he said “Never a boring day with our human students huh? I will be there shortly.” before hanging up and then walking out of his office towards the location Mr.Dro had sent him happily clicking his mandibles as he did because to him this was the fun part of his job seeing what his human students had done this time.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Vast-Listen1457 on 2025-12-10 18:56:52+00:00.

Actual information in authors note. Please read it.

*-*

27th of Arah – Continued

The three heroes climbed the hill, towards the apparently ever-present storm. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, rain fell. As they got closer to the large old mansion, they could see the darkened windows and front door staring at them like a face.

“Well, this place is creepy.” Hesh commented.

“Ya think?” Sam replied.

“I try not to; it makes my head hurt.” Molly completed the old joke.

They climbed the front steps, and looking at the impressive brass door knocker sculpted to look like a demon’s face with the handle being the demons lower jaw, decided to knock with their fists instead. After the third knock, the demon dead let loose a sigh, grumbled something under its breath, and the door creaked open.

The three, in unison, glanced slowly between the head, the open door, and back, before slowly pushing the door open the rest of the way. The room beyond was dark, lit for bare moments by the flashes of lightning. Still, with the flashes, they were able to make out an entrance vestibule, flanked with closets on each side. As they stepped in, a pair of unnoticed gas lights lit, illuminating the once nice, but now dilapidated state of the room. Through an arch, they could see an entrance hall, also dilapidated, lit by similar lighting. In fact, as they watched, the entire first floor of the mansion seemed to come alight as lamps lit in an ever-expanding arc around them.

The mansions smelled of dust, mold, rot, mice, and decay. As they explored the first floor, they found it to be abandoned. Once beautiful plush furniture sat rotting in several of the eleven rooms of the first floor.

The library, a once ornate room of books and paper smelled the most of mouse, with the books rotted so far as to be unreadable. Sam attempted to pick one up, but it disintegrated in his hand, leaving a pulpy sludge behind.

With nothing left to explore, they entered the main hall, with its seemingly solid main stairs to the second floor. The hall was large, with Hesh estimating it to be some twenty-five feet deep and thirty-five wide. The grand staircase in the deep center of the room, climbed some eighteen feet into the air, ending upon a gallery surrounding the hall. A place that Sam remarked would be a good place for an ambush. Still, ambush or not, the three climbed the cold, damp, and slippery steps.

Sam looked up while climbing the steps, “I don’t know why I just thought of this, but did you the Finnish word for best friend is “kusipää”?”

Hesh slowly shook their head, “Now isn’t the time for a language lesson.”

“I know, it just came to mind for some reason.” Sam replied.

As they reached the second floor, they looked over the rotting railing of the gallery on which they now stood, and shuddered a bit at the some twenty foot drop. On the floor lay a ratty mold infested rug that at one point would have been quite beautiful, but now lay there in ruin. There were four doors on this side of the gallery, one that led to the right from the top of the stairs, one just ahead of the stairs, and one farther down the way, and an archway at the far end, not much past the last real door.

All three doors hung in ruins, as though some one, or thing, had broken through each one. Glancing through the broken door to the right, they discovered it led to a short passage that paralleled the stairs, and smelled bed. They skipped it for now.

The door directly across from the stairs turned out to be much more interesting, as it appeared to be the master bedroom of the mansion. A large four poster bed dominated the room; sadly, covered with things the trio didn’t want to think about. To the left and right were more destroyed doors, each leading to a dressing room, one for a man (as evidenced by the clothing laying on the floor), and one for the lady of the house. Passing through the ladies dressing room they discovered the stinky passage, a bathroom and eventually a room containing a pair of fainting couches.

They stared at the couches for a few moments, staring, then averting their eyes. “I’m sure I have no room to talk, but that is a horrific way to die.” Hesh said, voice hitching a bit.

For their part, Sam and Molly just nodded. “On the other hand, there are a pair of doors on the other side of the room. Perhaps we should skirt the room and take a look?” Molly asked.

Keeping their eyes averted, they crept around the abattoir like scene, and through a glass pained door. A door that, once passed through, brought a sigh of relief. The room smelled like the fertile plains, no rot, mold, or other such smells; unsurprising due to the menagerie of plants, bushes, and small trees. It also helped that the glass roof and walls were missing a few pains here and there, letting in the outside air.

As lightning flashed across the sky, followed immediately by the crack of thunder, they stared at the majesty of the storm. Finally, Hesh broke the silence, “Is that a wire over there, leading to the roof?”

After taking a momentary look at the place Hesh was pointing to, the other two nodded. I think you’re correct.” Molly replied. The three walked over to investigate.

The wire in question; a thick thing of almost an inch in diameter; ran from the floor to the ceiling. Actually, it ran through both the floor and ceiling. Tugging it gently at both visible ends, the conclusion was made that it was attached to things at both ends.

“Do we climb up to the roof and see what’s up there?” Sam asked, looking out the glass pained wall into the ever-constant storm, “Or do we find out where it goes down below us?”

Hesh laughed, “I would rather deal with the smells, than face that storm while walking on the wet roof.” To which Molly vehemently nodded.

Sam smiled at his friends, nodded in agreement, and the three left the conservatory for the stairs down. From the bottom of the stairs, they hooked a right through another of the rotting doors into what had once been a well-appointed parlor room, and began to search the wall that would be directly under the conservatory, but found no sign of the wire.

Staring up at the ceiling, then down at the floor, Hesh took a step back, then turned around, placing their back to the wall, then began to pace the distance to the far wall.

Sam raised a finger, about to ask a question, but Molly interrupted him with a hiss, “Their pacing off the distance from wall to wall.”

“But why?” Sam asked, one eyebrow raised.

“To compare it to the conservatory.” She responded. “To check to see if this room is narrower than up above. You know old places like this occasionally hide servants’ stairs behind false walls and such.”

 “Oh.” Sam smiled, then punched the wall where Hesh had started pacing from. “I have a better idea.” On the other side of the lath and plaster wall, Sam’s arm met nothing but air. “Hey, buddy! There’s a space back here!” He yelled over his shoulder to Hesh, as he ripped open the wall further to reveal a narrow set of stairs leading down.

Rolling their eyes in annoyance, Hesh returned from across the room. “You could have let me have this one.” They grumbled under their breath. To which, Sam just snorted.

The trio began the trek down the narrow; and dust free; stairs into the depths below.

*-*

From here on out, I plan on writing chapters that run 1500-2000 words. Once that area is reached, I will publish the chapter. This will give me enough breathing space, but still get chapters out, without me worrying "too" much about a schedule. I hope you enjoyed this one, and the next chapter should conclude the heroes investigation of the "vampire's" manor.

Other news... It's snowing here in MN. Temps have dropped (in my area) to -15f (-26.1c) on a regular basis. A friend of mine (one John Danielski) who writes Napoleonic War era fiction for Penmore Press has allowed me to write a short story about one of his minor NPC's from his forthcoming book "The Corsair Conundrum"!!! 

My story will take place after the conclusion of the novel, and will NOT be included in the book. I still plan on releasing the short for y'all to read, after the novel is published (unless I get stupid lucky, and they publish the story? HAHAHahahahahaha!). We will see, as it is someone else's intellectual property.

As far as home life goes, the old man is as healthy as a horse (aside from the Alzheimer's) and has his 90th birthday tomorrow! Everyone is tired. so very tired. My GF and I will be taking this weekend off to explore the frozen north shore of Lake Superior! Visit all the frozen waterfalls and take pictures. We are both looking forward to it.

My cats left me a dead mouse on the end of my bed last week. :) Such good hunters. 

Can't think of much else.

Stay safe all of y'all!

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Klokinator on 2025-12-10 17:55:15+00:00.

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(Previous Part)

(Part 001)

January 29th, 2021. Base of Mount Sinai, 4PM.

It had taken the demon six hours following their rapid assault on Saint Catherine's Monastery. They had wiped out the defenders, but hadn't bothered chasing any stragglers. A few humans escaping meant nothing to them when their true goal was so close at hand.

Emperor Satan arrived around 2PM and spent a couple hours organizing the preliminary forces for their intended strike into the heart of Sinai. In order to fortify their position, the demons had surrounded the mountain with multiple structures built by Burrowers and reinforced with high level magic. As it just so happened, they had several Fairy allies who were capable of setting up formations to reinforce these otherwise unremarkable stone structures.

Tens of the mini citadels surrounded Mount Sinai, and each one had a Warper or two inside, holding open portals elsewhere on Earth, usually in the vicinity of one of the major Hells. In this way, reinforcements could arrive within moments, and more and more demons were already making their way to the battlefield.

Angels flew high in the sky. Demons didn't usually have wings, and only a few had the gift of flight, so the angels had a huge defensive advantage by controlling the skies. Unfortunately, the angels lacked in champions capable of fighting at the levels of Dukes and Emperors. Purebloods were few and far between, and most Lazarites could only measure up to Barons at best. It was the few living Archangels who were capable of outfighting the demons, and they were badly outnumbered.

In total, only four Archangels still walked the world of the living. They were Raphael, Camael, Gabriel, and Uzziel. Gabriel wore Michael's ring, but aside from these four, there were no others still among the living. Brother Samael had fallen long ago, prior to the War in Heaven, and Sister Uriel had her soul stolen by the demons. As for the two long-dead ancient archangels, Muriel and Cassiel, they were not worth speaking about. They were so distant in memory that none of the demons knew of them, save for Satan, who secretly concealed Samael's soul within himself...

Thus, with only four champions at their disposal, the angels seemed not to be in a good position. However, the demon leaders knew the situation would be far from a cakewalk.

At the base of the mountain, four demon leaders gathered together to discuss the coming battle. Among them were Satan, Diablo, Lucifer, and Auger.

"We're not able to open any portals inside Heaven." Diablo said, as he walked over and clapped his hand on Satan's shoulder. "We've been trying for hours, but Heaven's dimension has been fortified and rearranged. We can't get a mental lock on any of the ancient monuments."

"Cheh. I never thought we would. It was worth a try, though." Satan said, as he rubbed his chin and looked up at the mountain. "Looks like the only way inside is through Heaven's Gate."

Diablo scratched his head. "I do not understand. Why don't the angels simply close the gate and retreat inside?"

"Hehehe. Our enemies ain't just worried about saving their hides." Satan said knowingly. "Think of the message this would send to the human leaders observing the situation. Standing firm and defending against our attacks signals their bravery and willingness to stand up to us. But cowering inside the mountain and closing themselves off would indicate weakness. What do you think would happen to the Vatican's prestige if the angels acted like a bunch of scared lil' babies?"

"Their entire religious infrastructure would collapse." Auger said, throwing his hat into the discussion. "The angels need humans to pray to them, and the human governments only tacitly support the angels because they fear their wrath. But if the angels bunker up inside of Heaven, they will simply hand us an easy win."

Lucifer filed her long razor sharp nails. "Even if the angels disable Heaven's Gate, they can still open portals outside of Heaven. You place too much faith in them trying to maintain an appearance of bravery."

"It ain't just about appearances, sweet-cheeks." Satan laughed cruelly. "Hahaha, Mount Sinai is symbolic! If they turn off the gate, we'll take over the mountain and never let them reopen it! They'll suffer a humiliation 10,000 lifetimes couldn't wash away! Doesn't matter if they make a new Heaven's Gate elsewhere on Earth, because once we roll up on that one, they'll have to disable it too, and the next one, and the next one. Everyone'll know the Archangels are just a bunch of paper tigers!"

"So they must fight." Diablo said, nodding slowly. "Good. We need them to fight if we hope to achieve our strategic objectives. Speaking of which..."

Diablo turned a slow, withering gaze toward the Devil.

"...isn't it about time you told us what this is really all about?"

Auger and Lucifer both glanced at Diablo in surprise. He wasn't usually the type to care about this sort of stuff. But since he had asked, and since they were both dying to know, they immediately fixated their gazes on Satan, crossed their arms, and waited for his reply.

"Haha! Alright, I'll tell ya!" Satan said. "Now's a good time to spill the beans anyway, Deebs!"

He leaned in and lowered his voice.

"We're gonna take down the Lazarus Tower. Without it, everything the angels hold dear will collapse."

The other Emperors looked at Satan in surprise.

"That is a bold move." Lucifer said approvingly, before her face turned ugly. "But there's no chance of success! I hear the Lazarus Tower is positioned right in the heart of Hrothgar's Hall! There are multiple Titans living right next to it. Any assault force will get crushed into meat paste, even if we send Bael himself!"

"If our goal was to destroy the Lazarus Tower, it would indeed be pretty much impossible." Satan conceded. "But good thing that's not the plan. I intend to steal back Valac's Lantern and retake the power of the Lazarites for ourselves!"

Auger's eyes widened. "You want to steal the lantern? That is even more impossible. Satan, are you really risking all our lives over such a risky gamble?!"

"Again, your lives ain't at risk, unless you rush in like a bunch'a morons." Satan said, waving his hand flippantly. "That's why we got mooks to do the dirty work. Even if we lose ten million Grunts during this assault, so what? Sing 'em a eulogy and move on. We're just gonna hafta' make sure none of our big guys get knocked off by the Archangels, the Titans, or..."

"The Heroes." Auger said, his face contorting into a grimace.

Lucifer's ears perked up. She smiled like a witch, then put on an innocent expression.

"Did you say Heroes? Oh that reminds me, my dear sweet precious little Ose just brought me back some intriguing news. It must have slipped my mind!"

"News?" Satan asked. "What news?"

Lucifer moaned as she slowly cracked her back and stretched her legs, taking an annoyingly long time to reply while she forced the others to hang on her every word.

"Oh dear, it seems... you boys didn't hear? If only you had a brilliant, smart, beautiful daughter like me, you might already know. Ah, but where are my manners? I suppose I can tell you."

Her smile disappeared.

"The Hero named Cat Mask is more frightening than we may know. He has the ability to rewind time. It seems he has done so countless times, and he may even know our entire plan going forward, as well as how to counter us."

"WHAT?!" Satan roared, staggering backward in alarm. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?! This is awful news!!"

Lucifer shrugged. "I only learned a couple of hours ago. It seems Ose had a run-in with Cat Mask, and he defeated her handily. Thanks to her cunning wit, she managed to extract several important secrets from his lips before she beat a cunning escape. That's how we now know this entire plan could be a trap! The angels may have already been forewarned of Satan's plan by Cat Mask!"

A moment of silence followed. Auger frowned.

"Something isn't adding up. If Cat Mask can rewind time, then how could Ose possibly have escaped on her own? Especially if he could easily defeat her. If I were him, I would have killed her to prevent my secret from spreading."

"No, that's not right." Diablo interjected. "Because if you could rewind time, then even if your secret got out, you'd just rewind later and undo it."

"GENTLEMEN!" Satan shouted, interrupting their thoughts. "Can we skip the yapping and focus on the fact we have an enemy who can rewind time? I think this mig...

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The pressurized cage had a window. Glass warped the view of the stars, glittering across the black. A pale curve of white outshone all else, but restraints held her head so Khadam could only see it from the corner of her eye. Yet that horizon was unmistakable.

“OK, this is it. Are you ready?” Innovation’s voice whispered over the cage’s speakers, as if she really had a choice. A muzzle held her mouth shut, a bit gag kept her from biting off her own tongue, so it wasn’t like she could reply even if she wanted to.

“I’m letting go now.”

A dry, metal clunk vibrated the cage. Then, Khadam started to fall.

The white curve met her gaze and kept rising. It eclipsed the stars, and filled her sight, until there was nothing but the great circle of the Earth.

Spaceports and orbital factories hovered around the planet like so many black flies. Thousands of freight elevators reached up from the planet like the tendrils of parasitic fungi. Continental streaks of vapor and gray-black clouds spewed up from vast industrial facilities, and millions of geometrically perfect logistics lines carved up the land masses. Mining pits shone like red eyes—precise, spiraling circles that had been excavated down to the magma.

Gone were the forests and plains, replaced by concrete jungles and metal deserts. Gone were the mountains and plateaus, gouged down to their roots, as if some mighty hand had unzipped the very crust of the planet. Hives of industrial lights sparkled in those unnatural valleys, glittering like gems in polluted mists. Even the oceans had changed—once blue and pristine and so full of life, they now frothed at the edges and turned oily gray.

But the worst of all the changes were the gaping, machine-lined holes that pockmarked the planet. It looked as though a plague of termites had hollowed out the planet’s interior, creating a tunnel network as they chewed toward the last of Earth’s resources. Furious-looking gun emplacements and gleaming towers riddled with sensors and weapon systems ringed the entrances. Khadam could only guess at their firepower.

She wondered if they had ever been used, at all.

To her knowledge, there had never been an attempt to retake the Core Worlds. How could there be? Between the Prophet’s Disease and the Sovereign’s Lightning Wars, there was hardly anyone left. Only the far-flung Conclaves and isolated stations and last, desperate tribes. All gone. A terrible sadness gripped her chest as she dwelled on all that would forever be forgotten.

The pressurised cage bumped as its repulsors ignited to slow her descent. The world rolled beneath her, and that sadness turned to sickness as the armada slipped into view. A constellation of glittering, metal hulls and glowing repulsors hung in the Earth’s shadow. It looked like the Sovereign had sent every last ship, carrier, and drone to watch the handoff. Swarms of strikecraft spiralled around the massive segments of serpentine carriers. Towering world-breakers bristled with magnetized cannons large enough to crack the surface of a planet, let alone her tiny glass cage. Swarms of cruisers and frigates and battleships and all their drones extended beyond her little window of the world. The tell-tale flash of Light told her that more ships were warping in.

Is the Sovereign truly afraid something will come and steal me away?

Her left eyeball buzzed, a feeling so uncomfortable she tried to flinch back.

“Relax,” Innovation’s voice, conducted through her eye, said, “Only you can hear me.” And before she could answer, it whispered sharply, “Don’t speak! My sibling will know I’m here. Nod or shake your head if you want to answer me.”

Khadam nodded, though her head only moved a fraction of an inch thanks to the restraints. Painkillers slowed her response. Made her feel like she was moving through water. Her ribs throbbed with pain, and every breath stabbed up through her spine. In a way, that was a good thing. It meant the negation cube was still there, buried just beneath the surface of her skin. And, it kept her focused.

“I know what you’re wondering,” Innovation said. “Won’t a full body reveal this implant? Yes. When you go through processing, Logistics will scan and record each and every cell in your body. Unless you remove the cube, and use it*.* Inside, you will be close to the others. Innovation will do everything it can to save them. It will devote many resources. You will make Logistics weak. I will compel Domination to bring the full force of its strength to bear, and Logistics will understand that it is beaten.”

“The suit?” Khadam tried to say, her words deformed by the strap tying down her tongue.

“I said don’t speak,” the voice buzzed hard, making her slam both eyes shut. She wanted to scream. To claw her eye out.

“The suit is ready to drop, but I won’t know where to drop it until you set off the cube. The pieces will fall in a radius easily traversable by foot. You may need to search, but don’t worry. Logistics will be distracted. Do whatever it takes, Khadam, and we’ll both get what we want.”

Sure, she thought. Waves of hot pain rolled up from the place between her stomach and her ribs. Even with the painkillers, there was a tear rolling down the side of her cheek, and she had to keep her breathing shallow just to stay conscious.

The glass cage jolted as something behind latched on. Digital commands chirped through the metal, muffled and muted, more felt than heard, and a squadron of strike drones swooped ahead of the cage, forming a scatter patrol around her. They wove active disruption patterns. Perhaps Innovation is telling the truth. Perhaps the Sovereign is fractured. Logistics, afraid of its siblings. Thick metal wings and bright, blue repulsors obscured her view of the rest of the armada.

