“I bid you all, luck of the Pink. Preserve Merchant City Shara-das… and defend it from war!” Lord Osmi banged his cane once and faded into sparkling dust.

Alan didn’t know why he was surprised, but he realized that Osmi contracted with many warriors across the city to combat whatever beast roared overhead. Glowing swords and heavy ballistae pointed skyward. An army huddled between the huts, and as they became visible, a faint raid prompt tickled Alan’s mind.

“For the lord!” Gregorian shot his first arrow, which burst to life like a flare in the sky.

“Hraaa!” the other groups shouted back.

Commercial huts similar to Vidiger’s remained wrapped in their blue shields – Alan guessed as a safeguard in case the city went up in flames, or electricity, or whatever was about to rain down on them.

The red sky swirled with long angry clouds. Crystalline chains on the sides of the mountaintop rumbled from the monster’s roar. A shadow loomed so large Alan wondered if a raid this size could even contend.

“Prepare yourself, Alan. Neesha may have taken all of us in over our heads,” Durger cautioned.

“Hey!” she yelled back. “If we survive, it will be worth it.”

“Should I just flip Yogi out now?”

“Every one of your items is linked to your Saro, Alan. Be tactical with what you have.”

He took stock of his inventory. The Bubble of Vosh that Vidiger briefly displayed seemed essential in travel, but he wondered if it would protect from attacks too. How much Saro would it claim? Not only that, but the bubble was only as effective as his group. If Gregorian remained a part of it, it wouldn’t last.

The beast roared again, making Alan grit his teeth.

Would Mujungo even be able to pull him back while Strangey Town is under attack?

Shit. His lifeline suddenly felt scant.

Alan thought hard about survival – pulling from thoughts of his old life and now his new. It activated Red Saro, granting him instinctive prowess like in his fight against Akira.

“A wise move,” Durger complimented. “Perhaps we can sense the beast’s intended target.

“Alan… Brace!”

From out of the clouds burst a fanged maw with three horrid eyes shaped like squiggled lightning. Wings the size of houses flapped away all dust around it, and its roar made Alan’s Borai look like a cub.

“Orange Saro!” Gregorian yelled. “Brace for fire!” He whipped around and nocked two arrows. “Is there a White Saro Wizard among us?”

Alan dug for the coined Bubble of Vosh Vidiger traded him. He held it close as the beast descended. It was straight out of mythology – a dragon. He wondered whether all of the fantasies of his Origin World came from dreams of Ojin. But when its maw extended all the way back – cracking out of place – Alan thought again.

“What do you know, Alan. It looks like the orange fog came to us.” Neesha laughed nervously.

Alan ignored her since his Red Saro instinct dragged his gaze straight to Gregorian’s bow. He wasn’t a faux Archer, like Liustad back in Strangey Town. His bow was seriously dangerous looking – deep curvy metal spikes swirling outward. It could act as a double-bladed sword as much as a ranged weapon. It forced Alan into a momentary trance.

Its ancestral owner trained by challenging beasts of the Purple and rooting them in lightning shackles. He was limber, stringy even, and dodged a four-legged beast’s lunge before shooting it with a hair-thin arrow that wrapped magically around its wrist.

Alan pulled back immediately from screams in reality.

Fshew! Fshew!

Gregorian loosed magical arrows in perfect stature. The bow twanged as it pierced the nightmarish dragon’s scales.

The beast dove for a group of five across the way. Alan couldn’t believe his eyes, but they all held strong, keeping their hands firm on the back of a female Wizard shivering in place as it looked for sure they’d all be eaten.

At the last second, she bellowed and threw her quavering arms up to block the beast’s snapping jaw. A translucent shield burst through her fingertips and ballooned over her group like a tiny dome.

Rrrru!

It slashed, and slashed, leaving orange streaks in the magical shield, tearing down the fabric.

A brave Knight with a braided beard sprinted out of the Wizard’s protection and leapt at the dragon with a two-handed sword, only to be swiped away by one of its claws. He spun, and tumbled, and finally crashed hard into one of the huts.

“Neesha! Get him back on his feet.” Alan dragged her by her robes to look.

