A group of six shadowy silhouettes clawed out of the ground in front of Alan, each armed with Black Living Armor, ready to defend the medieval style ward of wounded warriors.

Lucius – the strongest of them – dropped from a massive blow delivered to the Shiva threatening the town square, landing at the head of the group of Stalkers with his massive, conjured polearm intact.

“Ojin finally got the better of you, ey, Alan?” Lucius peered over his shoulder, whipping the long weapon to face the beast.

“Seems like here isn’t much safer.” Alan smirked back.

Lucius scoffed, then flexed, ready to combat the beast head on. “Stalkers… ready!”

The depth in his friend’s voice gave Alan goosebumps.

He was at war… and the tension between beast and defenders was palpable.

“Attack!”

Two cloaked warriors closest to Alan began humming chants lowly to themselves while the others charged the Shiva.

Doomsayers, Alan realized as Orange Saro faces formed on the ground beneath their feet. He wanted to help anyway he could, but his body was still an exhausted mess from expanding the protective bubble. Expending so much Saro while wounded felt like endless knives stabbing his insides.

“Durger, how do I replenish Saro faster?”

“Rest, Sir Alan.”

“There’s got to be another way. I need to help. Think of your old group.”

The Doomsayers thrusted their arms forward in unison, and those faces beneath their feet dissolved into a mix of black and orange shadowy mist rushing across the ground, zigzagging past the other warriors until they cycled around the Shiva’s left hoof.

Did they just curse her foot? Alan furrowed his brow, wondering what that spinning circle of mist was about to do.

The beast didn’t seem to mind, however, thrashing at the Stalkers trying to poke her bloody with molten weapons.

The chanting grew louder around him, until finally, they stopped dead – igniting a fiery cast around her leg that dragged it deep underground – all the way to the kneecap. The beast shrieked its dismay, swatting a Stalker out of the sky mid-attack.

“Aaah!”

The Shiva crushed him hard in her grip, turning orange glowing slits between the Stalker’s armor to frozen cracks, crushing bone to gravel.

Alan hoped the man had the same skills as Lucius – deferring pain – but he wasn’t so sure when the Stalker went limp in her grip. The Shiva tossed him tumbling aside as another two dagger-wielders flipped onto her back.

“Yogi could help here, Durger.”

“Don’t do it, Alan. I can feel your energy. It is critically low.”

Lucius discarded his polearm and summoned a fiery bat that came flapping from the ground. Its wings were half-flame, half-burnt flesh, like a hellhound with wings. There was barely any time to analyze it though, since it scooped Lucius into the air in a blur. To Alan’s surprise, Lucius yanked a talon-tipped spear from its skin and hurled it at the Shiva.

Shaaa! It shrieked – spear now sticking from its neck.

The clouds cheered from high above, and the Strangey Town mountain bongos resumed.

Lucius appeared all-powerful in that moment – using his clawed free hand to summon fiery steeds for his army of Stalkers below. Was this the power of Farante’s old blade? A soul collection? The sight made Alan want to do better. He wanted to fight.

Since Durger refused to coach him in his sorry state, he visualized Neesha’s Green Saro enveloping his body, healing him. His mother’s embrace when he was a child flashed into his mind, his late father picking him up when he fell in the dirt.

I won’t let these people down.

I’m not useless.

I was never useless.

Visceral thoughts plagued him in the best way, coaxing him into action.

His eyes sprung open, body buzzing with power. The ache in his side still refused to slow, but then again, so did he.

A dull stream of Green Saro started from his fingertips. It was nowhere near as vibrant as Sema’s or Neesha’s, but it would have to do. The essence swerved all around, sending tingling sensations wherever it touched, numbing the dragon’s marks, replenishing his lost Saro. It was a good feeling… with limitations, apparently. He was stuck in place – legs heavy like bricks.

“You’re channeling, Sir Alan! By the mountains of Hightower… do not move!” Durger exclaimed.

Alan swallowed past a lump in his throat. “I-I don’t understand—”

“To Channel is to pull forth powerful, rare Saro that cannot be summoned in an instant. You’re gathering great healing essence as we speak! You must maintain form, hold the emotion, until your spell is complete,” Durger explained.

Taking long, deep breaths, Alan held the Green Saro, willing it to heal him.

The Shiva spawned a brand-new set of spikes down her forearms that ejected into the air like quills.

Lucius evaded one set by doing a barrel roll on his fiery bat, until Shnk! A spike impaled the conjuring, causing it to puff into a suffocated flame as Lucius launched himself forward with the last of his spears in hand.

Go, Alan whispered to himself. Fly, my friend!

Lucius’ mouth was an open war cry, his entire muscly body reeled back.