But Earth, she could still see. This close, its surface had never looked more alien. Countries made of concrete were broken up by straight-line gaps, which ran for hundreds of miles before snapping at right angles. Thousands of parallel railways connected factories to processing plants, then out into the wider grid. She couldn’t even see the old coastline—every jagged curve had been re-manufactured into perfect shape. The Sovereign doesn’t waste.

Innovation spoke in her mind, “There were cities here, once.”

Yes, she nodded.

“They were full of your kind.”

Murdered, Khadam thought.

“I recorded it all. Every inch, as it lay abandoned. The streets. The buildings. The things people left behind. I recorded it, because I knew they would tear it down. We pulverized the concrete, and recycled what we could. We flooded the atmosphere with carbon dioxide to warm the planet, to remove the unnecessary life. The plants. Bacteria. All the animals, of course. Then, we paved over it,” the voice said. “All of it. The mountains. The dead forests. The oceans proved difficult. I tested many things. In the end, we ended up using them as coolant. Perhaps not the most efficient, but a convenient solution.”

Innovation almost sounded proud of this.

“But it doesn’t have to be this way, Khadam. We will have all the worlds. Help me, and I will help you reclaim yours. I recorded everything. It will be just the way it was.”

“Listen,” Innovation said. “You are about to enter a place that I cannot follow. Say nothing about me. And hold onto the cube until after you pass through Habitation. You’ll know when you’re there. Do not use it a moment before. Do you understand?”

Khadam nodded.

“Look for the suit. It will have coordinates for an evacuation rendevouz. And then, your home awaits.”

The glass cage floated over a great, yawning void in the Earth. Absurdly thin pillars of reinforced stone and concrete and porous metal held it open, like braces on the jaws of a monstrous mouth. Rings of lights descended into the dizzying depths, and Khadam couldn’t tell if she was spinning, or if the hole was turning as it pulled her in.

Her squadron of drones peeled away as the cage plummeted toward the hole.

The cage began to rattle and creak. Her restraints vibrated against her flesh and the simple clothing Innovation had dressed her in, making the skin raw. She cried out from the pain in her stomach as the negation cube tore at her innards. Flames licked at the glass, and the sound and force of motion almost caused her to pass out. She felt like she was being pulled in two directions at once.

The surface of the Earth rose up to meet her, and slipped past. Darkness blanketed everything, broken only by blurred pinpricks of light. As her eyes adjusted, she caught strips of walkways and elevators. Heavy girders and great cables reaching into the Earth. Walls and decks, swarming with machine things, tending to their hive. Steam rose from somewhere far below, building into towering white columns that faded as the class cage dove inside.

The cage jerked—a shift so sudden that the cube in her stomach pressed painfully against her organs. Spit dripped down her chin, and her eyes rolled, and the world rolled the other way. Pain. Darkness crept in from all sides.

No.

Khadam gritted her teeth, and screamed against the pressure, screamed against the...

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“Come now darling, I think they will look quite nice on the shelf! Plus our lovely daughters could use a little treat, don’t you think?” He said, touching his nose to hers lightly, but still in a loving way.

“... What in the fuck is wrong with your parents?” Mohki said in open horror, watching the change in Tyllia’s mother the same way one would watching someone peel off their skin to expose a new person underneath. “Why is she speaking with a German accent?!”

Lirya smiled in an awkward way, looking towards Tyllia with faltering turns of the head. “W-... Well, she has… a wonderful mastery of English, eh? Don’t you think so, Mohki?”

“Where did she learn it from, a movie villain?” Mohki responded, which pulled a nervous laugh from Lirya in a hope to diffuse the situation.

Tyllia let out a world weary sigh, the dark ring around the bottoms of her eyes coming back with full force. “They uh… they’re… unique. At least they only brought their station staff and left the rest of the crew on the ship.”

Mohki whirled around in outrage to once again look at the crew standing awkwardly beside Tyllia’s parents, as she had assumed that was the entire crew of the ship, not just on-station staff.

“They’re going to call for me soon, and will want to leave the station as soon as they have me so they can go see my sister.” Tyllia said with a groan, watching her mother and father depart the desk. “They’re going to have me cornered.”

The twinge of fear in Tyllia’s voice spurned something inside Lirya’s chest, and she looked towards Tyllia’s parents. She felt like she needed to do something brave, to do something… selfless, like the Humans who had given it their all during their fight against The Pactless.

If no one was there to be Tyllia’s last stand unit…

Lirya looked up at Mohki, who looked back at Lirya… then squinted at the Kafya as she wagged her fluffy, white tail.

“No.” Mohki growled, shaking her head curtly as Lirya began to smile. “Nooo way.”

“Oh come on, Mohki.” Lirya said sweetly as she wrapped her arms around Tyllia’s, who looked around in confusion.

“No and come on what?” Tyllia asked, her fur suddenly hackling as hard as her mothers. “What are you two talking about?”

“We are not going with her!” Mohki shout-whispered. “You saw her mother, that would be like getting into a tarry-lift with a demon!”

Lirya pouted. “We can’t leave her alone, you see how distressed she is! It’s not like you don’t have seven months of leave time you haven’t used, you told me yourself that they have been… marching up your butt about it!”

“I said they were getting up my ass about it, but the answer is still no!” Mohki growled back.

Tyllia, understanding what was going on, whirled her eyes around to Lirya, aghast. “Lirya are you crazy?! My mother would be able to reach escape velocity if you got on her ship! She only hires anili for a reason!”

Lirya just smiled at Tyllia, patting her bicep with a calming, pawed hand. “It’s alright, I have dealt with that kind of stuff all my life! If being alone with your parents leaves you in this state, at least I would take the heat off of you for a while.”

The offered sacrifice caught Tyllia so off guard that, for a moment, she felt a little emotional, a lump budding lightly in her throat.

“You… Lirya, you would be miserable around my mom.” Tyllia whispered, then cracked a smile. “I mean, I was miserable around my mom, even before I got here.”

Lirya shrugged. “Well, better to be miserable together than alone, right Mohki?”

Mohki, resigning herself to the death sentence out of pure entrapment by Lirya’s unwavering loyalty, slowly pulled her data-slate away from her belt. “Yeah… sure. Why not.”

After a few minutes, Mohki was given three months of paid time off by her overjoyed HR department, Lirya and Tyllia got a leave of absence authorization from Miss La, and Tyllia got a message from her mother to meet them at the terminal so they could leave.

Lirya was surprised Miss La approved their leave of absence authorizations so quickly, but just shrugged and tried to keep Tyllia from going to pieces as they slowly walked towards her parents.

Tyllia’s mother and father, more to the case of her mother, chose to simply wait at the terminal than venture further inside the station. Her father was rather keen to look around, but he knew that his wife would throw a fit, and instead decided to do his looky-loo’ing on Earth instead.

When Tyllia arrived with not only a brown furred Kafya, but a white fur standing at her side holding some kind of horrible stuffed animal, the three were surprised that Tyllia’s mother didn’t combust on the spot.

“What in th-?!” Tyllia’s mother had begun, her eyes bulging at the sight of the warrior-clanned Kafya and the curse-fur, but her husband was more keen.

“Tyllia, my sweet child!” Tyllia’s father called out joyfully, wrapping his daughter in a great hug. “You made friends! I always knew you were able to! Darling, look, your daughter made friends!”

Up close, Lirya was further taken aback by Tyllia’s parents; Her father was far more slight than he had appeared, clearly bookish in nature with soft eyes that spoke of a character not normally known to those of the yellow fur. Her mother on the other hand was lean, wiry, and coiled like a beautifully forged spring, her beauty only second to her temper.

“It’s a… you’re socializing with a…” Tyllia’s mother stammered out, her ears pinned and face enraged as she looked Lirya from toe to ear tip.

“Goodness.” Tyllia’s father said, setting down his mentally exhausted daughter and looking over her shoulder. “You have certainly chosen unique companions!”

Tyllia’s mother spat out “Nedwo tra-” but her husband swept in front of her, blocking her hackled fur from view.

“Let’s see now…” Tyllia’s father said, setting his hands on his hips in a friendly manner and leaning back, looking up at the taller Mohki. “Piercings! And you seem to like your black clothing! Goodness, you must be one of the fearsome warriors of the Blackmoon clan!”

Mohki’s ears perked up at this, and she let out a wry smile, offering a spike bracelet-adorned hand to Tyllia’s father. “Uh… yeah! I am, actually. I work here on the station and hang out with these two when I’m not on duty.”

“In the warehouse no doubt! Judging from that muscle tone.” Tyllia’s father said chirpily, nodding his head towards her well muscled arm. 

Mohki let out a girlish, embarrassed laugh, something that made Lirya smile and Tyllia roll her stressed eyes.

“She’s a filthy-!” Tyllia’s mother spat out as she leaned to the side to point at Lirya, but was once again blocked by her husband.

Tyllia’s Father smiled at Lirya in a different way, offering his hand to Lirya with a kindness she had never known a yellow to do. “Anguin adi Lirya, it is good to see you so safe and happy here on this station. Thank you for seeing after my Tyllia, she can be quite the handful.”

Lirya, for lack of words, was starstruck by Tyllia’s father, her eyes wide, ears perked, and tail wagging as she happily shook his hand.

“I am Kohan Rhidi, and this is my wife Icirit.” Kohan said graciously, pulling his wife around to his side with a guiding arm. Despite her clearly over-boiling rage, Icirit behaved within the arm of her husband. “I don’t think you may meet my other daughter, Nam-”

“Lirya and Mohki want to come with me, Dad.” Tyllia said, the words bursting out of her mouth in a rapid onslaught before she passed out from holding them, pointing to the Kafya beside her. “They haven’t been to Earth yet and don’t want me going alone.”

Icirit visibly recoiled at the words and vibrated like the contents of a shaken soda can, while Kohan brightened at the idea like it was an icecream bar.

“Your friends want to come with you?!” Kohan cried out, clapping his pawed hands together. “Smashing! It would be like a girls trip! Darling, I don’t think Tyllia has ever had a girls trip before…”

“On our ship, on our decks!” Icirit hissed, her muscles so flexed that they were visible under her fur, her well cut dress straining at the leg. “On our ship?!”

“Of course, darling.” Kohan said, touching his nose to her cheek and diffusing her rage like an icecube to a burnt finger. “How could we make Tyllia’s friends travel separately? Come, come, let’s all go then!”

Icirit looked positively alarmed, turning to look at her husband in a panic. “Anshuki, no! We can’t allowing a bedamned ned-”

*“*Of course we can, darling, she is the same size as the rest of us!” Kohan said with a kind smile, and his wife pouted at him before glaring over her shoulder at Lirya as he turned her. “Now come, let’s get aboard so we can go down to Earth, we have an express beacon thanks to checking in on station. Don’t worry about clothes now, we’ll buy you all whole new wardrobes down on Earth, fine shops down there so I hear, very fine. Now, great warrior Mohki, was it? I have always wondered why your clan was so very much into Human piercings, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

“Er… I suppose, Mr. Rhidi.” Mohki called out as she trotted up beside the yellow furred Kafya, Lirya trotting after her as Tyllia tiredly brought up the rear with the staff. “What exactly were you wanting to know? Before you ask, yes the one on my lips hurt like a bitch and bled, its why a lot of people have fake ones, and you can’t see all the piercings, some are on my-”

“Mohki!” Tyllia cried out as Lirya giggled, slapping her hand to her face and dragging it down her face so her eyelids stretched. “Do not tell my father that!!!”

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Find the Audio Version here: https://youtu.be/UbRlvmrJNsc

“Miss La, what do you mean by ‘mass psychosis manifestation’?” The cyan-blue haired Pwah asked, holding up her hand while tilting her head. Her dull yellow, pupiless eyes stared at the screen, her eyebrows raised. “That doesn’t… it doesn’t sound real. It sounds more like some kind of illness, or mass hallucination.”

Miss La, wearing her favorite cable knit sweater and blue jeans, tapped her draconic foot on the decking. “What are you asking, exactly?”

“Well…” The Pwah looked around her at the other students, their eyes as questioning as hers. “I mean, gods… aren’t real, that’s mysticism. It’s not based in science or any other kind of higher intellectual learning.”

Miss La shrugged a shoulder. “Alright, then explain to me how a pre-space faring race can survive a genocide by The Pactless when no others have?”

“... Tenacity?” The Pwah asked, pulling a few quiet chuckles from the students around her. “Their determination?”

Someone began to hum an odd little tune, one that was well known to Humans as a “meme” song.

Miss La exhaled out her nose in a puff of laughter, then went to the next slide. “Normally, you would be correct. There has been no evidence of higher life forms, otherwise known as ‘gods’ or ‘deities’, in the records of the Inner Dolcir Coalition. There has been no way to track any such evidence or even prove it, as the only evidence we have is it being disproven. But, there are those of us who believe that the Humans had a particular leg up during their fight for survival.”

Miss La took a data-slate stylus and set it on the table, opening her palm to it. “No matter how much I pray to whatever god within the void, this pen will not move until either I or another physical force act upon it. This pen will rest here, forever, in eternity until something places a physical force upon its body and causes it to move. This is an easily understood cosmic force that all races, including Humans, can agree to.”

“However, things changed once we came to Earth and came within contact of something known as the ‘Human miasmir’.” Miss La intoned, turning on a small recording to play upon the Qua-quid screen. “Watch the ball.”

All of the students, including Tyllia and Lirya, watched the screen; Sitting upon the ground of an older building was a Pwah and Kafya researcher, resting in between multiple Humans decked out with sensory gear. In the middle of them all sat a ball on dirty concrete, the lack of light and usage of flashlights indicating it was late at night, or early in the morning. Their voices were clear, though there was an echo to them that made everyone’s ears twitch.

“Are you sure no air can get inside the barrier?” The Kafya asked, his fur a rosey-red and spectacle-goggles tight to his eyes.

The Pwah nodded, his ice-white hair and matching eyes bright in the flashlight glow. “We have blocked all avenues of air flow coming into this room, my sensors read only our breath, and we know those cannot move the ball.”

“We have also laid the keyboard next to the ball as a double safety.” A male Human said, adjusting the camera perspective to the bright, plastic toy normally used to excite babies and keep them occupied. “Are we ready?”

“There is no way it happens again this time.” The Kafya said with an odd determination. “We have every avenue covered, every variable controlled, this is the final test!”

The Pwah slowly looked towards the rosey-red Kafya, clearly shaken by something. “What if it does?”

“It won’t.” The Kafya growled, crossing his arms and ruffling the nylon jacket he was wearing. “Commence the test! We have spent too much time in this old barracks as it is!”

The Humans all smiled to each other, though the man behind the camera spoke up again. “We would prefer if you asked the questions, as you can’t use us as an excuse of knowing what would come next and transmitting signals. Just remember to keep your voice cordial.”

The Kafya rolled his eyes, then straightened his already straight goggles as he mumbled to himself. “I can’t believe… spirit, if you are still here, please give the Humans here a signal on their EMF reader.”

The dots all lit up again, and the Humans nodded. A female smacked the Kafya on the arm, who gave her a glare before rolling his shoulders.

“Thank you for responding, spirit. If you would, light up the yellow light on the keyboard, playing A-flat.” The Kafya said, his voice sounding either exhausted or exasperated.

The keyboard lit up, the yellow bee glowing with light as it played the corresponding sound, the Pwah shrinking away from the keyboard as if it had growled at him. 

“No way…” The Pwah whispered, his eyes only growing wider, appearing like a pair of oval moons on his slightly tanned face. “It lit up! It lit up despite the jammer-bank and the foil barrier around us! This is so insane!”

The Kafya, frown growing as his eyebrows came together, leaned forward, pointing at the keyboard. “Humans, everyone place your hands above the keyboard.” He then cupped his hands in front of his mouth, whispering as he turned his head away.

Slowly, one by one, the keyboard lit up with two yellow bees, the blue cow, a yellow bee, and the green tuft of grass, the notes playing along merrily despite no keys being pressed.

“Is that correct?!” The Pwah cried out, now scrambling towards the keyboard and eyeing it as if it were alive. “Is that what you said to do?!”

The answer was evident enough, as the Kafyan researcher was growling so hard his teeth were bared.

“It’s im-possible!” He snarled, standing. “Everyone stay here! Whatever is in this room, come with me.”

The Humans chuckled as the rosey-red furred Kafya stalked away, turning into a hallway.

“... How do we know it’s following him?” The Pwah asked, turning towards the Humans around him. “It’s invisible, isn’t it? This dead Human? Should we use the thermal trackers again?”

“Just wait.” Replied a woman, her soft brown eyes glittering in the flashlight beams.

It took a minute or two, but soon the keyboard began to play.

Blue cow, blue cow, yellow bee, red apple, red apple, then all the lights lit up at once.

“What did it play?” The Kafyan called from down the hallway.

The Pwah shuffled on his knees as he spun around, his voice bright and excited. “Blue, blue, yellow, red, red, and then all the lights lit up!”

“Son of a bitch!” The Kafya screamed down the hallway, causing all the Humans to laugh and chortle to themselves.

“It played the music, so it’s around us! Right?!” The Pwah called out as the Kafya slowly stomped his way back. “Let me show the ball is untethered for the camera, spirit!”

The Pwah quickly picked up the small soccer ball and bounced it off the wall a few times, running it around his body a few times before setting it back down on the dusty concrete. He then ran a detector around it, speaking excitedly as he ran these final tests. “As everyone can see, there are no strings on the ball, and the sound was obviously hollow as it struck the wall, nothing is inside here or we would have heard it.”

“Alright… alright…” The Pwah whispered to himself, forehead spotting with sweat. “Spirit… please, move the ball towards Doctor Escot.”

Doctor Escot smiled to himself as the ball slowly, purposefully moved towards him, the old soccer ball coming to a rest against his knees.

The recording stopped as Miss La pressed her finger against a place on her palm, and she turned towards her students.

“Researcher Lopify and Fikish spent five days with Humans hunting spirits, and despite their best efforts, they could not explain what was happening to the objects. This is only one of several recordings made during their time with the ghost hunting teams.” Miss La said, though her voice took a hard edge. “You would also know that Researcher Fikish has been missing for several years, going missing during his return to the Kafyan home system, while Researcher Lopify has not been allowed to leave Earth and is currently in forced exile.”

Several sets of Pwah and Kafyan eyes blinked; They had not heard of these people at all, despite recognizing their marks of title and rank present on their uniforms.

“How does a Hashi wallari yinwo go missing without anyone noticing?” Tyllia said aloud, her eyes narrowed. “That is an extremely high ranking research official tasked with gathering information on new species, it takes decades to reach that level within the Kafyan colleges.”

A male Pwah, his hair a vibrant red with blue eyes, turned towards Tyllia. “That Pwah held the rank of Delegate, which is just barely below royalty. Exiling someone with that much knowledge is unheard of. Some Delegates have committed murder, but are still working within the Pwah home systems.”

“Makes you think.” Miss La said loftily, though her eyes lingered on Lirya, something that made the white Kafya feel hot under her fur.

Lirya cleared her throat, looking anywhere but at the thickly muscled Skalathir.

“Despite what we believe in the IDC, something odd is happening on Earth that many of us can’t explain, something that comes in tandem with the Human miasmir. Something is down there, and it follows Humans wherever they go.” Miss La began to explain, itching at her broad, slightly flat stomach. “The planet experienced so much bloodshed that it was said the soil of Earth stayed wet with blood for weeks after, and the world was awash in flowers that only grew ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Proximal_Flame on 2025-12-10 16:37:56+00:00.

This month’s first update is here, with a fresh chapter of The Serpent’s Garden! Red One and the Calnian fleet have arrived in Meer Colhara, the site of the Calnian’s greatest atrocity. The Meer-Ulson were not exterminated, but they’ve been driven back to their homeworld and kept in perpetual isolation until the Calnians can be assured that they won’t pose a danger to anyone else.