“Right.” Her eyes glowed green as she conjured Saro between her palms.

“Wait.” Gregorian nocked another arrow. “We will need to conserve her Saro for the real damage dealers. He was merely a distraction.”

Alan furrowed his brow. “How do you know?”

“His armor, his weapon. Likely as useless as you. Let him suffer. He served his purpose.”

“Dick,” Alan said, considering whether he was right. Seeing a suffering fellow in need hurt him greater than he knew. It reminded him of his friend, Jared, when he got knocked out in a fight – three-against-one. Had Alan left him to rot in a puddle, he may have bled out.

No. “Heal him, Neesha.”

“Way ahead of you. I don’t take orders from those who I do not trust.”

“Fools.” Gregorian rushed to get a better position. Every arrow loosed sparked chaotically as it pierced the dragon’s scales, until, on the sixth hit, it roared and flapped away from the Wizard’s shield, leaving the poor woman to fall to her knees in exhaustion.

“Quick.” Alan pointed. “Use a shackling arrow! Don’t let it gain momentum.”

“The hell are you talking about, Merchant? Go bury your head in the sand.”

Fshew!

A pulse of Yellow Saro radiated through his forearms and into his arrow as he continued to poke the beast.

He doesn’t know his weapon’s capabilities, Alan thought.

“If I weren’t a mad dagger, I’d say he stole that elite bow off a corpse,” Durger said.

“But he’s deadly accurate.” Alan thumbed the coin in hand.

When the orange dragon speared through the clouds again, Alan’s instinct already told him where he’d land – Neesha.

No.

Alan leapt over a wooden sign and sprinted hard down the road.

“Thank you, dear,” the wounded warrior coughed, the mortal wound mending to a gash across his abdomen.

“Neesha!” Alan waved his hands. “Get out of the way!”

Neesha tried to get the warrior up by draping one of his huge arms around her shoulder.

She wasn’t going to make it.

Time slowed as Alan considered all angles, as he peered up to a giant maw extending unnaturally wide. Fiery breath clung to its fangs as it rushed closer. There were options – fling out the Borai in hopes to send a rival force against it, dive to tackle the two down in hopes the dragon misses, or…

An idea struck him at the last second.

The pink winds that overwhelmed him before… what if he could summon them through his pendant?

As he leapt, he stuffed the coin in his pocket and grasped his crystalline pendant with one hand. Instinct told him to think of the most nonsensical times in his past life – a clown riding a bicycle down a crowded street. A prostitute coming into the shop with wings taped to her back. These thoughts rapidly turned the color wheel pink, and the Saro reflected off of Durger vibrantly.

“Hra!” Alan swung out a pulse of pink vapor that wafted in the dragon’s face. The wide spin ended with him crashing into Neesha and the warrior, forcing them both back to the ground as the dragon awkwardly changed directions.

When the dust settled, Alan lifted his head to see the dragon’s squiggly eyes wide with confusion. It coughed and thrashed, attacking the air.

“Brilliant!” Durger exclaimed. “How did you know beasts hate Pink Saro? Gosh, I never would’ve imagined you being able to conjure it without training.”

Alan ignored the praise. “Everyone alright?” He slowly rose, helping Neesha and the warrior up. He couldn’t believe his eyes when a Black Saro user soared up to the dragon on a shadowy cloud before flipping onto its back.

Two swords sliced at its spiky spine, leaving hissing marks, before the Bladesmen flipped back onto the cloud and rushed away.

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The dragon reoriented itself, roaring out flames into the sky. “Jaeger will have his prize!” the voice sounded reptilian and forever echoed over the mountaintop, making the hairs on Alan’s skin stand straight up.

“That’s the same god Farante fights for,” Alan said under his breath.

Fshew!

A yellow-glowing arrow flashed by, followed by six more in quick succession. Gregorian shoved his bow onto the holster on his back and slammed his fists together. Saro sparked around his body like miniature bolts of lightning.

“A channeling spell,” Durger said in awe.

With a mighty roar, Gregorian swung his arms outward, and each arrow stuck inside the dragon burst like a rod struck by lightning. The dragon jerked every which way as each electricity-filled blast left a blinding flash in its wake.