Go!

Lucius impaled the Shiva’s trapezius, making it shriek in pain. The bongos grew louder – Strangey Town itself cheering him on. He hung from the Shiva’s shoulder for a second, then let go, pulling two swords from the molten slits in his armor and stabbing the beast again.

“Yes!” Alan shouted.

It was a flashy show. A bunch of hellish Stalkers dashing to open her from back to belly.

But then something terrible happened. The Shiva’s icy armor cracked open while the Stalkers still scaled her, and its entire body exhaled freezing crystalline mist that caused all of them to eject in unison. The beast ripped her leg out of the ground and roared her dismay – a continuous stream of vapor exploding out of her. She kicked a Stalker hard into a building – causing rubble to fly everywhere. Then she swiped another.

Alan spotted Lucius rolling on the ground in a daze, one of his arms frozen solid, mere feet away from being stomped out by her gigantic hoof.

“How do I break the channel?” Alan gritted his teeth. “I need you now, Durger. Release me.”

“You must clear your mind of whatever evoked the Green Saro. That is the only way.”

Alan focused on his breathing – his ex-girlfriend used to make him do yoga with her now and again. Goddamn Trish. Thoughts of her usually provoked anxiety… because he hated her for cheating. But he supposed there was some silver lining, because using yoga to clear his mind broke the tether like snapped chains.

He grunted as his limbs lost their heaviness and drew Durger with glowing Red Saro wrapping his limbs. Tossing Yogi into the mix now would surely get more Stalkers trampled. He had to get the beast’s attention himself.

Instinctive prowess sharpened his mind. He could envisage possibilities not yet in motion – an ice lance the Shiva would conjure to skewer him, breast darts that made him blush, and finally… a bed of spikes. She – the Shiva – could channel a bed of spikes and impale them all while they’re grounded.

No!

He noticed the beast’s eyes glowing white as her arms slowly lifted.

“Hey!” he shouted to no avail. As he rushed past the Doomsayers, they released two fanged, biting faces chomping on the air on either side of him. Reinforcements. The three of them charged.

As the Shiva’s mouth opened – sucking in air for her ability, Alan flipped the tip of his dagger into his grasp, aimed, and hurled it with all of his might.

Sheaaaa!

Durger lodged into the roof of her mouth, jarring her eyes out of their daze.

The Doomsayer curses bit into her abdomen, further jerking her off-balance.

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Alan turned his instinctive prowess inward, thinking of how he could get his weapon back. Visions of him activating Orange Saro similar to Lucius made him realize he could summon Durger through the molten ground, if he could conjure one himself. All he had to do was measure the crystal in his mind and turn all of the Red Saro Orange.

In an adrenaline-riled split second, he did.

Clawing one hand toward the Shiva’s hoof, he summoned a tiny pool of molten liquid in the ground – a fraction of Lucius’ conjuring – and imagined Durger peeking through it. He sprinted hard into danger’s way. The Shiva flailed to get the Doomsayer faces off her as they tore at her icy flesh.

“Lucius!” Alan shouted, trying to snap him out of the frozen daze. On his way, he ripped Durger from his pool, and leapt to swipe at the Shiva’s leg.

Slllt!

Cold mist trailed his slice as he tumbled into a somersault and slid on his knees to Lucius’ side. “Get up!” He grabbed him under the arm.

“What—Alan.” Lucius’ eyes refocused. He shook off the daze and burned his left hand so hot that the ice encasing shattered. “Tundra visions nearly claimed me. Fucking Shiva.”

Boom!

The Shiva turned on them as they both got to their feet, her giant hooves quaking the entire square.

Boom! Boom!

Both hooves settled as she loomed over them, face bulging with icy, angry veins.

“The Herald is here, Jaeger!” Shiva’s voice was a scratchy mess. “He is here!” She sucked in a cold breath, ready to exhale a paralyzing blizzard over them once more.

Jaeger? Farante’s god is behind this too?

Alan had no choice, it was either suffer another round, or…

He dug into his bag and pulled the Borai’s coin just by feel.

Protect us, Yogi.

Ting! He flipped the coin into the air, and out roared the glorious Borai stomping directly in front of them, flexing to rival the Shiva.

Alan collapsed to his knees from the sudden depletion of Saro. He wanted to channel replenishment, but knew this was not the place.

Yogi and Shiva locked claws in a match of strength, while Lucius helped drag Alan out of harm’s way. The other Stalkers backed up in awe.

“The Herald is here!” Shiva shrieked again, her voice carrying far throughout the town.

It was only after her second cry did Alan hear the voices in the distance. They were coming closer. What’s more, a deep rumbling laughter echoed from far above. At first, Alan thought it was the clouds playing another trick, but after a weak craning of his neck, he saw the truth.