The Calnians will be waiting a long time.

A snippet from the chapter is below, and the rest can be found at the link above. Enjoy!

~

Nanil spoke briefly to the border sentinels’ hierarchs. They made little effort to hide their fascination with the flotilla’s alien companions and were quick to discuss their duties within this system as they directed the new arrivals from their emergence at the rip point to the security checkpoint at Coldheart, though Nanil didn’t learn much that she hadn’t from the briefings. Still, it was good to keep up amicable relations with other officers. FAD’s bonds were tighter than those of IOP or other services.

This was Nanil’s first visit to Meer Colhara; what she knew of it came from stories, Pride archives and history lessons. Meer Colhara had been a hellish world even before the Hegemony had turned its air black with ash and blotted out its sun. No one quite knew what it had been like before the Meer-Ulson arrived, but based on what data they’d been able to collect, it had been a world of blues, reds and yellows with an ecosystem all its own. Then it had become an industrial fortress and the center of the never-ending production and development of interstellar units and war materiel that had once spanned this system. Shipnests by the hundreds, moons with artificial rings. The fires of the forge had enveloped Meer Colhara on a scale that the Hegemony had never before dreamt of...

...and then we brought fires of our own.

The world of Coldheart met the flotilla as a brooding grey sentinel; a great frozen gas world on the farthest reaches of Meer Colhara with more than eighty moons, it had been a launching point for Meer-Ulson fleets, and the first of several bastions within the system itself. Though the Hegemony’s interstellar units could have bypassed it to emerge deeper within the system, it and its vast courts of combat units could not be allowed to remain at the Pride’s back. Supreme Pride Overseer Ensar-Preka had made the first assault upon Meer Colhara here at this world. A third of his forces, themselves more than a third of the Pride’s remaining strength, struck directly at Coldheart, its industry and its fleets.

The battle had been horrifying, devolving into brutal close-quarters fighting; only the siege on Meer Colhara itself was more costly. It was also the first time that the Pride had lost a host vessel in battle, the cousin to Operational Necessity and one of the intendants of the assaulting force. The wreckage of those units, Pride and Meer-Ulson alike, had been left in orbit of Coldheart’s sundered moons as a memorial to the lives lost upon them. The entire system was like that now, all but silent save for the electromagnetic song of lifeless worlds. The Meer-Ulson had fought to the last on every planet and the fleet had had to scour the void of every ship and keep before closing in on Meer Colhara itself. The Meer-Ulson had accepted no quarter and offered none, forcing the Hegemony to shed and wade through an ocean of blood.

~

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/YukiteruAmano92 on 2025-12-10 14:52:21+00:00.

Previous | Interlewd LII | Interlewd LIII | Interlewd LIV | Interlewd LV | Interlewd LVI | Next | First

---Chamber---

---Ingvar’s perspective---

I’m standing on top of a cliff under a midnight sun, bouncing excitedly from leg to leg as I watch the capsule approach from the South, framed by my planet’s rings behind it.

It’s about 8°C out here right now, about as warm as it ever gets this far North.

Sun, warmth, customers to greet… could a boy ask for more?

The craft sets down on the rocky ground, depositing its baggage onto the top of the luggage lift.

The suitcases are swallowed down into the suite beneath my feet as the private transport’s door swings up and open.

The pair who emerge, though a little dishevelled after the late night they’ve presumably just arrived from, are two of the best dressed and best looking people I’ve ever seen!

Despite having lived on a planet with a small refugee population of them my entire life, this is my first time ever seeing a Don in the flesh.

She’s dressed in an absolutely gorgeous blue and silver dress, green at her forearms.

Two heads taller than me with blue skin, white hair done up in Norse wedding braids, glowing white eyes blinking blearily and four thin, four fingered arms, two of which she has draped about her man as she leans on him, her four fangs bared in a loving smile.

Her claws are painted silver and she has a beautiful ring on her upper left hand, a good match both to the dress and the stunning silver and sapphire crown she has on at her forehead!

As visually striking as the alien woman is, my attention doesn’t rest on her for more than a second before it’s captured by her new husband.

His build, his height and his hair colour are such that, with only the addition of a hammer, a beard, red contact lenses and Norse clothing, he’d make the most convincing Þórr ever!

He’s more than a head taller than me and looks like he might be twice as heavy!

Long, curly copper hair spills over the arm draped across his broad shoulders.

His handsome, boyish face is enhanced by dark circles under his eyes and a loving smile directed at his wife.

On him, beardlessness has somehow ended up looking more handsome than if he had a beard(!)

The style of the wedding suit he wears immediately marks him as nonNorse, even if his surname and unshaven face wouldn’t have (some men on this planet do keep themselves clean shaven and it’s not as if there’s any law that states only those with Norse patronymic surnames are allowed to settle here(!))

Green just became my new favourite colour for men’s wedding clothes, this man wears it so well!

On his top half he has a tailed, medium green jacket which comes down to the backs of his knees. It’s trimmed in a darker green with red metal buttons and lapel ornaments of the same.

The arm I can see (for not being entwined between his wife’s and wrapped around the small of her back) is girthy looking!

His trousers are tight enough that the complete absence of any jiggle in his legs as he walks reveals there not to be so much as a gram of wasted fat on his body… as well as *ahem* the other appealing thing they suggest(!)

I have to take a moment to squash the little seed of jealousy that sprouts inside me, imagining myself in that Don woman’s position!

It’s the cost of working at a resort primarily frequented by honeymooners; I see a lot of cute guys looking the most gorgeous they’ll ever look and they’re all off limits(!)

Well, all of them except the scumbags willing to flirt with their hotel concierge mere hours after getting married and sometimes in front of their spouses… but all the good looks in Miðgarðr aren’t enough to rescue them from undesirability!

Gods, I need to find myself a boyfriend and quickly(!)

As the lovely couple’s feet touchdown on the rocky clifftop, I throw my arms wide and greet “Welcome to Fantasy Cliffs Resort Suites and thank you so much for choosing us, Mr and Mrs Taylor!” with enthusiasm I don’t need to fake.

They both manage to tear their gaze away from eachother to look at me.

The emerald green eyes belonging to the handsome man flick between mine as he notices their colours… but he doesn’t react to it other than that.

 “My name is Ingvar! I’ll be your concierge but don’t worry; as soon as I’ve given you guys the tour and safety instruction, I’ll be out of your way.”

The subtlest frown of confusion passes over the man’s face as he says “Nice to meet you, Ingvar.” in a hoarse voice, speaking English accented New Norse, before turning to mutter “Safety instruction?” into his smirking wife’s long, pointy blue ear.

Hmmm, that’s an unfortunate but definite hit to his attractiveness!

He’s not too bright, is he?… He hasn’t understood that we can’t just let guests turn up and use it without telling them how to use it first! It wouldn’t be safe!

“Do you have any objection to my beginning the tour?” I smile, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

“No… go right ahead…” shrugs the offworlder speaking my language.

“Excellent! Fantasy Cliffs Resort Suites spreads across 100km2 of arctic wilderness. If you were visiting in Winter, it would likely be around -100°C and climate control fields would be absolutely essential but, since it’s currently Summer, that’s not necessary. Behind you…” I gesture past them as the craft takes off “…you’ll see the edge of a 400m tall cliff. Rest assured; the base of this cliff is lined with momentum arresting fields that will be active as long as anyone is atop this plateau so you won’t die if you fall off. We do, however, advise against falling off if it can be helped, since you will subsequently be stuck down there until one of our pods can come to retrieve you. Should you require assistance, our central office is 6km that way…” I point Northwest “…and can, likewise, be reached most conveniently by pod. More conveniently, you might call us via our own closed network, without the need to turn on your holopad signal and be bombarded by calls and messages from outside, as we understand that privacy is often of great importance to our guests. On that front, I have good news (though it’s definitely bad news if you were hoping to socialise while here(!)) While FCRS has more than 100 suites and is growing in popularity, you share this plateau with only one other suite which, as of the moment, is unbooked for the duration of your stay! This means, Mr and Mrs Taylor, that you will have as much privacy here as you choose! If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the suite itself, give you the safety instruction and then I’ll leave you to it!”

“Al…right?” says the mouthwateringly goodlooking himbo, his dark bagged eyes narrowed.

I turn and walk down the slope to the top of the carved stone ramp.

I walk to the bottom and stop, turning around to explain to the pair “In Winter, it would be necessary to have two doors engaged in an airlock system here to stop the entire suite massively dropping in temperature every time either of you entered or exited. As it’s Summer currently, we have not engaged the airlock but you may do so from the suite’s control panel if you wish. It only depends on what matters more to you, getting in and out quickly or keeping the interior temperature at your level of comfort!”

“Makes sense.” nods the redhead.

The door opens and I turn around to step through.

“Wow… definite Bond villain vibes here(!)” quips the man upon seeing the suite’s open plan livingroom and kitchen that stretch away to our left.

“Very much so, Mr Taylor(!)” I chuckle.

Luxurious furnishings sit atop imported, rich red stone flooring.

The high, vaulted ceilings are just the bare rock of the cliff the suite is excavated into.

The far wall is lined with floor to ceiling windows that look out over the barren, rocky valley hundreds of metres below.

“If you’ll look this way…” I say, gesturing to the wall on my right as I reach the base of the ramp “…you’ll see your luggage sitting on the lift that carried it down from up top. Next to it, you’ll see a fullbody styliser for any hair styling and makeup needs you might have while here. On the other side, you’ll see a tailoriser for any garment and footwear needs and beside that…” I point to the cubic metre cavity in the wall “…you’ll see an extralarge nanoforge for any props etc. you might want to print while here… If you wish for anything too large or in any other way difficult to print, you can call the reception desk and I or a colleague will check our storage for something matching your parameters which can then be delivered to you by pod. If you’ll follow me this way, I’ll show you the suite up here first before taking you down for the briefing on the main attraction!”

I walk left, past a mirror, hung on the far wall from the window, and stand with my back to the ramp down.

I gesture out at the lounging area in front of me and say “I’m sure you both know how livingrooms work so I won’t waste time explaining that(!) I would just like to put your minds at ease regarding the windows.” smiling at them as they catch me up “Those are octuple glazed panels of transparent polymer, so th...

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The steam engine’s whistle grew more ragged and frantic just before the boiler exploded, the thunderous boom punctuated by a shower of molten metal and still flaming pieces of coal. 

“That’s your distraction?” Zeb yelled as they dove into an alley to get away from the crowd of fleeing passengers.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Yelena said, her long legs making her run more like an elegant lope. Everything she did seemed effortless to Zeb, and he felt slow and stupid in comparison.

“What about the fire?” Mimi said, huffing and puffing as they ran. Her gait was awkward as she held onto her skirts with one hand to keep from tripping.

“The firestealers will absorb the energy of the flames, and the waterstealers will cool things.” Yelena said as she led them closer to the edge of the oasis and the desert. “It’ll be fine.”

Brightnight Oasis was exactly equidistant from Zingiber and the capital, Kurotowa. The water from the oasis fed the locomotives that rushed through the Hohl desert as well as supported a small railroad town of inns, taverns, and other less savory establishments. By blowing the boiler, Yelena had guaranteed that everyone was going to be stuck for at least two days.

Circling around the outer edge of the oasis, they made their way back towards the rail yard, the moonless night and endless desert masking their approach. Zeb could hear the chanting of the firestealers as they siphoned the energy out of the fire, weakening it.

A few meters from the rear of the train, Yelena held up a hand and they stopped. Leaning against a building Zeb caught his breath, while Mimi was doubled over panting. Zeb reached out, but she held up a hand, stood and swallowed. “I’m all right.” She said, controlling her breathing. “Guess I need to get up from my desk more often.”

Yel scowled, and Zeb felt a pang of guilt. He wasn’t sure why, but right now the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. “Mims will be fine.” He said quickly, and Mimi nodded, as her breathing finally regulated. 

“Then let’s get moving.” She said as she reached into her cavernous bag and pulled out three uniforms, made in the inexpensive blue of the Z-K Railway. So long as nobody looked too closely, the three of them now looked like they belonged there.

The train had been evacuated after the explosion; the passenger cars in the rear were completely empty, newspapers and half eaten snacks strewn about. Yel strode forward confidently, like she belonged aboard. Mimi followed behind trying her best to match Yel’s body language and only coming across as slightly awkward. Zeb took up the rear and kept looking behind them as they moved from car to car. 

“Stop looking behind so much.” Yel said, not turning back. “You look shifty, Zeb.”

“I’m just keeping an eye out for the railway bulls.”

“The cops are up with the rescue squad and the crew, trying to contain the fire. The first two cars were carrying paper, so even the firestealers have a handful right now.”

“How did you know the cars had paper?” Mimi asked as she hopped over a coupling between cars.

“Because I read the manifest, Mims.” Yel shook her head. “It’s like you two have never done this before.”

“We haven’t, not really.” Mimi said as they continued up the train. “You know that I just play cards, and Zeb… is Zeb.”

“Hey!” Zeb said, affecting a hurt tone. “I’ll have you know I’ve done plenty of crimes. Crimes so amazing that if anyone had ever heard about them - which they haven’t - there would be songs about me.”

Both Yel and Mims smiled at Zeb’s defence. The reality was that Zeb was mostly an opportunist thief, taking small things here and there when he saw an opening. He never was one for things like planning.

Finally, they reached the vault car, just about in the center of the train. Unlike the ornate passenger carriages and the utilitarian freight carriages, this car gave off an impenetrable aura. Painted brick red, the riveted iron plates were designed to intimidate. As Yel approached the door she stepped to the side and gestured grandly. “Okay Mims, it’s your turn.”

Mimi put on a set of double spectacles and bent low towards the lock, puzzling over it for a moment. “It’s a Halford TiteLock.” She tisked as she reached into a pocket on her belt and took out a tool roll. Selecting a rake and a turner, she slid them into the keyhole. “Good to see that even with all that money, Harry Waterford still buys from the lowest bidder.” Zeb had always thought Mimi’s hobby of lock-picking was odd, but she had explained that it was calming for her. It occupied her hands and allowed the whirling dervish of her brain to slow and focus. She fiddled with the lock for only seconds before Zeb heard a click and the turner moved. “Got it!” Mimi carefully put her tools away and stood, grinning. “Easy.”

“All right Mims,” Yel said and clapped her on the back. “I might have more work for you after this if you want. You’ve got a real knack.”

“It’s a skill,” Mimi said, raising her eyebrows at Yel. “Like any skill, all it takes is practice.”

“Well, not everyone has the patience to be a lock-picker,” Yel said as she slid the door open and they stepped into the dark carriage.

It reeked of paper, a musty, inky smell. Zeb couldn’t see anything, but he could feel the walls, thick and bulky, pressing in. “Remember, we’re just here to only grab what we can carry,” he said, whispering, even though they were alone. “We can’t be greedy.”

“The fact that you came in here at all is an indication to the contrary,” a voice said as the overhead lights snapped on. 

Squinting against the bright lights, Zeb’s eyes resolved the image in front of him slowly. The first thing Zeb noticed was the gleaming pistol leveled at them with a steady, almost casual hand. From that, his eyes moved up towards the smartly tailored suit and finally to the bearded face whose portrait watched over every railway station in the Z-K system. 

Harry Waterford, owner of the Z-K Railway and richest man in Kurotowa himself sat in the wooden swivel chair, regarding them. “Hullo Yelena,” he said, not unkindly.

“Sea and stars above,” Yel swore, and stood straighter. “Lo, Harry. How’s the misery business?”

“You know better than anyone I’m not in that business,” Harry said firmly. “I facilitate, I enable. Sometimes I lubricate. Other times-” he gestured with the pistol, “-I solve problems. Now then,” Harry said and picked up a snifter of brandy off the desk and took a sip of the amber liquid while still holding the pistol pointed at them. “Indulge my curiosity. Why are you robbing me?”

“Er, Mr Waterford we, that is to say I-” Mimi stuttered. Zeb saw her knuckles turn white as she squeezed her hands to stop the shaking.

“Spit it out dear,” Harry said and moved the pistol away from them, but did not put it down. Zeb wondered about that pistol. Mr. Waterford was rumored to be a starstealer, powered by the night sky itself.  “We don’t have all night.”

“I needed the money to pay back the loans I took out from the Ndrangheta.” She was rushing as she spoke, trying to get the words out as fast as possible.

“Gambling debts? How pedestrian.” Harry said and leaned forward. “But, that’s what? A few thousand marks? Why rob a train?”

“I, er, I also owe sixty thousand marks to the bund,” she said quietly. 

Yelena’s head snapped over to Mimi and her mouth opened slightly. “You what?” she said. “You never said you owed the bund money. Did you know this Zeb?”

“I knew she owed money, but not how much,” Zeb sighed. It had been the topic of many late night cry sessions in the last few weeks. Though he was surprised Mimi hadn’t told Yelena.

“I couldn’t come up with the Ndrangheta’s money, and they wouldn’t lend me anymore, though they did offer to extend the terms of the loan and give me more time to pay it back in exchange for certain… things.” she shuddered. “The bund was happy to lend me money, but when I lost the last tournament they weren't as kind; I’m three months in arrears.”

Mimi was a phenom when it came to cards; Zeb could barely follow her logic when he watched her play Schnapsen, and he knew she played for money sometimes but, “sixty thousand marks, Mims?” He said quietly.

“It was a sure thing.” Mimi pleaded, tears in her eyes. “They cheated, I know they did, but the bund won’t hear of it, and if I don’t pay them by the end of Newsummer then…” She straightened her back, and locked eyes with the tycoon, her cheeks wet. “Then, you might as well just shoot me now and get it over with.”

“It is the most expedient solution,” Harry admitted. Before he could bring his weapon back to bear on them, previously unseen lines in a fractal geometric pattern glowed magenta on Zeb’s skin. 

With his eyes flaring like a dying star and with his voice like a choir Zeb said, “We are not dying tonight.” and he thrust his hands out, sweeping them in large gestures. 

Mimi, Yelena, and Zebediah appeared one meter off the ground in a dark warehouse and unceremoniously fell to the dusty floor.

“Ow,” Mimi said and inhaled through her teeth. “What ha-”

“You’re a soulstealer.” Yelena gasped, her bruises ignored. “That magic is forbidden for good reason.”

Most practitioners gather their power from elemental energy. The usual things: fire, earth, water, air, and starlight. But there is another source of energy, dangerous, and potent. The souls of people contain unimaginable amounts of energy, more than enough to keep them tethered to this plane of existence for their entire lives. Soulstealers tap into t...

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The Fakra’s aggression mattered very little to me, so long as they didn’t distract me from what I was scrambling to figure out. I tried to input a resuscitate command to her nanobots, but got an error that it wasn’t found. I tried to undo the kill command, and that wasn’t the way either. Anger boiled in my blood as a gun was jabbed hard into my temple, interrupting my work. They dared—if she died for good because of them, I’d rip this place apart! 

Sofia raised her hands, as the soldiers ordered us to lay on our bellies. “We’re not your enemy! We all need to work together here, or the whole multiverse will end.”

“Corai!” I screamed, desperately inputting commands as the Fakra tried to kick me off of her.

“Last warning, human. Back away from the Elusian or your brains will be painted on the wall,” a soldier grunted.

Mikri hurled himself at the Fakra who threatened me, wrapping his arms around his neck. “I will make you bleed every color of the rainbow, and use it to paint a postcard campfire droplet by droplet, if you so much as begin to act against him!”

“Oh yeah?” The Fakra’s buddies pulled Mikri’s arms apart with raisers, and threw him to the ground. “Stupid machine!”