Rrrr! The dragon bellowed, sending with it a continuous burst of flame that it flew through, melting away all of the artillery stuck between its scales.

Gregorian narrowly evaded the dragon’s fiery breath that tore up everything in its path. His good arm briefly lit ablaze, until a White Saro Doomsayer directed a reverse curse soaring in his direction. The face of a frosty totem-like creature chomped through the air and wrapped around Gregorian’s body, cooling him immediately.

A timer ticked down as mist swirled to cool the Archer. It was a temporary thawing, Alan could tell by the flames roaring over the White, but it was enough for Gregorian to draw his bow once more and heroically unleash four arrows at the dragon’s back.

Warriors were beginning to rally around the Archer. Maybe his confidence was backed.

But when the reverse curse wore off, Gregorian grunted and fell to one knee – his shoulder sizzling like it’d just been barbecued.

Alan peered back to Neesha helping another torn victim, then forward to the dragon roaring for another round.

Two equally loud barbaric warriors sped forward to disrupt the dragon. Alan wondered if such brutish men could be called Knights. They charged hard – muscly arms twisting back and forth with monstrous broad axes in hand. The Black Saro Bladesmen sheathed both swords to perform a hand-gesture that activated more black clouds for the sprinting warriors to leap to.

Alan felt a surge of adrenaline at the sight.

The men drew the dragon’s attention with shouts, used the Black Saro clouds as a springboard, and leapt with weapons reeled back.

Rrrrur! The dragon roared out a blinding flame that incinerated one of the warriors instantly, while the other ripped his axe hard into scales.

The warrior bellowed his saddened anger as he dug out his axe and leapt from the dragon’s back to its head. In one wide-arc swing, he took his revenge by crashing the weapon hard against the dragon’s maw, knocking it sharply in the opposite direction. Molten blood squirted out of the beast, earning a much-needed cheer.

His brother wasn’t reduced to crackling remains in vain.

“God, did a man just die?” Alan swallowed past a lump.

“We will say a prayer and honor his name, if we survive! To arms, Alan!” Durger riled him.

The dragon was enraged – fire bursting through its pores to create an incinerating aura. Now no close-range warriors would be able to contest.

But… they drew blood.

Gregorian limped to get out of harm’s way, and Alan – noticing the dragon pinpointing the Archer as a source of critical damage – rushed to help him along.

“Greg!” Alan waved his hands. “Use the huts as shields! Osmi awards his Merchants protection! They should hold!”

“I can’t… feel my arm.” Gregorian winced.

He seems dazed. Not good.

Alan sprinted harder, pulling the coin from his pocket, glancing at the incoming dragon looming closer. It was so large up close, every cell in his body begged him to run the other way.

Three seconds until the fire incinerates Gregorian.

Alan’s legs pumped as fast as he could.

Two seconds.

The incoming stream of flame made his entire body scalding hot.

One second.

Alan flipped his coin into the air and grabbed the variant-colored essence it turned into.

Bwoff!

A bubble of rippling plasma distorted time and space as Alan understood it. Him and Gregorian remained at the center, while the dragon encroached rapidly through the distorted fish-eye lens. Alan’s item exhaled at the same time as the dragon’s flame seared overhead, nullifying the effects to harmless smoke.

“Alan…” Gregorian said in awe as his neck craned to follow the dragon. “You saved me.”

“Yes.” Alan was out of breath. “Now will you please listen.” He grabbed Gregorian by the collar. “Your weapon can shackle great beasts. I don’t know if it has anything to do with your class, or your Title, but my instincts say it’s the weapon itself.” A flash of Red Saro beamed throughout Alan’s body.

Gregorian furrowed his brow. “What are you?” He shook his head. “Pink paralyzing mist. A Vosh Bubble that can withstand a dragon’s flame… I’ve never…”

“Snap out of it man.” Alan shook him, and as soon as the bubble rewound back into a coin, Alan lost all feeling in his limbs and fell to his knees.

Holy—

“Alan, that item takes too much Saro for your endurance,” Durger’s voice sounded faraway. “You’re nearly depleted! Get to safety.”