A gargoyle. Muscular rock-like obsidian skin extended throughout its body, all the way into the crimson-glowing wings at its back. Red fog emitting from each flap of its wings polluted Strangey Town’s air.

“Hold your fire!” a head Archer called while sprinting to the town square. “There are friendlies! Hold!”

A triad of Wizards glided down from slipstreams to face the gargoyle. All staves pointed upward toward the beast, as it laughed in their faces.

“The Rift Maker,” Lucius said.

A burly woman Alan noticed on the first day in Strangey Town came floating across the battlefield with her dreamcatcher waving all over, accumulating all different colors of Saro inside it. With a wild swing, she wooshed the essence into the air, which honed toward all the depleted defenders.

Ranks of shielded warriors marched like they were on slipstreams, traveling fifty feet per stride. All of their armor was enchanted, Alan realized. And to top it off, Yogi overpowered the Shiva – picked her up over his head, and tossed her toward the white bricks away from the cul-de-sac, leaving a mighty force protecting the ward.

Still, the gargoyle loomed.

“They breached Flint’s wall?” Alan broke from Lucius’s grasp and took the lull as an opportunity to channel a Green Saro regeneration.

“Alan…” Lucius eyed him. “You’re—”

“I know. I’m regenerating. It was either that or everyone dies.”

Lucius furrowed his brow. “It took the Colorless I knew six years to dive into Green.”

Alan shrugged as he fell on his backside – limbs growing heavy once more. “Lucky, I guess.”

“I told you, Alan. You are that of legend,” Durger whispered.

As Strangey Town forces consolidated to defend the square, the Rift Maker lowered – each flap of his wings sending a gust of dark-red wind fluttering in all directions.

“I can redirect my stampede, recall my troops.” The iron-jawed gargoyle’s voice sounded like hammer against stone. “We have found what we came for.”

“What’s going on, Lucius?” Alan asked, dispelling the regeneration and squaring his shoulders.

“This is the first time these beasts have talked.” Lucius’ armor hissed.

“A Herald walks among us. We have seen it through the clairvoyant streams.” The gargoyle spread its wings wide as its reverse-kneed legs touched down. Then it wrapped itself tight in its wings like it just donned Dracula’s cloak. Its eyes glowed red.

“The Rift Maker threatens another in the heart of our town!” A warrior at the front ranks raised its shield. “Soldiers, ready!”

“That won’t be necessary.” The gargoyle exhaled crimson fog from its cloak, scaring the soldiers, likely threatening something from Ojin. “It is you, I seek, Merchant.” His red eyes focused on Alan, sending a shiver down his spine.

He was afraid it would come to this.

A handful of eyes turned on Alan, awaiting his response. Mumbles broke out, Flint’s name being tossed around here and there. Where was Flint, actually?

“Why would you cause this hell just to get to me?” Alan took a step forward. “These people haven’t wronged you that I can see.”

The gargoyle cackled at that. “I apologize if we got off on the wrong foot. I am Hyndole, the Rift Maker. Right hand of Jaeger… our god of Hozzod. I was a man once, like you.” He began to pace. “Until Jaeger offered me power beyond my wildest dreams. It is a good deal, my friend. We tour Ojin and claim beasts of prowess, garnering strength for our god, expanding his domain.”

“That is not my prerogative,” Alan spoke loudly, smirking at Yogi when he roared beside him.

“Noble Alan is great!” Yogi pounded his chest, provoking the soldiers on the front ranks to bang their shields.

Hyndole smiled in anger. “We have seen what you can become in our care, noble Alan. A Merchant of many entities and rare weapons alike.”

“I won’t be invading innocent towns beside you, Hyndole. Ever.” Alan knew he should be more cautious with his words, considering they were backed all the way into the center of Strangey Town against the townsfolk’s will, but he just couldn’t let them down for some reason.

The silence was killing him.

Did he just sentence these people do death?

He may hate Mujungo and the way of this place, but he didn’t hate its people… Even if they did try to stone him on his first day. One thing was for sure, they wouldn’t accuse him of being a scout any longer.

“Hyndole.” Alan stepped forward again. “What will it take for you to leave this realm?”

“A single conversation.” Hyndole smirked. “So that I may dissuade you from taking up allegiance here, in Mujungo’s care.”

Alan clenched his fists. Obviously, he didn’t expect the gargoyle to just pack up and leave once he was done jabbering his stone jaw. “I’m listening.”

“We have it on good authority that you seek to exit our universe and return to your Origin.”

Alan tensed, remaining quiet. Farante…

“We would accept that outcome, even knowing Jaeger would suffer a harsh loss by not gaining you. At least we would not have to combat you.”