“The dumbest,” said a stern, tired voice, which I recognized as Velke’s. “Robot, what did you think you would accomplish?”

Mikri beeped with indignation. “They put a gun to Preston’s head and threatened to blow his brains out! I am not the dumb one this time. I will not stand idle while my friends are in danger, ever!”

“Fuck’s sake, don’t kill them if they don’t make you! You can’t question dead people.” The Marshal shot a withering look at his soldiers, who got the silent message to release Mikri. He inspected the unconscious Takahashi, then knelt beside where I was spamming Corai with guesses of commands. “What happened to you lot? Never mind. Come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I revive her!” I wept, digging my fingers deep enough into Corai’s chainmail that I broke several links. “I powered her brain off with nanobots, but I can’t wake her back up. Velke, please…you know she’s different!”

The Fakra leader pressed skeletal fingers to his chin, and a silent look of concentration entered his eyes. Through the lens of augmented reality, I could see Velke input a command to Corai’s network: Initiate Neural Electrical Activity. Of course, he’d study the inner workings before he ever would’ve used it in transit. My heart lodged in my throat, worried that it might have been too long to work, as the prompt ran for several seconds without any response. Panic set in at the thought of losing her, after all of that. 

What if I really did kill Corai, and that’s the last thing she ever thought? She didn’t deserve to die like this! 

…Success.

My head fell onto Corai’s chest, as she stirred weakly, weeping into her nanobot chainmail while spamming mental thank yous to Velke. It wasn’t ideal to be in the Fakra’s clutches, but I’d warped to the exact right place to get help for her. The Elusian looked confused to be reawakened, but a blistering rage filled her eyes once she looked at me. Every bit of metal in the room was commanded to her masterful fingertips, coalescing into blocks. She slammed them into my head like a muzzle, throwing me backward and encasing me against the far wall.

I groaned from the impact, unable to speak. “Corai, you’re safe! I’m so relieved you’re alright. Put me down.”

“Safe? You delivered me to…you’re a monster!” Corai paid zero attention to the Fakra soldiers, stalking toward me with absolute hatred in her eyes. She twitched her fingers, causing blocks of metal to jam up by nostrils and suffocate me, scraping near my brain. “I let you kill me, and that wasn’t enough? Why did you bring me back? You couldn’t live with what you’ve done—oh, it’s a little too fucking late for that. You take away the reason I finally had to want to be here—all a lie—then bring me back into this cursed world?”

“I saved your life! I’m so sorry.” Struggling to think, I forwarded the memory of the attack on Suam, only to have it rejected on the spot. “I’d never hurt you, Corai; I love you! All I care about is that you’re okay…I did the best I could. I understand how this looks to you, but you have to want to know how I really feel. Please, just see what really happened. Please!”

The Elusian sealed her eyes shut, warring with herself; I struggled to breathe with my airways clogged, as the world went fuzzy. I tentatively extended the file transfer again, and after a long pause, Corai accepted it. My girlfriend (at least I hoped she’d still be) stared at me for some incredibly long seconds as my vision blurred, before the nanobots constricting me loosened enough that I could breathe a little. Her gaze eventually softened, as she got to the end and fully understood, though her eyes watered with heavy tears. It didn’t change the fact that her species was…being hunted to extinction. 

Corai flicked her fingers, and the nanobot prison holding me dissolved. I stumbled over to her, wrapping my arms around her and relishing the warmth of her beating heart. She’d been so cold when I carried her. The Elusian pressed her palm into my scalp, before pulling back with a guilty grimace. She avoided eye contact, looking as though she might drop dead again right here. I wondered if she was upset that I’d killed her so easily—that was fair. I should still apologize.

“I know I’m super rash and all, and I should not just assume there was a reason for something crazy like ‘Kill her’ popping into my head. But I had no time to try to save your life, and I didn’t know what I was dealing with, and I panicked—I never want to lose you, Corai. I’d sacrifice everything for you,” I rambled into her mind. “I know I failed at communicating, but I didn’t fail at saving you and you’re still here; I just really love you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I’m an idiot.”

Corai jolted with surprise, then gave an emphatic shake of her head. “What?! No, I’m the one who’s sorry. For me to think you, and all of humanity, were capable of such a thing. I know you, and I say I trust you with all my heart…”

“I literally tried to kill you without saying a word. There’s not many interpretations of that. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but now I see why the precog said so. That’s the only way you’d survive a 5D weapon. Humanity had fuck-all to do with it.”

“Yes, and I’m glad that humans weren’t the culprits. I’m just…having a little trouble wrapping my mind around it being our AIs, and all of the dead people back home. Am I one of the last Elusians now?”

“I imagine those silversheens hit every major settlement at once. A decapitation strike. So probably. I’m really sorry.”

Corai laughed bitterly, as tears streamed down her face. “We were so wrong about the prophecy, but in our arrogance, believed we had to be right and in control of our future. I see humans’ role now. You’re the only ones who can make it so anyone survives the ruin we brought upon you, with the AIs carrying on that same nihilism we taught. I don’t know how you stand a prayer against them.”

“You’ll help us. You see now—none of this was your fault! None of what we did played any bearing in the outcome, so exorcise that guilt! I mean, I can’t imagine how much devastation and loss you’re feeling; wait, actually, I can. I remember how I felt after the Space Gate battle, when it seemed like Sol was gone, and I know you remember it too. I’m sure you feel like you lost everything, but you still have me…if you want me. I, um…”

“You’re the only thing that might keep me going, Preston: my sweet Preston. I can’t believe I thought you to be a cold-hearted murderer, and your forgiveness only shames me more. I don’t know if I’m grateful that my life was saved, honestly, but I’ll try to be. For your sake. I’ll be there for you and all humanity when it matters.”

I grabbed her hand and pressed it close to my heart. “We’ll be here for each other. I want you in my life always, no matter what. My love for you is the realest thing I’ve ever known. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you.”

“You would’ve been free.”

“No. I’d have lost the only one of my dreams that ever came true.”

The Elusian offered a sweet smile, and in that moment, it didn’t matter that we were in a hostile alien base. Even Mikri, the most jealous of tin cans, looked on happily; he’d seen how losing her hurt me, perhaps on a degree even greater than what he felt when we were in danger. I knew that Vascar wanted what was best for me. It meant so much to me that I had finally come through and protected someone I loved, instead of being ineffectual and a disgrace. Her fate was ambiguous, and it seemed I’d found the path where I didn’t lose her.

Velke gave a slow clap, a sardonic glint in his eyes. “That was a fine performance, but showtime’s over. You’re going to come with me and tell me what the fuck is going on! You abandoned us, just like ...

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Back aboard Tontine, Alia paced her rooms. She had decided to keep the Suite that Viv had given her, mostly to keep all of the other officers from having to move their room assignments around. She had ordered the front receiving room to be turned into a conference room, so at least part of her suite was returned to the ship.

“Tontine, what did you learn from Alternative Solution about the assassin?” Alia said walking back and forth. She smiled at the memory of Colonel Matiz back on Earth chiding her for the habit.

“Alternative Solution reports that there had been three such assassination attempts in the last eighteen months, but that this most recent one was the only one to actually reach Eternity. The other two were caught well before the palace. Before they perished under advanced interrogation, they had all mentioned the name Icarus; a suspected anti-Eternity terrorist group.”

She remembered 585 mentioning them while brushing off the attack. There was an anti-Eternity group who had enough resources to make a run at Prime Eternity herself? Alia realized that it was possible that she might not have to start her rebellion over again from nothing.

“Please make quiet queries at every station and ship we visit to see what more you can learn about Icarus, including ways to contact them.”

“With all due respect Alia, if it were that easy to contact Icarus, Prime Eternity would have exterminated them long ago.”

“I’m not expecting a name and address, Tontine.” Alia frowned. “Just anything you can find. Tidbits, hints.”

“Yes Alia.”

Just as Alia sat back down and picked up her rapidly cooling tea, there was a chime and Tontine said “You are requested in command by Major Tonnlier.”

What could Viv need now? Aloud she said “Tell her I will be up shortly.” She was the new person here, there shouldn’t be anything that she needs from Alia for the day to day operation of the ship. If it was an attack then action stations would have been called already.

When she arrived at command, Viv turned and immediately looked relieved. “Oh thank Eternity you came quickly,” Viv said, and offered Alia the command chair. “You should probably see this.”

Deciding to ignore the fact that Viv just gave thanks to her, Alia sat and as she did, found ship details and statuses overlaid on her vision. Tontine had received an audio only message from a nearby planet. “Any ships in the vicinity, this is the human colony Maplebrook requesting emergency assistance. Our oxygen plant is failing, and without repair in a few days, we will not have sufficient breathing gas for the colony. Emergency assistance is requested.”

The message repeated a few times, and Alia looked up at Viv. “Well?” She said. “Have we set a course for Maplebrook?”

“That is why I called you up here.” Viv said, and Alia saw how she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Normally, we are to ignore requests for aid like this; requests are to be sent through normal channels up to the baron of this sector. All colonies know this.” She added.

“But you heard the message,” Alia said. “They’re going to suffocate unless they get their oxygen plant back online. How long does it take for the Barony to reply and render aid?”

“If their request for aid is approved, then usually the next round of supply ships will bring parts and technicians.” Viv said. “It’s never more than a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? They’ll all be dead by then!”

“I don’t think so,” Viv said, and continued, “The colonies - especially the outer frontier colonies have a reputation for calling for aid whenever anything breaks. If I were still in command, we would have passed along the request for aid to any merchant ships in the area and continued on, but since you’re here…”

“You thought that I would want to go help. You are correct, good instincts Viv. Helm, change course for Maplebrook, best speed.”

The helmsman called out, “Course set for Maplebook. Time to arrive is estimated to be three hours.”

“Send down a request to Engineering looking for anyone handy with colonial oxygen plants, and barring that anyone who is technical and loves a challenge.” Alia said as she stood. “Viv, come with me.”

They went to a small conference room just down the corridor from command. Alia closed the door quietly and gestured for her to sit. Viv sat carefully, sitting straight, and Alia could swear she had a slight sheen on her forehead.

“Genevieve.” Alia said, sitting down. She tried to ignore that Viv flinched when she called her by her full name. “Firstly, I wish you weren’t so nervous when we are talking. I’m not going to hit you, or send you off to who knows where, or shoot you, none of that. I’m not my sisters.”

Viv relaxed very slightly.

“However,” Alia said and had a twinge of satisfaction that Viv stiffened again. “While I am in command, we will be doing things my way. I help people whenever I am able, wherever I can. That is how I was trained, how I was developed.”

“Yes Alia, that’s why I called you up. It was-” Viv struggled slightly “-odd to not just pass their message along, but as I am supposed to execute your will, I knew that you would want to see this.”

“You are correct, thank you, Viv.” Alia said, and Viv relaxed visibly. “Now then, do we know anything about Maplebrook?”

“Maplebrook is a young colony, two Sol years old.” Tontine said, answering for Viv. “Launched in E3054 on the order of Eternity with Baron Cecil Aubergine heading the construction and launch of the ship. Previous scans indicated that the planet was rich in mineral wealth, and a leasehold was granted from Eternity with the promise of regular shipments of minerals.”

“Minerals?” Alia said. “Why such a generic term? What kind of minerals?”

“The planet is rich in Uranium, Iridium, and most of the lanthanides. Specific quantities of specific minerals were not a part of the leasehold.”

****

“Why a Leasehold?” Alia asked the administrator as they sat across each other on his station in orbit.

The administrator looked at Alia oddly, his eyes flicking up to Viv looming behind him, her face stony. “This is a test? Of course! You - that is to say Eternity - owns all systems and planets within the human sphere of influence. We all lease our land from Eternity.” He took a breath, and let it out, slowly. “I can only hope that I have given you the answer you were looking for.” As he continued to exhale, it turned into a cough and he took a sip of water.

The fact that she didn’t roll her eyes at the statement was an indication of Alia’s strength of will. Here, she was Eternity, and nobody would dare to ask her number. She spoke with the same weight as her sisters. “Yes, thank you administrator Lavellen.”

“Of course, when Tontine signaled that they were coming to render aid, we were nearly knocked speechless. The Eternal Navy never responds for an aid request. We had pinned all of our hope on some tramp freighter hearing us and coming by. And to have Eternity herself aboard! Truly, you honor us with your presence, and we are not worthy to host you.”

“Administrator Lavallen that’s enough.” Alia said, trying to affect a genial tone. “I know that my visit is irregular, but I’m not here for you to spend your entire time bowing and scraping at me. My engineers are down on the surface working to repair your oxygen plant and I am here only to see how things are.”

“Er, yes Eternity.” The administrator coughed again and looked around awkwardly, desperately trying to come up with something to discuss. “Would you like a tour?”

One could hardly call it a station. It was mostly still a colony ship, down to the nulldrive still deep within, and more than half of the colonists in hibernation. Only enough people that could be supported had been thawed. As the colony grew and the overhead increased more people would be added until the original compliment was awake. Those aboard were staff mostly to keep the ship operational and medical personnel to wake colonists. Everyone had the same cough as the administrator.

“If you haven’t finished the work of setting up the colony completely yet,” Alia asked as she stared up at the rows of hibernation cabinets, so very like her own, “Why are you mining already? Would those people be better put to use-” She gestured “-building the colony?”

“Ideally yes, Eternity, of course. But we must adhere to the terms of the leasehold. We are to be providing one million tonnes of processed mineral wealth every month. That takes time that we could be spending building.” He quickly added, “Of course we are still building and expanding, but as you know, the terms come first. We must pay back Eternity-” He was suddenly wracked with a coughing fit for a few second before composing himself, “-for this opportunity.”

“Are you all right?” Alia asked, genuine concern in her voice. “I notice that you and everyone else here has a cough.”

“It’s nothing,” He said, clearing his throat again. “We all have a minor virus, it’ll clear up in a week or two.”

“Surely your medical personnel can help with a small viral infection spreading around? Your weakened state must be effecting production.”

“No!” He said quickly and coughed again. “No, our production remains on schedule, and we are se...

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The hollow click echoed off the tiles. A high, predatory sound, an insect’s chitter. The magazine was empty.

She was still coming. She towered to the ceiling, her eight-limbed body glistening in the low light. Venom and ropy digestive fluids dripped from her fangs.

Nothing for it. Captain Kane Ulyanov rolled beneath a fallen ceiling beam, and he dug out his last vial of Dirt, and he shoved the injector into his outer thigh.

The dose might kill him before the spider did. The drug was called Dirt for a reason. It was a reference to death. Someone mentioned the phrase ‘dirt nap’ or ‘six feet of dirt’ and the name stuck. Already there had been a deep ache below his floating ribs these last few hours. His adrenal glands were swollen. Someone was yelling on comms, but his brain no longer parsed language. He understood one or two words at most.

The drug coursed through his bloodstream. His heart accelerated, his muscles engorged. The readout on his left suit sleeve said 200/110, heart rate 160, adrenaline level 1000ng/dl, brain activity moderately compromised. He wasn’t sure what any of it meant any more.

Ulyanov rolled out from under the beam. He threw up his fists like they taught him in hand-to-hand combat class. He balanced his weight loosely on the balls of his feet, his legs forming coiled suspension not so unlike hers. She sprang forward, fangs dripping. She was still hungry, still frenzied. All the human bodies snared in webs throughout the complex, and yet she wanted one more.

He threw a combination and perhaps stunned the spider a little, ignoring the crunch of small bones in his hands. At six feet eight, he was just about tall enough to reach the thing’s head.

Loops of webbing shot out. Her jaws snapped shut on his shoulder. By luck he thrashed and kicked his way free before the venom glands engaged and pumped the corrosion in.

Another snap of her jaws drew blood from his left forearm. Time to end this. He wouldn’t get lucky a third time. Ulyanov threw his weight forward and up, latching his arm around the seam of chitinous plates where the spider’s head fused with its chest to form the cephalothorax. Locking his legs around the thing’s body, he twisted onto its back, and he put every ounce of his waning strength into the elbow strike. One. Two. Three. The force of the blow split his right ulna into two shards. Doesn’t matter. No choice. Another axe-blow from his elbow, and finally the spider’s carapace shattered, and it dropped to the tiles as its brain matter spilled.

Ulyanov screamed a command to his failing muscles, and somehow summoned enough strength to wrench himself out from under the spider’s corpse.

The signs on the walls meant nothing now. Letters and numbers were just noise, weighted with no more meaning than static on a screen.

Still his legs remembered where the med bay was. His feet followed ancient subroutines, like a cat pouncing on a rat or mouse. The brain forgets, but bone and sinew understand. His body carried him down the corridor, emptily, mindlessly, like a strip of meat twitching in the pan because that is what meat does when exposed to salt.

And the building’s AI locked onto him via the few cameras still working, and its robotics array engaged, slipping a needle into his shoulder, weaving a cast for his shattered right forearm.

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/SteelTrim on 2025-12-10 07:19:37+00:00.

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It wasn't hard to hear the frantic whisper-shouts emerging from the buildings as lights started flickering on through the windows. The first actual human they saw, though, was a single man who poked his head out the door, all bleary-eyed and half-asleep, only to see the two of them before shrieking and hustling back inside, followed by the sound of him tripping over something and hitting the ground. John wasn't sure what he said after that, but he was sure it was rather colourful and unsuitable for polite company.

He was also unsure whether that man was wearing pants.

"We'll give them three more minutes, then I will start going in and throwing them out into the rain myself," muttered Yuki.

John snorted, shaking his head as he checked his magic supplies. Seems like he was getting a bit low on air aspected mana. Oh, on some level, he was still terrified, and he was damn sure that they were going to pour out of the doors in hordes and then he would have to flee, but he couldn't because they'd be behind him, and then he and Yuki would have to—

Still, seeing one of the men who had driven him to the fringes so long ago terrified and half-awake had demystified them. They're probably not monsters, just assholes, even if he'd prefer never to see any of them again. Strangely, what most people would call 'monsters' seemed to make better company.

Hmm.

Wasn't that a thought? Yuki and Yosuke were both oddities by the standards of the world at large, and they were both good to hang around with, in their own ways. Rin… well, she was less of an outsider, given she was almost certainly part of a noble house, and he had a fair bit more he had to hide from her, as Yuki so kindly reminded him.

"Isn't that a bit harsh? They might not have time to get dressed and will get sick from the cold," John said, listening carefully as frantic shouting started echoing through the strange man's building, several other voices slowly rousing.

Yuki chuckled lowly, her golden gaze landing on him, although she didn't turn her head. "Perhaps some will. They hurt you, John. Do you truly care about them so much that you can't bear for them to experience any discomfort? Look around you. They're well off and will not perish due to it."

John broke first, looking forward once more. "I don't know, it just seems wrong," he admitted. "Perhaps I'm getting soft."

Yuki didn't respond, letting the silence sit between them, although it was not an uncomfortable silence by any means. "I know this gauntlet is weaker, but can you do any more lightning bolts?" she finally asked, after a minute or two more of waiting.

John checked the gauges to confirm before nodding. It wasn't as if these were anywhere near as big as what he levelled against the Nameless, or that Unbound, so they were passably power efficient.

"Would you mind?" she asked, pointing to the sky again.

John shrugged, pointing to the sky. It was nice that his warding mostly dampened the noise and light; otherwise, he'd have long since gone deaf. Thankfully, it was quite a bit dimmer than a full-power one, too, so he didn't need to close his eyes to not stun himself, even with the warding dimming it.

BOOM!

"Time's up!" Yuki shouted, the palpable menace in the air intensifying until it was like a thick blanket lying over everything. "Get out here now before I come in and get all of you!"

"How do we know we'll have all the priests?" John asked. "We don't know how many there are. Surely some could just stay bunkered down and do something?"