Alan grunted and tried to stand up. “Pour your Saro into the bow and shackle the beast. Otherwise, I just saved you for nothing.”

The flames burnt hot around them again – the smoke suffocating his voice.

“There’s a trick to activate it,” Alan said as Gregorian tried to help him up. He thought back to the vision he experienced – of the limber Archer toying with great purple beasts. “He didn’t push his Saro into the arrows, but rather the bow.”

“That’s madness. And even if it were true, my arm is useless.”

“She—” Alan coughed, trying to point. “She will fix you.” He pointed to Neesha rushing at them, then shifted his finger to the dragon readying for another round on a nearby group. “You fix that.”

“Alan. Alan.” Neesha scrambled and caught him by the shoulders, switching her gaze between the two warriors. “That was incredible. Your item deflected a dragon’s fire!”

Rrrrrur!

The dragon’s bellow was followed by helpless screams. More deaths just occurred in the distance, jarring each of them to look.

“Lot of good it did.” Alan shook his head. “Wait, stop.” He noticed Neesha’s eyes glowing emerald. “Fix him.” He pointed to Gregorian. “He can stop the dragon, but he’s poisoned, or something. His arm is dead.”

Neesha gritted her teeth. “I do not—”

“You do not trust him, I know.” Alan used the last of his strength to push her toward Gregorian. “But he’s the one who’s going to stall the beast, so that the White Saro users can snuff out his flame and those barbarian warriors can kill him, okay?”

Neesha reluctantly worked her hands in a way that evoked the Green Saro out from under her flowy robes and into Gregorian’s dead arm.

The substance cradled his skin, sending little milky stems caressing the poisoned spots.

“You speak so confidently, Alan,” she said with a hint of worry in her voice. “How do you know how this will turn out?”

“I don’t.” Alan threw his hands out as he struggled to stay standing.

“But you know too much.” She eyed him.

“I don’t know… I just, kind of… see it, I guess. When I’m cycling through the different types of Saro.”

She narrowed her eyes. “The Blue.”

“Yes, Alan. I see it too. I think Neesha’s right. We get glimpses of great knowledge.”

“Instinct and clairvoyance. Blue and Red,” Alan surmised after a cough. “Colorless doesn’t seem so useless now, does it?” he scoffed, then grimaced when the dragon swooped down to burn another row of finely paved streets.

“At this rate, the entire mountaintop is going to topple!” A warrior rushed to the blue-shielded hut the three of them were hiding behind. “Darnin. Over here. More wounded.”

“What’s the status?” Alan reached for the warrior’s arm, pulling him out of his daze. “It looks like we got some licks in.”

The warrior was out of breath – red-hair frazzled in a hundred directions like he just went through a wind tunnel. “Hard-snappers get stronger all the way ’til the very end. If you ask me, we’re doing alright.” He laughed sadly. “Hang in there, Merchant.”

Gregorian took in a deep breath, light returning to his eyes. “Thank you, Neesha.” He dropped a hand on her shoulder while eyeing Alan curiously. “And you. Clairvoyant, you say? Alright. I’ll try it your way.”

Yellow-colored Saro sparked out of Gregorian’s veins, swooshing into his bow like a live current. “If you’re wrong, though. Kiss our chances of surviving goodbye.”

“I’m not wrong, Greg…”

I saw it.

The dragon snapped its jaw over a female warrior, causing screams of horror to resonate throughout the streets.

“Another one bites it.” The warrior turned away.

“No. Look.” Gregorian motioned toward another warrior, a Black Saro Bladesmen. His entire body was shaking, like he was trying desperately to push two opposite magnets together.

The dragon appeared confused. It wasn’t able to gulp down its fresh meal, that was rapidly being consumed in black smoke. The dragon thrashed its head back and forth in anger, unleashing another wave of fire at the groups.

Dirt, wood, and metal burst into the air as the remaining warriors dove behind the shielded huts, which remained unmarred in the slightest. Alan grew angry at the Merchants’ cowardice. Surely, they could help. Provide essence, weaponry, spells.

I’m out here. They should be too.

Alan was jarred out of his thoughts when the female warrior reappeared from the puff of black smoke, and the Bladesmen passed out from his spell’s intensity.