But he could squash me right now?

“With respect, invader. What’s stopping you?” Alan dared to ask.

Hyndole showed his marble teeth. “Your god. All the gods, and the universe decrees.”

Flint came laughing on an intense slipstream, holding his hat and swiping his staff to create a pile of snow beside the shield ranks that he flew into. “Aha!” He emerged, staff first, spitting snow. “I knew I could smell you, Hyndole. You’ve changed since our last encounter.”

“Step aside, Wizard. I am making my case… to your friend.”

Flint followed Hyndole’s eyes. “Alan!”

Alan waved casually.

“We will freeze you into the swamps of Crimson, rip you limb-from-stone-limb and hang you from Dakar trees to pay tribute to Lady Yiir! Be gone, vile hand of Jaeger!” Flint became quickly frantic.

“Alan, we skate the line to get Mujungo’s attention… to find you. Had we declared war on the realm, it would likely mean the end of Hozzod, for it would open gates for all the other realms to attack us.”

Alan squinted in thought, eyeing the recovered Shiva bowing on one knee. Then he recalled the rifts, and everything Lucius and Flint had told him in the past. “Rift Maker… you opened portals from Ojin and riled the beasts to charge straight into Strangey Town. It’s a goddamn loophole.”

“I knew the gods were right about you.” Hyndole cackled. “If you do not share our mode for growth, hear me. A single Peg of Fate could get you home, if only you knew how to wield it.”

Lucius perked up at the mention, but Alan was skeptical. Haven’t warriors and Stone Chasers been spending their lives trying to figure that out? He looked at the crimson fog wafting off Hyndole’s wings, and wondered if that meant he’d conquered it in Ojin. Hand of a God… that’s saying something to his status.

“Let me guess, one of the lost Pegs of Fyrule. Fabled pieces not meant for mortal eyes,” Lucius shouted.

Hyndole hooted. “No, Stalker. I do not deal in Stone Chaser myths. I am a practical being, seeking power that’s truly in front of us. The Peg has been discovered, and a warrior has taken her trip home… to her Origin.”

“Do not buy it, Alan!” Flint waved his staff. “He is a man succumbed to power. His mind operates in no other way but to seize it. A trap.”

Hyndole didn’t seem bothered by Flint’s frantic ways. Instead, he took an easy step forward. “If you agree to exiting this plane, I will rewind the stampedes and close the rifts.”

Alan noticed the townsfolk grow uneasy. This meant no one else had to die… the ward wouldn’t be destroyed, and it would be a step toward his original goal.

A part of him though… no longer wanted to leave. His powers were strong here, budding. His lips pushed to one side as he looked for guidance from Lucius – who was endlessly intrigued – and Flint – who shook his head in warning.

“We will respect your decision, noble Alan!” the front-facing warrior called loud, a twinge of nervousness in his voice. “You do not have to bend to Jaeger. If Hyndole continues, we will be martyrs for the rest of the universe!”

A surge of inspiration shot through him. He wondered if it was that soldiers’ Saro aura pumping him up. But the truth remained – Alan didn’t want the townsfolk to die if he could prevent it.

“I will chase the Peg,” Alan said, to a row of gasps.

“Alan, you are the chosen. Do not depart us,” Flint begged. “A Herald!”

Hyndole laughed low and loud. “Mujungo will be no stronger, Wizard. You are doomed to mediocrity, forever.” He turned to face Alan. “Alan, listen to me. Seek out the Merchant of Five Pearls. He is said to travel the forbidden shops of Ojin, and is undoubtedly the one who picked up Yineera’s Peg once she opened the portal to her Origin. This will allow you to unlock it.” He reached into a parting stone cage in his abdomen and held out an ornate champagne-looking bottle with crystal edges. “I leave this in your care, and bid you farewell from our universe.”

With a wave of his hand, Hyndole transferred the bottle through the air, letting it land gingerly in front of Alan.

Tincture of Preservation received.

Saro – Reverse

This tincture is an Inhibitor to enable transfer through long-range portals.

Alan pursed his lips, wondering if his friends have ever seen something like this. Before he could consider it any further, however, Hyndole balled his fist in front of his face, and made the whole world tremble.

The army tensed.

“The stampedes are being corralled away from your wall, Wizard.” Hyndole smirked, and when he opened his hand, his stone fingertips glowed crimson once more. Deep crackling resounded in the distance, reminding Alan of portals closing. “It is done. We capitulate, good warriors of Strangey Town. May we meet again when Jaeger rules the universe.”

He clawed a red tear through space – puffs of crimson fog coming through his rift. “We will be watching you, noble Alan. Make sure your departure is swift.”