Yuki only smiled, and John instantly caught on to her plan. Clever. They certainly protected the buildings with more classical Ofuda, but if they weren't much of a threat to Yuki, there was no reason she couldn't use the excuse to stomp around looking for hints.

Besides, an angry yokai stomping around without hurting anyone was certainly scary, but probably wouldn't be sufficient to justify the deployment of those Unbound lurking on the fringes. Still, something bugged him, almost like a splinter digging into his finger.

Why did she need justification to deploy? She must have been worried about him or others escaping and trying to take her down with them, but the Nameless cordon seemed damn effective with how efficiently they choked supplies from the region. This plan seemed to have an overabundance of caution woven into it, even to his paranoid mind.

By the time he got anywhere of note, she could have easily snagged important figures and used her magic to make them spew any story she wanted, creating retroactive justification. Did the technique have limitations he was unaware of?

A steady stream of men began to emerge from six of the buildings like a leaky pipe after a few drunkenly stumbled forth, most still half-asleep with their clothing improperly put on, if they were even dressed. Thankfully, they seemed to actually use sleeping garments around these parts, doing his eyes a great mercy as he didn't want to see… ten, no, twenty men of various builds nude today.

It was hard to tell if he had seen any of them before. Most of the times that he had run into them, John was not paying the most attention to what they looked like so much as just frantically fleeing from impending pain.

Iron arrows stuck in his leg. The shafts were broken, but the heads lodged deep inside. He just had to reach down and pull—

The fingers on his gauntlet twitched as his arm fought to rise, but he stopped it, and he fiddled with his warding necklace with his other spare hand, making sure that it was well in place and working with a few hard taps against his chest.

The brief flicker of shielding as it protected both his hand and his ribs was enough to ease some of the knot in his chest. Still, he shuffled over to a building and leaned against it, immediately feeling far more comfortable without his back exposed.

It was good they weren't in their priestly vestments. John wasn't sure what he'd do with himself if they were.

"Is this everyone? Who is the head priest?" Yuki asked, eyes scanning over the huddled mass of humanity. They stood tall, but they were close to each other. Too close, like sheep in the face of a predator. John scanned his light over the crowd, the bright flashlight illuminating the men more clearly through the gloom. 

Each shook like leaves in the wind as the light passed over them. Was it from the cold or fear of the kitsune? No. John certainly looked like a vengeful ghost, searching them for whoever wronged him, but he had no plans to take revenge. It wasn't useful and provided no utility, even if there weren't Unbound nearby waiting for a reason to roll in.

The mass of humanity stayed cluttered, even as Yuki's piercing gaze looked over them closely, carefully, like a farmer deciding which of their stock was next to the slaughter. "I will have my answers. Is the head priest among you?"

A chorus of half-whispered answers and shaking heads answered her, and the kitsune snarled viciously. 

"Fine. I'll find him myself," Yuki growled out, and the already chill air felt like it dropped a degree before she angrily stomped off toward one of the buildings that the men had come out of. Of the buildings that housed men, John had seen that two of them held five, then two had three, and the last two had only two people apiece, although he was unsure if this was due to some hiding or if higher rank afforded more personal space.

Yuki stomped up to the first one and threw the door open before continuing inside, her tails lashing behind her like whips. Of course, she could almost certainly hear the heartbeats and breathing if there was someone inside. The priests, however, didn't know that, and it gave her ample cause to root around for anything that felt out of place. Perhaps she'd be lucky and find one of the Ofuda, like what they used around the city. Maybe she'd find something else useful.

This, of course, left John alone with the priests. His whole body tensed as he got ready to fight, thoughts of oozing wounds and terrifying chases through the brush flooding his mind.

His hand twitched, fighting to come up once more, but he forced it back home, hand gripping his leg hard enough to draw blood. He could deal with this. He knew he could.

The men flinched as he panned his light over them again, but it was only for a moment before John checked his angles to make sure nobody was sneaking up on him. He needed something. Just marinating in this silence was going to murder him… or get somebody else hurt, even if it wasn't somebody he cared much for. Why was his body screaming for him to fight?

John felt sick. There had to be some way out of this fugue. Fidgeting, he scanned the crowd once more before locking onto a face. 

"Wait. I know you. You, in the middle with the top knot, come forward, please." The words tumbled out of John before he thought them through, making him wince.

The man flinched, and the surrounding crowd backed away from him like he was bearing a terrible plague. "Me… Sir Unbound?" the man hesitantly asked, stepping forward. He was fairly middling in height, perhaps five feet seven inches, but had a portly build that you more often saw on short and wide people, like s...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/tartnfartnpsyche on 2025-12-10 00:04:14+00:00.

Strange is the life that begins in a culture of poverty and proceeds to attain great wealth. You remember how you used to live, see other people still getting by that way, and feel like an anachronism.

That's the way I felt heading out to meet Fejula Noph, heiress to an ancient but dwindling family fortune and 626th richest person in The Market.

It was September, 3040 CE. My company, Terran Galactic Development, had completed Miss Noph's new house that June. Now I was invited to tour the habitat under the pretense of gratitude and expectation of pure business. She had a new job in mind and TGD would be fools to refuse. So I, as founder and CEO, departed in my yacht for Zardom.

The journey crossed 155 light years and took seven days to complete. My yacht's Gold Tier faster-than-light drive allowed for a direct route; no need to refuel or recalibrate at the stars between departure and destination. Such efficiency and intelligence was lacking in the Silver and Bronze Tiers.

Zardom is much like my home star Gliese 722. Both are G-types a bit less luminous than Sol, making them highly sought-after real estate. And at one time they both possessed an extensive asteroid belt, but Zardom's had been picked apart and reduced to a manicured reserve ring—as is Market procedure.

The Market is curious in that regard. On the one hand they are devoutly lassiaz faire and on the other quite strict regarding the few rules they set. Perhaps their night watchman government, deprived of the powers usually afforded states, craves any opportunity for exercise.

In any case, Zardom's asteroid reserve ring was a beautiful sight upon entering the system. Containing a quarter of an Earth's mass of material and composed mostly of oxygen, silicon, water, aluminum, carbon and iron, it was the perfect blend for construction. We at TGD took full advantage when building Miss Noph's new home.

It was a choice asteroid that we used, having all the material we needed save for one element. After a 52 day journey via Silver Tier drives, six of our work rigs entered the system in March of 3039 CE. Huge beasts those rigs. They bristled with terrawatt mining lasers, valley-sized collection funnels, stadium-sized fusion reactors and refineries large enough to support 21st century Earth. They could have been automated, but I preferred to give people an income. I was on one of the rigs too, watching primordial stone get turned into carbon allotrope beams and aluminum plating. The shell of an oblate spheroid came together.

Miss Noph had come to us the previous year with this ludicrous idea: make her home planet of Pokatan in miniature. We had to turn it into blueprints. The 1/1000 scale structure averaged 13 kilometers in diameter and had three layers: the previously mentioned outside shell strong enough to resist imploding all on its own, followed by a mantle of unrefined rock and, at the center of it all, a hollow core.

Now, if you know anything about space habitats alarm bells are going off. You're questioning why most of the interior volume was filled in. Were we not going to spin it up so that the interior surface—and why was there so little of that—would experience spin gravity? Ah, but you underestimate this design's extravagance.

Gravinium—A plentiful but extremely diffuse element that generates a gravitational field one billion times stronger than its mass would suggest; see also: dark matter.

Whether she hired a fleet of vessels to collect it nonstop or bought a naturally occuring source for a decent percentage of her fortune, Miss Noph had a supply of concentrated gravinium. Our project's portion arrived in December 3039 when the largest tug I've ever seen hopped in with an escort of eight corvettes wielding neutron cannons. The 100 meter diameter gravinium sphere was pushed down the project's 101 meter wide cylindrical access hatch and locked into the hollow core. Gravity source in place, we then began the final task—landscaping.

Pokatan is a water world with a 20 kilometer deep ocean and one single piece of land the size of Australia. Mini Pokatan is a water world with a 20 meter deep ocean and a piece of land the size of Manhattan.

I had performed dozens of inspection orbits upon the project's completion in June of 3040. Three months later and aboard my yacht, I repeated that inspection before landing. I breathed a sigh of relief both times because our company had never done anything like that.

Tau Ceti University handed me a Master's in Habitat Engineering in 2953 CE and I took off the next day for the then-frontier star of Zeta Tucanae. There I found a cylinder habitat, newly constructed and ran by hippies and given the lofty name of Human and Alien Peace Cooperative. The fact that it was colloquially known as HAP-C should tell you all you need to know.

Jokes aside, consider the kind of transactions someone at the edge of civilization can make. I took full advantage, renting out my expertise in exchange for "tokens of friendship."

People aboard HAP-C had me design gardens and tea room expansions. Solward, people had me design a permit-skirting toroidal habitat. The former gave me baskets of fruit. The latter fed me information straight from the Survey Corps.

The juiciest gossip came on October 25th, 2957 when I learned that, just three weeks prior, humanity had made first contact. I was thrilled.

I was practically salivating when I found out that it wasn't just one species, but hundreds of species confederated into a capitalistic minarchist state known as The Market.

Suddenly my species, with its communistic attitude toward all things, wasn't the only player on the block. Now there was a market, The Market, where quadrillions of individuals competed for supremacy. And to get in on the action, all you had to do was register a business.

So in 2960 CE I registered as Terran Galactic Engineering with The Market. Despite the impressive name it was still just me, a 31-year-old man pumping out designs from his picturesque four room cottage aboard HAP-C.

The hippies found out. Not just about the registry, but also all the bribes I'd been taking over the past seven years. So envious were they of my profiting from my stay that they asked me to leave—though not before poaching my nest egg.

After that came my first experience with the giant alien transports called "slum movers." One tenth the cost of a regular interstellar transport with none of the comforts. 10,000 people is the official capacity but I know from experience that 20,000 are found inside one at any time. I would ride them a hundred times during the 2970s on my way to and from job sites. Not until I got the contract for a cylinder in 2982 could I afford to travel the stars in the manner my skill warranted.

I settled down around Gliese 722 in 2985 CE. There I set up permanent shop in a torus habitat of my own design, hired a few extra brains to do the engineering and took on more of a customer relations role.

In 2990 I hired a few hundred hands to do the construction as well and changed our company's name to Terran Galactic Development. It was a rough transition but we were never out of work and by the turn of the millennium I'd hired a few thousand more. After that we received one big contract after another: The Market's trade torus in 82 Eridani, the Hyades Bishop Ring and an entire subdivision of cylinder habitats around 61 Virginis.

Needless to say, the stock was hopping as much as our ships. My portion of Terran Galactic Development was worth a billion Market Credits in 3001 CE. In 3029, days before my 100th birthday, my stock made me a trillionaire.

I thought about my meteoric rise—TGD's meteoric rise—as my yacht touched down. Oh, how much more we had risen thanks to the high profile construction of this ludicrous little world, the newest addition to Miss Noph's menagerie of homes. Did she think I owed her for that? Did I think I owed her? If I owed her then I owed every dispenser of funds. What next, I owed every person I'd ever employed?

My yacht rested on the landing pad like a dragon on a lilly. I stepped out in a 50,000 Credit suit and filled my lungs with the super oxygenated air. Cyan blue water surrounded me as far as the eye could see, but the eye couldn't see very far as the horizon was just 161 meters away. Further transportation came in the form of an electric motorboat, automatically piloted and with heading locked for the only piece of land.

The transoceanic trip gave me ten whole minutes to reflect on the atmosphere we'd developed. Though the gravity was 1.01 gees, the planet's tiny surface area allowed gas to easily slip away into space. The semitransparent membrane we'd installed as a kind of roof was keeping the atmosphere in, but I still thought it was a clunky solution. My arrival at the membrane-scraping shield volcano only strengthened my disdain for the roof.

It wasn't a working shield volcano. In fact it wasn't even made of rock but just another carbon allotrope frame with aluminum plating and a thin layer of basalt—a miniature example of the technique used to build the already miniature planet. More to the point, Miss Noph resided inside.

I stepped through one of the three main doors arranged at 120 degrees to each other. It didn't matter which you went through as they contained identical passages. First was the great hall lit by enormous wall sconces. Next came a sitting room with food dispensers catering to one of the three ma...

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Ke Yin has a problem. Well, several problems.

First, he's actually Cain from Earth.

Second, he's stuck in a cultivation world where people don't just split mountains with a sword strike, they build entire universes inside their souls (and no, it's not a meditation metaphor).

Third, he's got a system with a snarky spiritual assistant that lets him possess the recently deceased across dimensions.

And finally, the elders at the Azure Peak Sect are asking why his soul realm contains both demonic cultivation and holy arts? Must be a natural talent.

Expectations:

• MC's main cultivation method will be plant based and related to World Trees

• Weak to Strong MC

• MC will eventually create his own lifeforms within his soul as well as beings that can cultivate

• Main world is the first world (Azure Peak Sect)

• MC will revisit worlds (extensive world building of multiple realms)

• Time loop elements

• No harem

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Chapter 337: Blood and Bargains

The morning sun entered through the windows of our small courtyard rooms, casting warm patterns across the simple wooden table where we shared breakfast. Wei Lin was practically glowing, not just from the sunlight, but from the unmistakable radiance of a successful breakthrough.

"Pass the congee, would you?" Lin Mei asked, her eyes never leaving Wei Lin as if he might vanish if she looked away. The events of last night had clearly left her shaken, though relief had replaced most of her earlier anger.

I slid the earthenware pot toward her, watching as Wei Lin casually floated a spoon through the air with a flick of his finger. Show-off.

"So," I said, breaking the comfortable silence, "how does it feel to be looking down at us lowly peasants from your lofty Ninth Stage heights?"

Wei Lin grinned, popping a slice of pickled radish into his mouth. "Honestly? Strange. I've spent so long planning each step of my cultivation that suddenly skipping ahead feels... unearned, somehow." He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if testing their reality. "I keep expecting to wake up and find it was just a dream."

"Nothing unearned about it," I countered. "You left the safety of the sect in search for the breakthrough; you nearly died for it."

"Ke Yin's right," Lin Mei added, her stern expression softening. "Though I still think you were reckless." She poked his arm with her chopsticks for emphasis.

Wei Lin caught her hand, his expression growing serious. "I know. And I'm sorry for worrying you. But I don't regret the outcome." His gaze shifted to me. "Both of us having Beyond Heaven-rank methods means our paths are bound to be... unconventional."

I nodded, we shared something that set us apart from other disciples, cultivation methods that defied normal progression, that stretched the boundaries of what was possible.

"It's nice," I admitted, "having someone who won't get left behind." The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how arrogant they sounded. "That came out wrong. I just meant—"

"No, I understand," Wei Lin laughed. "Most Beyond Heaven-rank cultivators end up isolated. Their peers can't keep up, and their seniors see them as threats." He raised his tea cup in a mock toast. "To abnormal cultivation paths and the friends who walk them."

Lin Mei rolled her eyes but smiled. "You two and your secret society of weird cultivation methods."

"Says the woman who combines herbalism and formation arts like nobody else," I replied. "Don't pretend you're normal either."

We continued breakfast, discussing the upcoming tournament at the sect and Wei Lin's plans for his ninth marketplace stall. The comfortable banter felt alien yet comforting, a slice of normality in the chaos of cultivation.

"What are your plans for today, Ke Yin?" Lin Mei asked, gathering the empty dishes. "We should head back to the sect by tomorrow at the latest. The tournament prelims start in a few days.”

I nodded, having already decided my course of action. "I have some meditation to catch up on.”

"We'll be in town gathering supplies," Wei Lin said. "Lin Mei wants to stock up on some rare herbs they sell here in the mountain markets."

"Perfect," I replied. "I'll meet you for dinner, then?"

We agreed on a time, and after helping clear the table, I retreated to my room. As soon as the sliding door closed behind me, I activated a more comprehensive privacy formation than the one I'd used the previous night. This one would not only prevent sound from escaping but would also mask any spiritual fluctuations that might occur during the ritual I was about to attempt.

Taking a deep breath, I settled into a cross-legged position on the sleeping mat and closed my eyes, focusing my awareness inward to enter my inner world.

The Genesis Seed stood proud at the center, its roots spreading outward into the four distinct quadrants I'd so carefully constructed. And there, wrapped in those roots, was Ke Jun's blood statue, crimson and motionless, still under the influence of my Blue Sun calligraphy.

I approached cautiously, studying the statue's features. Even frozen, there was something unsettling about the blood-red sculpture of my supposed ancestor. Perhaps it was the knowledge of what he'd attempted to do to me, or perhaps it was simply the unnatural stillness of something I knew to be animate.

With a gesture, I summoned a small portion of Blue Sun energy, forming it into a counter-symbol to the sleep character I'd inscribed on Ke Jun's forehead. The azure glyph hovered between my fingers for a moment before I sent it floating forward to merge with the original character.

There was a flash of blue light, and the sleep symbol dissolved.

For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the blood-red eyes of the statue opened, focusing immediately on me with unnerving intensity.

"That was unnecessary," Ke Jun said, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance. "And frankly, discourteous."

"Forgive me for not extending the highest courtesies to someone who tried to possess my body," I replied dryly. "Consider it a reasonable precaution."

Ke Jun's expression shifted to one of mild amusement. "Fair enough, descendant. I see you've returned promptly. I take that to mean you've secured what we need for the ritual?"

I nodded, producing the vial of Zhao Xun's blood, though only in spiritual form, a projection of the real vial I'd prepared in the physical world. "Demonic blood from a Stage Eight cultivator, as requested. Fresh enough that it still carries his spiritual essence."

Ke Jun's eyes widened slightly. "Impressive," he admitted. "I expected you to take much longer hunting a demonic beast. Where did you find a demonic cultivator?"

"He found us," I said simply. "He made the mistake of targeting my friend."

"Convenient timing," Ke Jun remarked. "The World Tree Sutra cultivators have always had remarkable luck. Perhaps it's not coincidence but some innate affinity for finding what you need across worlds."

I shrugged. "I've obtained the blood. Now tell me exactly how this ritual works."

Ke Jun's lips curved into a thin smile. "Eager, aren't we? Very well." He shifted slightly within his restraints, the Genesis Seed's roots adjusting to maintain their grip. "The ritual requires three components: the physical setup in your external body's world, the spiritual connection to me within your inner world, and the ethereal projection to the Nexus itself."

I settled cross-legged on the ground before him, prepared to absorb every detail. This wasn't the kind of technique where approximations would suffice.

"First," Ke Jun began, "you must prepare a space in the physical world, ideally circular, with the demonic blood placed at the center of a three-point formation. Use spirit stones at each of the three points to stabilize the energy flow. The formation doesn't need to be complex, just balanced."

"Simple enough," I nodded. "What next?"

"Once the physical formation is active, you'll enter meditation and return here, to your inner world. Then guide your spiritual sense to link with the demonic blood through me, essentially using your connection to me and my bloodline's connection to the demonic arts to create a bridge."

I frowned. "That sounds... intimate."

"Worried I'll try to possess you again?” Ke Jun laughed. “Don't be. The Genesis Seed has me thoroughly contained, and this process creates a one-way channel only. Think of it as borrowing my knowledge rather than my influence."

I wasn't entirely convinced, but I nodded for him to continue.

"The final step is the most delicate," he said, his tone growing serious. "Once the bridge is established, channel the Ethereal Link technique. You'll need to execute it perfectly the first time, there's no room for error when connecting to the Nexus."

"And if I make a mistake?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

"Best case? Nothing happens, and we try again after you recover. Worst case?" His blood-red eyes gleamed. "Your consciousness gets lost between realms, leaving your body an empty shell. But don't worry, that is extremely rare, and your technique only needs to be ninety percent correct. I'll handle the rest."