“Neesha, get him next.” Alan pointed. His lungs felt like they weighed a ton each. “He’s insanely powerful.”

“’Course he is. That’s Helldraken.” The red-headed warrior peeked from around the hut.

“You, get that woman to safety.” Alan pushed the barbarian. “Quick. Before the dragon gets its wits about.” He then peered up to Gregorian – who stood atop a piece of debris with his bow drawn, arrow nocked and ready.

“Let’s see your worth, Merchant.”

Fshew!

Alan’s eyes widened as the arrow soared toward its mark.

Please…

Please…

When the arrow stuck, Gregorian’s bow flashed blindingly bright and extended lightning-streaked chains that tethered to the arrow like reins.

Yes!

Gregorian shot again, and again, each time spawning another set of chains that echoed the first. The dragon was as stunned as everyone else. It flailed insanely, body pulsing fire like a canister about to explode. But the raid wasn’t afraid. On the contrary, this was the time to strike.

In the minutes following, Alan witnessed abilities he never could’ve imagined in his wildest dreams. The Black Saro Bladesmen launched like a shadowy torpedo, lunging both swords deep into the belly of the beast. Larger warriors swung battle hammer and axe alike infused with elemental likeness, creating electrical storms mixed with rushing waters.

The dragon scowled in pain, hissing as its fiery scales were momentarily doused.

Fshew!

Fshew!

Gregorian didn’t stop, regardless of nearly falling to his knees from depleted Saro, he shot to keep the drake immobile. “This is the answer, Merchant.” He gritted his teeth.

“It is, isn’t it?” Alan smirked, pointing Durger forward and trying his own projectile blasts. He experimented with the elements he was most familiar with – White mixed a dazing Pink. Thin bolts flew out of the dagger, getting lost in the barrage of ten other long-range attacks.

Rrrrruuu!

The dragon burst out of its elemental chains with a mighty roar. Spreading its newly scarred wings. Before anyone could even register it, the dragon’s eyes brightened while focusing on Alan, Greg, and Neesha.

Oh shit.

Alan grasped for Neesha’s hand, but as he leapt, his body was jerked in the other direction by the dragon’s mighty claw. Its jaw snapped inches away from Neesha, and a trail of smolder exhaled out of its body to send the rest of the nearby group tumbling back.

Blood leaked from multiple wounds in Alan’s abdomen. Ground zoomed farther and farther away.

“Jaeger will be pleased.” The dragon snickered. “It was you hiding amongst them. The future Herald of Ojin.”

Through a mind-spinning daze, Alan registered the words.

Me?

Why in hell would they be after me?

He winced as the pain of the dragon’s grip intensified to the point he thought he’d pass out. Trying to pull the claw off of him was like trying to move hardened cement. The scales were rigid. He thought he’d slice his fingers just by touching them.

“Alan!” Neesha cried from far below.

Alan used the last of his strength to peer up at the smug dragon straightening its wings to glide higher. The weight of each flap generated the wind of g-force. Everything felt so hopeless. Until…

“Mujungo. Hear me. Pull me back to Strangey Town if you’re able.”

A rush of ticklish energy swarmed Alan’s body, making him fidget in the dragon’s grasp.

“Hold still, insect. Come quietly and I will let your friends down there survive.”

In the distance, Alan felt something tethered to him. He’d experienced it before when he first entered Ojin. That was practically an eternity ago when Liustad tried to attack him in the Black Sand. But that horrible place felt close to him again.

“Bah. A coward attempts to flee.” The dragon hissed and barrel-rolled to avoid a budding portal.

No! Alan gasped as he turned his head to see Mujungo’s reach fail.

This is not Mujungo’s first rodeo, Alan Right.

He suggests you hold your breath. And do it now.

We’re so excited to have you back.

Teehehehe.

Alan furrowed his brow when the message faded in his mind’s eye, to four budding portals blooming in the distance.

The dragon dodged one, only to fly right into the next.

A thousand cloudy arms wrapped themselves around Alan, strangling him, forcing the dragon to jerk out of place. He let go of Alan out of necessity – and it was in that moment, Alan realized, Jaeger didn’t want him dead.