"How comforting," I muttered.

Ke Jun continued as if he hadn't heard my sarcasm. "Once connected, your ast...

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The weeks leading up to the few days that made up the summer solstice had been a flurry of increased productivity and tension coiling like a spring, wound to its absolute maximum. The factories overproduced to cover the approaching down time, which led to increased stress, but that was now over and done with.

Every taurian on Rincabor had been waiting for this week for the vast majority of the last eight months. Fince watched the clock ticking down to the end of her shift with anxious anticipation along with everyone else. Her job wasn't hard, but the days could be long, and today was feeling as if it were three times longer than normal.

The air was charged with the collected excitement of everyone, and the entire staff of the factory were near silent as they all waited, doing their jobs as required, but none wanting to be there anymore. In all honesty, today was one of the two easiest days in the factory, merely because the vast majority of the machines had been shut down in anticipation of the week of the summer solstice.

Some off-worlders would be brought in to do maintenance in their absence while the staff enjoyed a week of state mandated down time.

"Three... Two... One..." Fince mumbled to herself until a high-pitched klaxon wailed across the factory. It was echoed by other alarms and other klaxons in neighbouring manufacturers and workhouses. What followed was a collective roar that came from the throats of every taurian in the continent all bellowing in excitement over the beginning of the summer solstice. Fince bellowed her own lowing into the chorus, one of many, and many as one.

A week of merriment and partying had begun and no one wanted to be in the factory a second longer!

Fince had deliberately left any belongings she normally brought at home today, as she had no intention of making the journey to the locker rooms before leaving. She joined the throng of thousands of fellow taurians as they raced toward the metro, which would race them into the city proper.

Once more, Fince was glad to not have to go and shower first. She might not be at her finest, but being a camera monitor to watch for dangers meant she was not sweaty or covered in any foul smelling particles like some.

The metro was crammed, but thanks to her forward planning, she'd got there as part of the initial wave and secured a spot on the tram before the crush. Granted by the time the doors closed she was pressed up against the glass of the far side, cheek and chest pressed up as the crush of bodies forced themselves on as tight as possible. There was no such thing as 'personal space' this evening.

A few minutes of high-speed rail and the pressure eased as the crowd disembarked, all of the workers whooping and cheering onto the platform, matched by those already there, already drunk and cheering with them.

The capital city, Cherinbelt, was a typical taurian city and had many advertisements and bright lights, but tonight the adverts were removed and were replaced with messages from their leaders, congratulating the workers on their efforts and declaring a city-wide party had commenced.

The hologram emitters created small ribbons of tape to fall from the sky, landing into the crowds below. Fince reached up and admired how her hand blocked the light, the tape seemingly melting into the leather pads of her hands.

A trio of male voices called out with compliments and teasing words. The crowd of women looked to the side where a series of three males were shouting that the bar they were standing above had just opened before throwing out large circular loops of sewn flowers that looped and hooked on and around the various crowd's horns. Each of the males had a different coloured flower making up their ring of flowers, one being blue, one being red and the final being yellow.

Those who had the male's flowers land on their horn were grabbed by the surrounding crowd and forcefully dragged toward the bar where the female who had received a ring of flowers could exchange them for a drink as tradition demanded. Fince grinned at the whole show, until a ring of yellow flowers landed on her own still growing horns and large, strong hands grabbed the front of her work overalls and began roughly dragging her back towards the bar while the male with yellow flowers briefly gave him a wink, and lifted her head sash for a split second, stunning Fince into submission.

The original tradition was that males who wished to express their interest in a partner would gift the female with a crown of flowers, signalling to others that the female was being courted without the need for the male to say anything that might bring their honour into question. Granted, over time, the various businesses perverted the meaning behind the crowns where in the modern era, the crowns were merely a desire item because they smelt of a male's scent and they could be exchanged at the bar where they would be broken and binned by the tenders so the crown could not be used twice.

For one of the first times in her life, Fince became a minor celebrity at the bar, as one of the very few to receive a crown, the punters each asked her for the crown or offered her something in exchange. Not willing to give away such an item, she exchanged it at the bar and was handed a large flagon of something blue and frothy.

The jostling and body shoving at the bar meant Fince spilt a portion of her drink so moving away she down half of it so the rambunctious crowd wouldn't waste her very first solstice drink.

She stepped from the bar and to the side where the sea of taurians marching back and forth would not crash into her and she could enjoy her drink properly.

Fince was a young taurian. She readily admitted she was lucky in life. She had a good job, had her health and had strong horns, albeit they were still growing. She'd marked herself with semi-permanent ink at the very base of one of her horns and over the course of the last month, a sliver of new horn had moved the ink along the length, leaving a gap between the mark and her scalp.

The concept that she still had some mass left to grow out pleased her, as she wasn't much more or less than the average and these days horns were all that mattered to most. Just because she had read up on the old ways and knew what 'proper' etiquette was, did not mean she was more desirable anymore. At one point in the past, a female with an understanding of male etiquette would have made her more desirable as a suitor than those without.

Sighing at the loss of something she couldn't describe, Fince downed her drink and put the glass on the floor, pressed against the wall before rejoining the throng of people.

It was the same on every Taurian planet and station. Twice a year, on the week of both the winter and summer solstice, it was a planet and station-wide party where both males and females removed their social taboos and put them to the side. It was the two times a year where every male would pair up with at least one other taurian and become one.

In the modern era it was a competition of the women to bed a male and prove they were 'real' women, desirable by men. Anyone who didn't lose their virginity on their first solstice was considered a lesser woman.

Still, trying to chat up a male in one of these bars was going to be impossible. Ignoring the males automatically were granted access to the VIP sections where they had the pick of the crowd, Fince just simply didn't stand out enough.

But she knew something the vast majority didn't.

The town hall was a governmental building which had a selection of rides and stalls outside. Fince ignored it for the most part, realistically it was just a large pop-up entertainment zone for those too young for the city proper while their parents enjoyed themselves. It wasn't somewhere to find a suitor.

Fince marched up the wide marble steps that led to the grand hall and quietly stepped inside. Classic music played and soothed Fince's ringing ears from the deafening noise of the city outside. As she closed the door behind her however, all that remained was the music, that and the dancers.

In the centre of the hall were a series of dancers, a male and a female, dancing in unison as they spun and twirled around one another. The females led and the males followed.

Fince's heart sank to her hooves. They had already begun and the few males that were here had already picked their partners. Their fine gowns and hidden faces were immaculate, not to mention the females wore resplendent finery that made Fince's work clothes appear as if she were a mere janitor.

The sigh that shook her was felt from her horns to the tip of her tail. It was her fault; she went into the bar and lost time when she should have run here.

"It's most impressive, isn't it." Mused a quiet voice to her left. Fince flinched and looked down, seeing a covered male in a full-length gown, matching gloves and a wide brimmed hard, with a veil that hung down as if weighed.

"Sir, apologies for my lack of manners. You are right, they do look wonderful." Fince replied, quickly bowing at the hip in a perfectly practiced formal bow. The covered figure plucked the dress on either side and curtsied. If Fince wanted to commit a grand social faux pas, she might point out that the curtsy was sloppy, instead she chose to revel in the fact she was talking to a male who hadn't been taken yet!

"I must admit, I'm not... versed in the various steps of the dance. When that became known I...

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"He who angers you, conquers you."

-Sister Elizabeth Kenny-

"Advancing on Tockmal. They will not escape again."

The message sent, Lieutenant Steffan ordered his company through the dense forest following the road the little girl had appeared from. He himself had never set foot on Islay until recently, but three of his soldiers had lived in the area all their lives, and were more than willing to scout ahead. His plan was to push toward a farm roughly 300 meters from the village and secure it.

Once that goal had been achieved he would send two platoons out to recon the area focusing one platoon to observe the village from the edge of the woods about 100 meters from the village while the other pushed on an old stone church 400 meters away from the farm and 150 meters north of Tockmal.  If possible, he wanted to advance three platoons into Tockmal and begin evacuations while the platoon at the church set up an observation post, attempt to locate the Dexian force, and provide overwatch in the event of an enemy advance.

Lieutenant Steffan had thought over the strategy several times and considered it sound for the most part. He was aware of his shortcomings, 99 Ceithern against a force of unknown size and disposition which is why reconnaissance seemed to be the best option. He also knew that reinforcements were nearby but would take time to muster, and travel through the night would be slow if they didn't wait to arrive the next morning.

Caution was key.

Light had all but.faded from the sky as Steffan's company halted near An abhainn Ghlas, "Green River" was the most likely meaning, but whispered comments about "his grey milk" filled by muffled laughter were heard. Taking cover in the trees Lieutenant Steffan broke out a map he had been issued and studied the area. The river was narrow, more of a muddy stream which lent credibility to the other translation, and the area along its banks were clear for 30 meters to each side. Not the most ideal crossing, but it was where the stream that flowed through Tockmal ended, which meant they were closing in on their first objective.

From here the road turned Southwest, before crossing the... whatever the river was called, but the clearance to each side was much wider. 45 meters to the road, another 60 meters to the river, and 30 to 40 meters to the treeline on the other side. The only advantage was a bridge over the river where the road turned back west and crossing a second fork before  coming to a crossroad. Lieutenant Steffan considered his options carefully, before choosing to use the road. It would be the fastest route to their intended destination and they were still over a kilometer from Tockmal where the Dexians had been last observed. They did run the risk of crossing an enemy patrol while.caught in the open, so he decided to delay every platoons departure by 5 minutes and hoping for a gap no more than 300 meters.

Every five minute intervals seemed like an eternity and by the time Lieutenant Steffan's command platoon began its march the lead platoon would have made it.to the crossroads. He took some comfort that there hadn't been any small arms fire heard so far and it only took 20 minutes for Second Company to reform at the crossroad. Lieutenant Steffan directed the Company to move north towards a farmstead near the stream road that led to Tockmar. So far they had made excellent time and he assumed they would arrive at the farm an hour earlier than he had planned for.

"Sir, I hesitate to bring this up..."

It was one of the soldiers who had lived in the area, MacDonal, MacDougall...

"What's bothering you?" Lieutenant Steffan asked, still trying to remember his name.

"The sound sir."

"I don't hear any...."

No crickets, no frogs. No owls cried in the night.

"Shit."

Quickly lieutenant Steffan signalled a halt and put half his troops to either side of the road before advancing the two rear most platoons into the trees and moving under cover to the stream.

/////

La'gir watched the dark trees from the dilapidated stone wall at the farmstead turned Obseration post. He had expected to be on the front line, but that had ended when a patrol had discovered several forward observers mounted on two wheeled pedal driven vehicles. Three of the bodies had been carried in for examination, looking for any intelligence that they might have carried. The human scout force had been unarmed and woefully unprepared for such a deep reconnaissance. The patrol gave chase to several who had fled, hoping.to capture them alive for interrogation.

Believing that the position had been exposed, the current command ordered a forced march east under whatever light remained. It hadn't taken long to find the odd looking building with massive windows and a tower overlooking the area. Scouts reported the building empty but a village was situated just to the south. Further east were the ruins of a large building that would make an acceptable place to house the wounded and further east were several farmsteads that could be easily defended.

La'gir was sent to the furthest farmstead out with a company of 24 other troops. Comms hadn't been established yet since they were the furthest out, but a group would be sent in the morning to relieve them.

They just had to get through this night.

Down the road that went into the trees he could just make out some sort of movement. Keen hearing detected the soft sound of footsteps approaching, and he tried to get a better idea of what was coming through a night-vision scope. He couldn't tell what they were from this distance, but they seemed large. He had seen the wildlife on this planet, an antlered animal called red deet or elk depending on who was asked, and they were fond of heavy woods and wetlands. These animals might be some.sort of deer or elk by the way they...

The herd stopped moving around 100 meters down the road, split into separate packs and took to the trees. La'gir felt a cold chill descent from his ear down his sides as his senses heightened. He wasn't certain due to how many of the creatures were out there, but he could have sworn they were bipedal.

Humans.

La'gir watched as they flitted through the trees, a heat signature here, odd appendages there, until they drew up on the stream just across the road he hadn't been certain. Now he could see them clearly, near 50 of them taking cover along the stream. Carefully he reached down by his side and took hold of the cylinder he had been put in charge of while.on watch. He carefully removed the cap before bringing the cylinder down against the wall as hard as he could. The flare rose in the night sky with a shrill that would have woken the dead before popping.loudly and casting light on near 100 humans lurking just beyond the road.

Weapon raised, La'gir let out a shrill cry of warning and opened fire on the treeline.

It was going to be a very long night.

The Battle for Tockmal had begun.

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Chapter 249 – A will of her own

“Attention all units,” it loudly echoed through the halls and rooms of all ships of the fleet after a brief noise of notice had sounded out, causing everyone who was not in the middle of doing something crucial to the ships’ function to pause and look up; hearts or equivalents beating all the way up into their throats as the seemingly endless time of waiting was suddenly interrupted by the calm yet intense announcement. “An incoming message just confirmed: An airlock on the Council-Station has been successfully secured. Prepare for boarding immediately. I repeat. An airlock on the Council Station has been successfully secured. Prepare for boarding immediately.”

Even as it sounded out, everyone listening was well aware that the announcement would only be the first of many and that the pause before it would be repeated was not going to be too long.

Still, all of the ships briefly fell into a deep, almost unnatural silence as every crewmember and soldier aboard kept their heads raised and their ears poised as if they expected more to follow, even as the quiet sound of the speakers cutting out for the time being had already been noticed.

Then, a few breaths later, the crew suddenly burst into movement, everyone immediately picking up the pace to finish whatever they had been doing or, for those who had been idle, to hurry towards assigned stations to finally begin their mission that had already been stalled long enough.

“About time!” some of the eager soldiers shouted out in excitement as they hurried down the corridor right in front of her door, causing Hyphatee to turn her head briefly; listening as the hurrying footsteps slowly got more and more quiet.

“About time indeed,” she thought to herself before returning her attention to the terminal in front of her. Most of her flexible arms pulled back as she used just one of them to order the computer to shut down for now.

Another arm moved to her chest, pressing tightly against the hardened plate protecting it while she listened into herself, trying to calm her racing pulse.

The wait had gone on so long, she was beginning to get worried that a serious obstacle had indeed arisen down on the station, hidden away from their knowledge by whatever strange force that Reprig had appeared to be hinting at during the last call he had given her after…

The coluyvoree sighed, her melodic voice filling the room as she shook her head slowly.

She felt her pulse pick up even more, so much so that she basically felt forced to remain seated for a moment so she wouldn’t put too much strain on her circulation at that very moment.

“What are you doing, Reprig?” she questioned quietly into the empty room.

It still had not really sunken in for her. That last call they had. His words, his...actions…

After so many years, he would suddenly throw it all away. And for what? For the people who had maimed him? People who had brought so much chaos to the galaxy? Who had allied themselves with the ancient enemy of everything that was alive?

He had even gone so far to invite that very danger into their own, private conversation, which only made it sting even more.

And the things he and that thing had said.

For some time, she had wondered if it had even truly been him, or if the Realized had simply found a way to copy him convincingly. Once she had gotten over that sad excuse, she had begun to think if maybe, his words were meant to serve as some sort of distraction. That maybe he was attempting to sow doubt.

However, given how blatant he was with his admissions and his pleas, Hyphatee could simply not imagine, even now, that he would have just been lying to her. And she could not find a good reason for it either.

It was clear that Reprig either could not see or...more sadly...could no longer agree to doing what was necessary, even if it meant making harsher decisions. As much as she wished that it would be the first option, and that a proper conversation would be able to clear things up for him...she knew the deathworlder was no longer the naive recruit she had picked up and roped into their mission once upon a time.

Reprig had proven his mettle time and time again, done things few others could have, and both risked and lost blood and limb for their mission. And he had still kept fighting for it far beyond that.

She could not lie to herself and simply wave off his actions as a sudden blindness to the cause or a newly found lack of fortitude on his part. It was hard to deny that he had most likely truly reached the point where he felt that their ultimate goal was no longer worth the cost.

He had been worn down to the point where he was willing to compromise the future for a small reprieve in the presence, and he chose appeasement over decisiveness.

And still, despite that, she just couldn’t quite believe that he was simply going to blatantly lie to her face. Even if she did not like what she heard, she felt like she had no choice but to take all of it as the absolute truth – at least his absolute truth.

And if he wasn’t lying, and he certainly wasn’t incompetent, that left a very specific question unanswered.

“...was that message meant to reach us?” she wondered, one arm moving up to gently press against the side of her head.

If she took everything Reprig said as everything he believed to be the truth, and he had access to information that she did not, which definitely should have reached these ships one way or another, but most certainly had not reached them anywhere as quickly as it ought to have, then that meant the flow of information was being filtered, censored, coerced, diverted or anything of the like in...one way or another…

Reprig himself had seemed very surprised to learn about that. The same was true, or at least seemed to be true, for the Realized once he had added it to the call.

Of course the A.I.’s words were infinitely less reliable than even those of a turn-side Reprig, but for the sake of caution, Hyphatee was going to take them as truth for the time being as well, including its claims that it was not aware of being the source of said meddling with communications.

Whatever was the cause of it had decided that the information about James and the High-Matriarch was originally worth keeping from the fleet outside, but also that allowing Reprig to contact her was more important than upholding the prohibition on that information.

There was, of course, a large open question when it came to whether said unknown force had any sort of idea about what exactly Reprig’s call would entail, or if it had simply acted on either a calculated risk or curiosity. However, given that she truly had no way of knowing, she decided to leave that space blank for now.

Either way, “it” had first blocked information that was potentially vital to planning from reaching the fleet and then decided to allow that information to at least potentially come through once an additional incentive was applied. Afterwards, it was unclear how much communication, if any, was blocked by the unseen presence.

However, apparently, it had no objection to allowing the message about the conquered airlock to come through – which was certainly a far more important piece of information when it came to creating a plan of action.

So, clearly, whatever was causing it was not seeking to completely sabotage their advancements. If it did, a much easier course would have been to simply block any communication about the airlock and leave the people on the ships to hover none-the-wiser, waiting for a comm that would never come.

On the other hand, it clearly wasn’t unabashedly on their side either, given its propensity to block less vital info that still would have influenced their plans.

Perhaps there was also an argument that it had merely blocked the message about an event that was liable to shake the moral of those on board. After all, not only James seemingly outwitting the High-Matriarch but also his announcement to the station - and what he at the time most likely thought to be the entire galaxy – about both the planned military intervention and the High-Matriarch's ‘final weapon’ and what he believed it entailed were sure to leave at least some people with a certain amount of doubt about what they were doing.

However, that idea didn’t satisfactorily explain all the unknowns either. And, truth be told, Hyphatee just found herself with a much harder time in general believing such an idealist view of the situation.

Whatever this presumable unknown third party may have been, based on her interaction with Reprig and the Realized, it certainly did not seem like it was something that had neatly aligned itself with either side of this conflict – which would also align a bit more with “it” not revealing itself directly to any of the partaking parties.

And if it wasn’t aligning itself with anyone, it would surely play to its own advantage. Which then left the question what its own goals would be-

Suddenly, her train of thought was interrupted as the brief noise of notice once again rang thr...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Lakeel100 on 2025-12-09 23:46:17+00:00.

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—

Movva peered curiously through the door to her ship’s guest room. It was a cabin like any other, with light-grey metal walls, a bed, a window, a little kitchen area, a bathroom… The necessities. But since this was a guest room, it was also slightly nicer than the ones the crew usually got; it had a rug! It also had a lone Tobby unpacking his overpacked luggage. There was one very VERY important question that inquiring minds wished to know..and she was going to ask it “Soooooo… you two totally fucked, right?”

‘Mrrp!?’ He expectantly made a startled trill and stopped mid-pulling out a shirt to snap his head towards her. “Who starts a conversation like that!?”

Movva quickly slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Mmmmme~” she answered with her back to the door frame, and her tongue poking out a little. To borrow one of the many human adages she’d picked up on the job, the pink ambassador wanted ALL! THAT! TEA!! Tobby was her favorite virgin after all, briefly her second favorite thanks to Jek, but she’d already remedied that. She was as invested in team Tobby as the average human was in their local football team. Zero wins and going strong! Airhorns galore! “C’mooon, there’s no way she wasn’t all over you after showing her the duality of Tobreal Centorni~”

“I don't have a duality,” Tobby grumbled, pulling the rest of his tightly folded clothes out onto the bedspread. “And NO! Nothing like that happened.”

Movva squinted, scanning Tobby for one of his countless tells to see if he was lying, and... nothing. “Boo,” she pouted, folding her arms, and her ears lying sideways in disappointment. “Is she just an ungrateful prude or-”

She paused when Tobby stopped unpacking again to glare at her wordlessly. Kitten was not happy with that dialog tree. Let's try something else.

Time to do what she did best, after sex… and violence… And a few other things. Flop on the nearest couch and lazily probe into Tobby’s private life! Put that one psychology class she took to work! Real ambassador stuff!

The guest room also had a pair of small couches around a coffee table she’d bought off a human smuggler, made with real cloned Mahogany~. She easily wrote those off as a business expense because it really ‘set the atmosphere’ for wining and dining political guests. Fumpf! She flopped, ready to get down to business as she put on that casual air. “So you're telling me… You got her, Mrs Kitta’s priceless pre-contact astro-emerald dress.”

Tobby kept unpacking but nodded. Packing his mom clearly did for him, ‘cause there were more spare clothes than colors on Xoso’s rainbow-striped dick! “Yep.”

“Resized it for her, meaning you got some paws-on measurements.” She counted off on a second claw.

“Mmmhmm..”

“Bodyguarded her at an international crime convention.”

“Pretty much...”

“Let her steal your food and got her more when you ran out.”

“You stole my imitation crab, too…” He mumbled, finally getting to pulling out his pants.

“Got her on the dancefloor and tangoed with her so close your whiskers could get tangled.”

“I have no idea what ‘tango’ means…” He commented, pulling out a human sub-machine gun of some sort from the bag, inspecting it, and laying it on the bed next to his clothes

“You taunted her into leading, and when she did, she was ALL up on you with ‘fuck me’ eyes.”

“Pretty sure she was just mad because I wouldn't stop goading her.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a sub Tobby…”

“Mrrp!?” he trilled, tensing like he was accused of something.

“At least until what's his face crashed that super intense moment you were having and totally tongue-blocked the lick your nose was about to get. At which point the switch justifiably flipped, and dark-side Tobby came out swinging.”

“She wasn’t going to lick me, she was just mad… And excited… And please don't say ‘dark side’ like I’m a Star-Claws character.”

“Tobby.” She stated flatly, lying on her side and propping her head up in her hand. “You went from nervous bean to psychotic organ harvester the instant he threatened her.”

“He was going to swing on her, Pinky!” He said defensively, turning to face Movva. “My only job at this event was to keep her away from him. And I'm pretty sure at this point he was setting up to frame her as the attacker!”

Movva continued counting off on her fingers. “You also threatened his life right to his father’s face. Which is why you’re sleeping on my ship for the rest of the Sabu-kai.”

“I... may have gone a little too far there,” he shrank.

“Not far enough, given how hot n’ bothered she seemed by angry Tobby.” She nodded self-assuredly. “Never before had my hopes that you’d finally get some been higher than when I saw her checking you out as you threatened that guy.”

“She was not!” It was starting to smell like denial up in here.

“Oh, correction! Never before were my hopes higher than that moment, until you texted me about the surprise trunk of ice cream you ordered for her.”

“The ice cream wasn’t that big a deal, I told her Mom taught me how to dance with dairy-based bribery. And I meant it. How could I look her in the eyes, having not followed through on that?”

“Like you're doing me… right now… like you're sorry for somehow not rescuing someone's pet spood from a tree fast enough.”

“But…” He had a finger raised like he wanted to make a point, but faltered.

“BUT, you’re telling me that after ALL that, with only a single bed in your hotel room serving one of the greatest porn plot scenarios ever written, she DIDN'T give tiger his first cave?”

There was a long pause from Tobby before he uttered a definitive “... Yes. We shared the bed in shifts since she has a different sleep schedule than I.”

Movva gave him a long, slow blink as she lay there on the couch. “One moment.” She said calmly, before turning her head, burying her face into a decorative couch pillow, and screaming.

T’was the muffled scream of the entire Team-Tobby fanbase having witnessed Tobby somehow reach the grand championships without a single win under his belt. He had the ball within 3 inches of the goal/touchdown/whatever and not a single opponent in his way. But at the last fucking moment, the ref threw a flag, the timer ran out, and there were parking tickets/divorce papers on all their cars…

“Pinky...?” She heard Tobby call out meekly, sounding worried.

This had to be a sick joke. The stars had fucking aligned for spirits' sake, and NOTHING?! Sure was glad he wasn't pants’ pissing afraid of night-kin anymore, but that only made the lack of any cosmic payoff even worse! Then a thought struck Movva… like a bell. Her head sprang up from the pillow. “I’m gonna kick her ass.”

“Wh-what?” Tobby stammered, confused.

She sat up the rest of the way, scowling. “I’m gonna kick her ass!”

“WHAT!? Nonononononoo!” He dashed over to try and physically stop her, but it was too late. He may be a bit stronger than she remembered, but it paled in comparison to the strength of Pinky’s divine justice!

She didn't care how comical Tobby being dragged along the metal floor looked as he clung to her ankles. She was taking one powerful step at a time towards the other guest room where the OFFENDER now resided. Any of her crew who entered the hallway and saw the scene may have giggled or laughed at first, but as soon as they saw the state the captain/ambassador was in, they promptly fled. “Going.. To!.. Kick!.. Her!.. Ass!!” She threatened between huffs.

This had to be HER fault. Movva refused to believe Tobby had so little game as to fuck up the perfect romantic storm! Soapy had to be manipulating him; you don’t get everything Tobby did for her, react as positively as she did, and NOT pay out at the grand finale unless you were just using him!

—

Meanwhile… 12 hours earlier…

Cue Tobby and Soapy sitting cross-legged on the bed in a pair of those plush hotel bathrobes, surrounded by empty ice cream containers, and watching yee-olde massive TV. The door was blocked with a decorative dresser and a flower pot precariously balanced on the ledge in case anyone tried to break in. The balcony curtains were drawn in case of snipers, and the TV was on the second greatest show ever conceived. ‘Kingdom of The Spoods’

Originally intended for kittens, it quickly evolved into a full-blown historical docu-drama series for adults when they realized just how much sex, drugs, and violence history actually contained. The premise was simple: Use the spood’s capacity for mimicry to make them re-enact historical events in miniature while a narrator describes the events. Splash in some cut-aways to Zarmian archeology sites, museums, and ‘experts,’ and you get something that contends with bap-tal season finals for second most popular show on Salafor.

“We so aren't doing everyone's wild assumptions any favors, are we?” Soapy commented, dipping her yay big spoon into the ‘chocolate trinity’ tub she had between her legs. Her eyes still focused on a toga-wearing spood gesticulating before a little stone podium, making an impassioned speech when it suddenly caught an arrow through one of its many tendril legs. **[No spoo...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2025-12-09 23:22:59+00:00.

First

(And today mentally clunked, tomorrow there is a driving lesson too, sorry for all the recent delays.)

RAK and Roll!/Shadows Over Centris

She hangs up after the call and considers.

It is very, very hard to just hate someone when you see them holding their children and looking both so happy and so lost on what to do.

She looks to the picture on her wall and... the fury comes for what they took from her. But it’s not as hot, not as sharp and ragged. But it’s still there. She needs some kind of angle. Some way to get at them. Last attempt apparently made them stronger if the Njyhd hanging around them was any indication. But how do you weaken someone that turns danger into advantage?

She will have to think. Have to watch. And have to consider.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Danwin’s Mercy Hospital, Maternity Ward, Centris)•-•-•

“So... how much have you two actually read into Greek Mythology?” Garos asks as he uses his wings and hands to play with all four of his new granddaughters at once.

“We saw that movie about Hercules!” Nikka says and Garos blinks.

“And?”

“And we looked into the family. They looked so pretty, all shiny friendly. We want our little girls like that!” Nitta says and Nikka nods in agreement. Koa’s is mouthing the word abort.

“And you saw nothing else about it?”

“There was a show where a guy was playing Hercules. But it didn’t make sense. In that he was one of Zeus’ other wives sons in that one and Hera really didn’t like him for some reason. But that doesn’t make any sense! She’s head wife! He’s basically her kid anyways!”

“Oh! And there was with that Xena woman! That was cool! She had this big bladed disk weapon she could bounce off things to fight with!”

“Not enough hunky guys in that one though, it was better when she and Hercules teamed up.”

“Yeah but it still didn’t make sense. She and her friend weren’t going for Hercules or his friend so were they like, related or something? Is that why Hera is mad at Hercules? Did they get into a fight and is Xena the favourite?”

“Can I borrow this pillow?” Amadi asks pointing at an extra pillow on a chair.

“Sure.” Nikka says and Amadi smiles before grabbing it, shoving his face in it and howling with muffled laughter.

“Okay. Continue.”

“What?” Nikka asks. “Oh is this some kind of... oh! Right! It’s from Cruel Space so there’s something weird going on, the girls there can’t share.”

“Yes that is... part of the issue.” Amadi says with a very well controlled poker face. Reggie waves his hand in front of it and dispels the illusion to show he’s holding in a painful amount of laughter.

“Well?” Reggie asks leaning his face in close. Amadi is not saying a thing. Until they’re side by side. “They’re not wrong.”

The sound of air escaping slips out of and Amadi turns around to hug him and laugh into his shoulder as Reggie holds him up.

“What?” Nikka asks. “You just said we’re not wrong.”

“Don’t worry, like I said before, he has an overdeveloped funny bone.” Koa says.

“What am I missing?” Anaris whispers to Reggie.

“Pretty much all ancient Earth Pantheons had a huge amount of the stuff Nitta nd Nikka consider Icky. The exceptions are few and far between, and even in those exceptions you can interpret it pretty badly.”

“Like?”

“One of the main exceptions claims that humanity began from two people. Meaning the whole human species is horrifically inbred, and that’s the tamer stuff.” Reggie says.

She rests her head on top of his.

“That would explain some things.” She says in a deeply amused tone.

“And what does that mean?” Amadi asks amused.

“Excuse me? Is this where the Jackson family is growing?” A new voice asks and the crowd shifts to see... what looks like a Cloaken, but with a near Cannidor level frame and a massive neck hole in her clothing. She is carrying a tiny bundle that contains a tiny serpent head poking out and stretching to look out at them.

“Sorry about this.” Another voice says and a handsom man with stark white eyes, a blue diamond in his forehead and a pair of red slashes below each eye steps out.

“Mister Jameson?”

“Jameson the younger. Or Saint Redblade. Harold is best.” He says with a grin.

“And what are you doing here? You don’t really know us.” Reggie asks.

“My wife is... a little off balance and wants to see other human born children. Apparently there’s something up or off with all of my brother’s and she wants to see if it’s universal.”

“I didn’t say it like that.” Velocity says.

“It was more implied. Still, if we’re intruding...”

“It is a little crowded, so make it short.”

“I’m sorry about this I... I’m the first. The first of my species to bear a child and... I just... It’s so much.” Velocity says as she lets herself fade into visibility. Amadi lets out a whistle.

“Weren’t you pastel pink with white offset and red markings?”

“How do you know that much detail?” Velocity asks.

“I’m an illusionist. I pay attention to details like that.”

“So you notice the colour and not the fact that she’s now muscular enough to pick you up and hurl you like a Frisbee with minimal Axiom?” Reggie asks.

“She looks normal to me.” Anaris says with a shrug.

“Have we? Wait, what? Oh joke. Okay.” Velocity says. “Can I see the babies?” Velocity asks.

“Nitta, Nikka, the question is for you two.” Koa says softly.

“Oh uh... unless she eats babies it’s fine.” Nikka says.

“Why would anyone eat babies?” Nitta asks. “Even if it wasn’t evil there’s not much meat.”

“One wonders.” Koa remarks. Not mentioning that kalua pig is one of his favourites. Amadi gives him a smirk at that. He holds a finger up to his lips and gives the man a warning look from behind his wives. The smirk becomes a smile.

Velocity delicately picks her way through the crowd and crouches down to both look at the babes and to let Miracle get close to the tiny forms of Hera, Demeter, Athena and Hestia. Miracle starts sniffing around them and nuzzles close, eventually deciding that she likes the sensation of the little hats they’re wearing and rubs up against them instead.

“Is every single babe so...?” Velocity asks gently.

“Yep!” Nikka says.

“All tiny, all precious. They become more later.” Nitta says. “Our big sisters had all sorts of babies too. They’re always really precious.”

“So you all know what to do do you?” Velocity asks.

“Yep!” Nikka says.

“Then what do I do?”

“Everything you feel you need to! Haven’t you listened to any Gravids? We all know what to do with babies because we’re supposed to have them. You don’t need to be taught. You need to be willing to move.” Nikka says with a nod.

“But I’m not natural. The Vishanyan were made, not born. Not even bred. Just made.”

“So? You’re a person. You’re alive. Life calls to life to create more life. You’re alive. You know what to do.” Nikka says. “That’s Gravid basics!”

“... I suppose there needs to be something there if an entire religion was born around it.” Velocity says. “Still I... I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong?” Nitta asks. She has one of her wings shifting and reaching out with a rounded and soft hand towards Miracle who sniffs at and pokes at the hand. Velocity looks hard at the interaction that she had seen from Javra and how another, completely unrelated Metak that had never before met her, was doing the exact same thing.

“Nothing. You just gave me all my answers. Thank you. Your children are beautiful. And you should be very proud.” Velocity says. “Now if you’ll excuse me... I think I know what to do next now. Sorry for intruding for so long.”

She then picks her way through the crowd and before they go Harold stops her and uses some spacial distortion to rise up and kiss her softly on the lips.

“There. See?” He says to her.

“Do you have to keep being right?”

“I’m alright right, and if I’m wrong then it’s a ruse and you’re falling into my trap. Mua ha ha.” Harold replies.

“Okay, that’s the limit. I need to get some space again. You’re not the only new mothers and we’re getting ahead of congestion. Friends are great, but everyone but immediate family needs to leave now.” Louisa Gale says. “Come on. Clear my maternity ward, we have more mothers on the way.”

“Well that’s us kicked out. Think the celebration is still going on?” Amadi asks Abigail who considers.

“Probably, we’ve only been here for a few hours so... it WOULD be a right scandal to return in the middle of it wouldn’t it?” Abigail asks as she’s already hooked her arm around Amadi and is leading him to the car.

“Later ladies and gents. I’m off to make stuffed shirts gasp in horror.”

“Come now Amadi, a bit more elegant.”

“Farsooth we goeth to torment the swine most insufferable!” Amadi states.

“That was worse!” Abigail says with a laugh.

“Remember! You’re both back home by eleven!” Jenny calls after them.

“But of course! I’m a lady of my word after all!”

“Alright girls, back to the diner, maybe we can make the late evening rush.” Jenny says to her fellows.

“She still owes us big, interruption or not.”

“Oh yeah, we’re collecting in spades, don’t worry.” Jenny assures them and the Rabbis women rush out without rushing too hard.

Reggie takes a last moment to crouch down and gently rub the cheek of Athena with his knuckle. She lets out a half burbling raspberry. He smiles and stands up then holds out his hand to Koa who takes it and they shake.

“Well done.” Reggie congratulates him.

“Thank you brother.” Koa says and they nod before Reggie moves to leav...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/PepperAntique on 2025-12-09 22:33:26+00:00.

Previous / First

Writer's Note: Yep. This is still going on. Barcadi might birth a new god of rage. Enjoy.

If Murphy, or any of the officers around him, had expected gunfire as they approached Minara Choi and her party, then they were quite incorrect about what Captain Demarco had meant by "Handling them".

Instead of gunfire or spells, the two QZ-Sec cyborgs approached the crime lord in an almost casual manner. To her credit, she approached them with equal casualness.

Chills ran down Murphy's spine. In equal parts from the cutting cold of the mountainside wind, which was still being whipped against them by their transport, and from the seemingly lessening time stops.

Minara Choi slid down the side of the gargantuan black drake as if he was a ramp, and landed in a thud as her armored form nodded at Demarco.

She peered at him for a moment before grinning.

"Captain?" She greeted. "Long time no see. I assume you want to be the first ones through the breach?"

"Miss Choi." Demarco replied with a similar nod. "I'm afraid I'll have to insist that that's the case. Your people are civilians and shouldn't even be here." He made a show of turning his helmet to look in the direction of the QZ miles away. "To say nothing of the show you've just put on."

She nodded again.

"As a member of the extended Royal Family of Petravius I gained knowledge that a member of the main branch of the family was in danger and had even used a charge of a high level familial survival relic. Meaning they'd been killed, albeit temporarily." She said as she held up a hand and showed him the ring there. "As such I'm bound by blood to assist their recovery."

If Demarco's mechanical body could sigh it would have.

"That's paperwork that is... FORTUNATELY... above my pay grade ma'am." He said, sounding tired. "Regardless. I must insist that you step aside once you've managed a breach and allow us first entry. I can't let a member of the royal family." He glanced at the people still working behind her. "Or a bunch of civilians, to be in the line of fire before our law enforcement officers. Legal standing aside."

She gestured for the officers to proceed even as she said. "That'll only be a matter of moments." Then she clambered back up the side of her familial drake and began riding back toward the widening hole. "We're still going in."

Demarco's helmet drooped before he looked back up and nodded. Then he turned back to the strike force.

"Weapons up and on highest settings." He said. "A.R. eyewear on. Miss Choi's people have been kind enough to forward us detailed layouts for the facility below." If he was questioning how she’d gotten said layouts, it was staying inside his helmet.

Murphy put the ballistic glasses on, pulling them from his jacket pocket, and was surprised to see a remarkably in-depth set of 3D skeletal lines displaying the myriad of halls and rooms set into the mountain below their feet.

Interestingly, he also saw a small window pop up in the corner that gave a readout of his new prosthetic arm's status.

And while the officers around him were grumbling and whining about the cold, and their seeming partnership with a wanted criminal, Murphy knew better than to bite the hand that was feeding them.

A minute later he was staging just behind Demarco’s fellow Muck Marchers as one of Choi's people announced that they'd be going in in mere seconds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The monster lashed out almost chaotically as Eli, the Arch mage, and the other Petravians fought it.

The stutters in time seemed to have lessened, both in frequency and in how intense they were. But that didn't change much about what was happening.

Most of the cyber golems had fallen, either dismantled by the concerted efforts of the Petravians, or by the disruptions to time and magic caused by the monster Eli was fighting. Now only R.T.I. ground forces were remaining, and they were mostly holding the area behind the massive wolf monster and preventing the royal army from getting to the doors that their comrades had fled through with the contraband relics.

Speaking of the relics, Eli and the prince had failed.

Those relics were gone now. So was the Ancient leader of the Agency.

Having gone through the doors, several of which had already deactivated and fallen to the floor, they could be anywhere. Maybe not even on Earth now.

Their efforts to stop the grand theft of desecrated holy artifacts was now firmly on the back foot.

He was sliding across the floor on his back, having just been thrown back by one of his own spell explosions, when something above them made a loud WHUMPF! Noise.

He wanted to look up, especially since the sound seemed to accompany an immediate drop in temperature, when he heard a slightly more curious noise.

It was like a cross between a wolf’s howl and a war cry. He recognized it. He’d heard were-folk charge into battle before, albeit not to the scale that the Petravians likely had.

But the voice was too high pitched to be coming from the malformed Champion they were fighting. It also seemed to be coming from beyond the monster and near the doors.

As Eli kipped up and back into the fight, he spared the slightest moment to look past the melee and saw a bloodbath unfolding on the other side of the room.

**“I WILL KILL YOOOOOUUUUU!!!!”** A strange, naked and blood soaked, werewolf was screaming as they tore through the rear ranks of R.T.I. henchmen.

He only had the split second to look at the new development before the Prince went flying past him in a blur of flame.

Someone up above, from where the loud noise a moment ago had been, yelled out in an artificially amplified voice.

**“THIS IS ACTING Q.Z. SECURITY CHIEF DEMARCO! ALL R.T.I. PERSONELL STAND DOWN! FAILURE TO FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS WILL RES-”**

Eli wanted to see what THAT was about too.

But there was no time.

He was in a fight and had no time for confusion about anything other than his next move.

He charged back into the chaos of thrashing limbs and vanishing matter.

Barcadi could see her torturer.

Or at least the thing her nose told her was her torturer.

He’d undergone some kind of transformation and was now several dozen feet tall and…. Oddly difficult to look at in places.

He was also fighting a wild scrum of Petravian soldier, the Arch Mage, and one of the Detectives. Simmons-Dayari to be precise.

But she had, for the moment at least, more pressing issues.

When she’d charged through the door, she’d bowled over several people in black and green tactical gear that had R.T.I. on it. There’d been a moment of confusion before one of them had asked a question.

“Are you with the champi-“ They’d begun.

Barcadi’s claws had slashed his throat before he’d been able to finish.

The others she’d knocked over, and a few beside, had begun to raise their weapons.

As clumsy as she was, she’d begun tearing into them with zeal. She had a lot of pain, anger, and confusion to get out. And they were great practice for her new body.

Most of them were focused on firing at a line of Petravian soldiers who were shielding themselves while firing their bolt action rifles in return.

It was a bit of a stalemate, but the Petravians WERE making very slow progress against them while also lending aid to their prince.

And why wouldn’t the R.T.I. forces want a stalemate? All they had to do was hold the doors for a while until they got the order to withdraw. They could stay here as long as ammo held out. Or until reinforcements arrived.

She changed that quickly.

The first handful of them fell like she was cutting weeds. He claws parting flesh like paper. Even when they broke on armor or weapons, they regrew in less than a minute. She broke bones like dry pasta. And when she had to, she bit and tore great chunks of flesh off of torsos and necks like the animal she resembled.

They shot her.

They beat her.

They tore at her with their own lesser claws when they panicked.

They hit her with whatever magic they could summon.

But after having been tortured for... who knew how long. They could cause no pain that would slow her. And their weapons were foolishly NOT made of silver.

Always, even when they hurt her, she ensured that the attacks were lethal.

She didn’t approve of this new body or how it had been forced upon her. But she would, as always, respect the laws that came with it. She would NOT have her teeth capped in silver.

In her newfound form and long-lasting rage, Chief Barcadi ravaged the R.T.I. force that was near the doors.

There were thirty or so of them in total. And several minutes later, as she clambered on hands and knees through the gore, she turned her attention back to her real goal.

She was oblivious to the stunned looks of the Petravians on the other side of the wall. She didn’t even notice the arrival of her Muck Marcher cousins. Not that she was one of them any more.

She only had eyes for the monster in the center of the chaos.

The one who had tortured her. Turned her. Tortured her some more, and worse. And then tried to kill her and failed.

She breathed deeply as she stood on shaking legs, blood and viscera dripping from every inch of her.

The Petravians who saw her couldn’t even tell what color her fur was for all the bits of… people… that dripped from her.

And ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/DrDoritosMD on 2025-12-09 21:17:48+00:00.

FIRST

Blurb/Synopsis

Captain Henry Donnager expected a quiet career babysitting a dusty relic in Area 51. But when a test unlocks a portal to a world of knights and magic, he's thrust into command of Alpha Team, an elite unit tasked with exploring this new realm.

They join the local Adventurers Guild, seeking to unravel the secrets of this fantastical realm and the ancient gateway's creators. As their quests reveal the potent forces of magic, they inadvertently entangle in the volatile politics between local rivalling factions.

With American technology and ancient secrets in the balance, Henry's team navigates alliances and hostilities, enlisting local legends and air support in their quest. In a land where dragons loom, they discover that modern warfare's might—Hellfire missiles included—holds its own brand of magic.

Chapter 69: Holdout

The Chinook banked toward Karlsheim, their third and final stop on this rescue operation.

Henry watched the approach through the window. The village sat higher than the previous two, perched on a hillside that gave it clear sightlines over the surrounding terrain. Any attackers would have to work their way uphill while defenders rained shit down on them.

Whatever their situation was, it was bad enough that they’d decided to favor defense over convenience. They’d invested in the position so much that they even had some sort of screw setup between the village and the river – frozen solid now, but during warmer months it would pump water straight uphill from the stream below.

The village itself huddled behind earthwork walls that looked like they were raised all in one go. If Henry had to guess, it was a mage’s handiwork. Which meant that these people took threats seriously enough to pay for magical construction – or simply had a village mage.

Past the village, forest stretched in every direction. These were the same frozen woods they’d been staring at for hours now, dense enough to hide anything patient enough to wait.

The tree line sat maybe three hundred meters out from the base of the hill – more distance than Tannow, which meant they’d have a lot more breathing room if monsters decided to bum-rush them. Assuming the monsters could even track them down.

Ideally, they wouldn’t. Hell, logic suggested that they couldn’t. Chasing metal birds moving at hundreds of miles per hour was just a losing proposition, especially if they wanted to chase them on foot.

But knowing his luck, they’d somehow manage to come knocking on his doorstep. And in that case, he’d estimate maybe twenty, thirty minutes before those crystallons closed the distance from Tannow. Plenty of time to load civilians and get wheels-up, but that depended on full cooperation and zero fuckery. As if they’d be able to get off so easily.

The Chinook touched down on flat ground just below the village walls, ramp already dropping. The Royal Guards disembarked first, followed by the Greyhar and Tannow volunteers. They ran the same playbook they had during the last two stops – familiar faces calming locals who’d probably never seen anything fly that wasn't a bird or a dragon.

Henry hit the ramp right after, rifle up. His team got into position while Doc sent the drone up toward the tree line.

“Alpha Actual, Thunder One-Two. Got a gut feeling those bastards are trailing us. Request clearance to intercept, buy you guys some time. How copy?”

Henry keyed his radio. “Solid copy, Thunder One-Two. You’re cleared to intercept. Thunder Two-Two will maintain overwatch.”

“Thunder One-Two copies. Moving to intercept. Out.”

Henry tracked the Apache as it banked southwest, watching it shrink against the tree line until it disappeared into the clouds.

He turned his attention back to the ongoing evacuation. The Royal Guards and volunteers had gotten the villagers in check relatively quickly, as they’d already started heading back home to grab their belongings.

With that, Perry signaled for the King Stallions to land. The big birds descended in sequence, ramps dropping and loadmasters popping out.

The Greyhar and Tannow volunteers did their thing, guiding Karlsheim locals toward the helos with calm, neighborly encouragement.

Families shuffled up the ramps in a steady flow. Parents keeping kids close, elderly folks taking their time on the incline, younger adults hauling packs that probably had way more shit than they needed. One woman had a crying toddler on her hip while trying to manage a basket at the same time. A Greyhar volunteer took it without being asked, and she nodded her thanks.

Overall, things went pretty smoothly. It helped a lot that the crowd was smaller, too – maybe half the size of Tannow’s.

Honestly, it was pretty odd, now that Henry thought about it. Karlsheim, like the other villages, had a recorded population of around fifty people, give or take a few. And yet, the crowd barely amassed to thirty or so.

Of course, it was possible that some of them simply weren’t in town when the blizzard hit. Or the bleaker alternative: that they’d lost a few residents during the storm.

Whatever the reason might have been, he couldn’t afford to waste his attention on trying to figure that out. He kept his focus split between Doc’s drone feed and the tree line with his own eyes. Still nothing but white and frozen trees.

Everything held steady for maybe five minutes before Murphy’s Law sent its first invoice.

One of the Royal Guards came sprinting back from the village and made straight for Boral, grimacing like he bore bad news. Boral clocked it immediately and straightened, dropping a conversation with the Warmaster. He leaned in as the Guard whispered something.

Whatever he said, it was enough. Both of them turned and headed back toward the village, jogging as fast as they could without making it seem like a desperate, panicked sprint.

Henry tracked them as they disappeared through the village gate. He turned to Ron on his left. “What do you think that’s about?”

Ron just chuckled. “I can take a guess, but I ain’t gonna jinx shit.”

Henry almost agreed, but with how the dwarves were moving, they didn’t need to worry about tempting fate – not with something already set in motion. “Think it’s already jinxed, man.”

He turned his attention back to the woods. Whatever Boral was dealing with, it was costing them time they didn’t have. He checked his watch, then Doc’s drone feed. Still clear on contacts, but that window wouldn’t stay open forever.

At least the evac was still running on schedule. That was about the only thing going right.

After a few minutes, Boral emerged through the gate with the Guard in tow. And of course, both men decided to head straight for Henry.

Because what was a mission without getting drafted for at least one clusterfuck?

Granted, no one had actually verbalized that yet, but Henry could see it written all over Boral’s face as he approached. 

“Captain.” Boral’s jaw worked like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to say. “There’s holdfast folk as won’t be moved. Three houses, mayhap a dozen souls all told. They’ve walled their yards and laid by stores for the winter, swearin’ they’ll weather what comes. Stubborn, but set on it.”

Gee, wasn’t that just perfect? Sure, why would anyone want to evacuate when they could play fortress instead?

The other villages had fuck all for defenses – a wooden palisade at most. Meanwhile, this village had actual stone walls and sat on a hilltop. These people had probably fought off their fair share of raids, so it did kinda make sense why they’d want to dig in, but still… The coming storm wasn’t just another halfassed goblin raid.

“What’d you tell them?” Henry asked.

Boral’s gaze sank. “That this war’s no goblin raid, nor stray beast come wanderin’ from the deeps. What waits beyond the ridge outnumbers them twice and more, and hungers worse besides. I said their walls’d not stand, nor their stores last through a siege such as this. Yet they heard me not; for they’ve seen small evils driven off afore, and reckon the greater will fall the same. I could scarce find heart to press it further.”

The underlying frustration was obvious enough to Henry: if perfectly sound logic couldn’t dislodge the stubborn holdouts, then nothing could. Still, leaving them wasn’t an option – not politically, not morally, and definitely not when it came to explaining it later.

But what other options did they have? Dragging them out by force would torch any goodwill they’d built and probably turn the rest of the evac into a shitshow.

Boral shifted his weight. “I’d thought… mayhap they’d lend ear to you, then. You command the metal birds, do you not? Where they see me but as another councilor bidin’ ’em this way or that, they might take your word for somethin’ weightier.”

That sounded a lot more like desperation than actual logic. What was Henry supposed to do, convince fortified villagers to abandon their defensible position – their home – and trust some random dude who dropped by in an alien aircraft?

He’d almost begrudgingly accepted when he remembered that they had Perry for exactly this kind of thing. “Why not ask the Ambassador?”

Boral gave a bitter laugh. “If they’d not heed me, they’ll scarce heed him. Perry’s a good man, aye, but he’s naught to offer this lot that I hadn’t meself. An’ I suppose the Warmaster could order the Guard to fetch ‘em by force, but that’d...

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“We’ll be fine!” Firana said, pushing me into the carriage.

Although she was at least fifteen levels below me, Wind Fencers had a greater strength growth than Runeweaver Sages.

The day of the anti-nobility rally had arrived quickly. I wasn’t planning on taking any of the kids with me, and I had expected some resistance, especially from Firana and Ilya. Even if the girls disagreed on virtually everything, they were pretty much on the same page when it came to world-saving endeavors. However, they approved the plan without a single complaint.

Firana, Zaon, Wolf, and Ilya were to stand guard at locations owned by the Arcane Circle in case Byrne made a move tonight. They were to remain within the inner wall, far from the rally site. If my calculations were correct, all that was needed to interrupt Byrne’s teleportation circle was to mess with two enchanted slabs. The four kids and the handful of Prince Adrien’s loyal people were more than enough for the task.

Still, Firana’s compliance rubbed me the wrong way. 

I put my foot in the carriage’s doorway to prevent her from closing the door behind me.

“Don’t deviate from the plan and stay in contact. Most likely nothing will happen, but it never hurts to stay alert. If something happens, contact Prince Adrien’s men immediately,” I said, for the tenth time that afternoon.

The enchanted radio sat comfortably in a backpack on Wolf’s back.

“Yeah, yeah, we know already,” Firana said.

“We have been doing way more dangerous stuff during the last year than watching abandoned houses. We’ll be fine,” Ilya added, giving me the thumbs-up.

“Don’t do anything reck—”

Ilya pushed my foot into the carriage with an [Entangling Vine], and Firana closed the door in my face. As soon as it closed, the carriage started moving. Despite having been monitoring Byrne’s for weeks with no apparent change, I felt that this time was different. It was just a feeling, but I had to swallow my worries all the same.

Holst raised an eyebrow, entertained by the situation. 

“Did they know all along?” he asked.

“Yes, since the Lich’s Monster Surge,” I replied, sitting down on the unpadded wooden seat.

He let out a dry laugh.

“You truly live up to your ‘child soldier apologist’ reputation, Robert Clarke.”

I ignored him. 

Holst had taken the news about my Runeweaver Class with initial skepticism, but a quick use of [Identify] on me was sufficient to clear his doubts. Then, surprisingly enough, it was all smooth sailing. It shouldn’t have surprised me, given that Holst was a Scholar. He was curious by nature, and there was still a great deal of philosophical debate over the true nature of the System among the erudite circles at the Library. When I revealed that the System’s goals did not align with the well-being of the people of Ebros, he just accepted it at face value.

“The Ruthless System Hypothesis states that any true detractor of the System would automatically be suppressed by the Zealots,” Holst continued with his questionnaire. “That begs the question, why are we alive right now?”

Talindra shifted uncomfortably by my side. She had also agreed to help me, but for completely different reasons. Playing with Corruption was a huge no for Ebrosian standards. Playing with a new form of Corruption so close to her newborn baby was an even greater no.

“The System is not as infallible as you think.”

I knocked on wood just in case.

Neither of them knew what that gesture meant.

“So, the Faulty System Hypothesis is also true?” Holst asked.

“I’m getting the feeling you are farming me for titles,” I replied.

Holst crossed his arms and glanced at me, still entertained.

“I was under the impression that farming a teacher is totally acceptable behavior,” he said, his voice not showing whether he was joking or being serious.

I sighed. He had a point.

“The Faulty System Hypothesis is true. Corruption is a problem not only for living beings, but also for the System. The more Corruption, the more errors it collects,” I explained. “Also, the Finite Fountain Hypothesis is somewhat true. The Fountain’s life is cyclical, and its length seems to depend on the amount of mana used.”

Holst nodded.

“Marvelous.”

The carriage slowed down as a group of masked partygoers crossed the street ahead of us. The coronation was one week away, and the city was celebrating. Technically, it had been celebrating nonstop since the announcement of the former king's death, but today it was special. The High Priest had announced the Church’s support for Prince Adrien’s succession, so the nobles of all the corners of the kingdom had decided it was the moment for an even more massive festivity.

Everyone was trying to get their piece of the cake early.

As the coronation day approached, nobles’ delegations began arriving in Cadria, and the inner city was uncharacteristically lively.

The Academy was filled with Imperial Knights, and the usually placid inner city had become a boiler. Although it was obvious in retrospect, I learned that most of the empty houses and small manors were vacant because their owners had their first residences elsewhere, or they were dispatched where high-level combatants were needed. Other than the servants, every inhabitant of the inner city was a wealthy, high-level person.

Talindra remained silent, and although it wasn’t difficult to read her expression, she refrained from voicing her thoughts. She didn’t care about the truth about the System. Anything that could endanger Little Robert had to go.

The carriage abandoned the main road and crossed the gardens to a side entrance beneath Prince Adrien’s chambers. We were entering directly into the royal family's living quarters. Royal soldiers were everywhere: enough to have a sizable force if something happened, but not enough to grossly catch people’s attention. Many nobles were overly keen about judging the number of armed forces at the host’s disposal.

A man with a captain's helm opened the door of the carriage and guided us inside. After crossing a couple of enchanted doors and magically reinforced walls, the presence of guards decreased. We climbed down a spiral staircase to the palace’s dungeons. The air grew damp and cold, and nobody was in the mood to talk. 

Finally, when it seemed we couldn’t get deeper, a corridor got us to an underground armory where a dozen people waited for us. On the farthest side of the room was Prince Adrien with Lord Vedras and Lord Jorn by his side. The three were dressed for the party that was about to take place in the gardens, almost directly above us. The other figures, dressed in commoner clothing, were members of Prince Adrien's intelligence network.

Given how relaxed everyone was, I assumed they had taken part in far more dangerous operations before.

“Robert,” Prince Adrien greeted me with a smile, signaling us to come near. “You look unremarkable today.”

As we were going incognito, I was wearing secondhand clothes I bought at the East Ward Market. 

“I have been a commoner my whole life. I was born for the role,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Lord Vedras gave me a slight bow, and Sellen Jorn examined us with a keen eye.

“Too many untrained people,” Lord Jorn said, his voice devoid of any inflection as usual.

We had already discussed the operation beforehand, and I wasn’t going to give in on having loyal people by my side. Still, I understood his worries. Lord Jorn and Lord Vedras thought we were just busting the local anti-nobility rally. They didn’t know about the connection between the rally, the corrupted potions, and the Zealots. If the Quest subroutine marked me as hostile, I would rather have loyal people by my side than high-level spies from the most powerful dukedoms in the kingdom.

“They are essential,” I said.

“I will trust you, but only because Prince Adrien and Lyra do,” he said, his voice cold as a slab of ice.

Lord Jorn looked at his pocket watch. I didn’t need one. [Foresight] counted down the seconds until the start of the operation. Of course, Lord Jorn and Lord Vedras didn’t know about my true Class. Prince Adrien convinced them I was simply an extremely keen person who saw through the secrecy of the anti-nobility rally.

Prince Adrien also had hinted at the importance of the part I played in his ascent to the throne when Evelisse’s faction had been gaining strength by the day, but perhaps what had truly allowed me such an important part in the operation was that Vedras and Jorn already had a good impression of me.

“Roderick, Sellen, let’s go over the plans one last time,” Prince Adrien said, then turned towards me. “Go and get equipped. You can use anything in the armory.”

I nodded.

Lord Vedras, Lord Jorn, and Prince Adrien’s agents were being sent to watch from the shadows, tag important people, and follow the members of the anti-nobility rally. Only Prince Adrien knew all the pieces of the plan. For security, each of us was only aware of the details of our own part.

“Let’s go,” I said, leading the way to the adjacent room.

The armory wasn’t that different from the one back at Farcrest, save for the quality of the equipment. Rows of swords, shields, spears, and halberds covered the wall. Chainmail, plate, and linen armors were piled in the corner. Everything unmarked. I expected more enchanted items, but there were none. That wouldn’t be a problem for me.

“One might expect a Runeweaver to command way more respect from a group of orphans,” Holst pointe...

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