Afarus stood beneath the phoenix flame Alan concocted for their duel, pointing his long blade southeast. “I sense immense power emanating from that way. There I presume, your geyser waits.”

“Stop stalling,” Alan called from his seat, pressing his palm on the muddy ground, drying it with a flash of Orange Saro. “I’ve earned my story.”

“That you have.” Afarus sighed, his brittle bones creaking as he took his seat opposite Alan. Thunder boomed overhead, setting the mood. “Gousa Preer, my love in my Origin World and afterward. I found her in this universe after only a single year, knowing we perished together in our first life – dropped from a cliff for our crimes.” He huffed and held up a finger. “I know what you’re going to ask. We won’t fall down that rabbit hole this evening, Alan.”

“Fair enough.”

“Just know we were zealous creatures, always pushing the boundaries. True to her soul, she gave herself to the stones, vowing to prop me up best she could since I did that for her in our first life.” He dug his fingers into the dirt, drawing enough of Alan’s Saro to make his hand flesh and bone. “The god of my realm saw talent in me – offering unique rewards if only I followed the path of Saro mastery in defense of Voyaje. There was potential for greatness, which Gousa knew could be elevated with answers not yet known to mortals. So we embarked together, our bond strengthening from our overcome trials…”

“And then what?”

“I plateaued. That exponential growth we’d been high on stalled. Mastering the elemental and blessed aspects of Yellow, as well as pairing strongly with Black, was as far as my talents would take me. Still, it wasn’t enough to cross into the crimson fog. We nearly died on more than one occasion, being rescued by our god leaving stains on our reputation. Frustrated, we embarked for an ultimate answer. The journey was long and arduous, blocking out all our political and warrior connections, going dark just so we could focus.

“It eventually led us to our goal, which we obtained in the Deep Blue. But she failed to reveal the consequences of sharing the secret, and sealed her fate with a kiss to my lips and a whisper of the Saro revelations. It was there – after the horror of watching my love die for a second time – I abandoned my home realm of Voyaje and sought to conquer the crimson fog myself.

“In a rage akin to what you displayed against me, I toppled beasts one hundred times my size, withstood tidal waves, walked on clouds, and even crossed paths with tiered warriors that refuse to align themselves with realms because their power was so absolute, all citizens would beg for just a glimpse of. There is a whole world you know not of, Alan Right. Worlds upon worlds.”

Alan swallowed past a lump in his throat.

“It doesn’t end there. Within the deep fog, there are certain minions that are almost like deities. Ultimus Deenoms, they are called by some, with such massive achievements under their belt, they are awarded realms by the universe.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Alan asked.

“Because, after a three-day battle, I solved the puzzle to bring a particular Deenom to her knees. The realm of Ojin shook that day, and the high-tiers gathered to see. She respected my cunning as well as my valor, and offered me her realm in return.”

Alan’s eye twitched.

“What is it?”

“Something must happen if you accept such a profound offer. Every god I’ve encountered is deranged or extreme in some way.”

“Such is godhood, I think, Alan.” Afarus nodded. “To become all powerful while also being confined to stricter rules than mortals does some zany things over time.”

“So you were given time to contemplate this?”

“And more.” Afarus’ golden eyes locked with Alan’s. “To be granted a realm does not mean you are automatically a god. You may explore it as a mortal to your heart’s content. Portal in and out. Even invite others. But you cannot govern in absolute. In fact, a godless realm begs to be overtaken.”

“That would be an act of war, against the universe rules,” Alan surmised.

Afarus smirked. “Not if you’re assassinated in Ojin.”

“So that’s what happened to you.”

“God scouts can be more powerful than a Deenom, or even a hand of a god. They are specialty warriors bred only to kill. So take this as a warning.”

Alan scratched his chin. “Warning? I don’t plan on conquering the Crimson anytime soon.”

Afarus hooted. “My clairvoyance is strong, Alan. Take my sayings for what they are.”

A cool shiver ran down Alan’s spine. He thought of the face-painted Archer who killed him on Earth. “I have to ask someone who might know the answer. If no one has been able to transfer back to their origins, how do gods have scouts in Origin Worlds?”

“Easy. It’s not possible to port a vessel back there, but a prompt can be done, according to Stone Chasers. Send a prompt to a cult-leader, a serial killer, what have you, and you have a great way to get people moving on to their second life.”

So I was targeted specifically. At least I think I was.

“Grave tidings await you, Alan, which is why I’m glad you struck me this night. Your Saro needed it.”

xxx

The next morning, Alan donned his armor and steeled himself to cross the path of the geyser. He was determined more than afraid. He’d built up enough Saro endurance to keep his minions out with him the entire way, so that’s what he planned to do. The only one who would deplete him immediately if called forth against a foe would be Afarus, so he kept him at bay in case.

Ting!

Ting!

Yogi and Gardstrife materialized at his back, as well as the Five Pearls to orbit him – which were now properly stored with abilities from Elkire, Afarus, Lucius, his old Mistborn, and these new beasts he’d been fighting – Hushwaters.

Fully equipped and ready, he marched to his fate.

“Noble Alan, I am sorrowful about the gryphons,” Yogi said, pushing away floating globes of water as they ventured deeper into light blue fog. “It does not seem like Lucius to cause such destruction.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“I know, Yogi… I fear for what he’s become.”

“There is a saying among my people – honor forgone for hope, is the sure path to madness.”

Alan eyed Yogi. “What can we do to stop it?”

“I am not sure.”

“We can detain the traitor, Sir Keeper.” Strife sharpened his blades. “Punish the Stalker for his crimes.”

“Maybe, if the opportunity presents itself. But the best I can do for now is pick up the pieces for those poor Fate Chasers. I cost them everything.”

Durger formed from the smoke of the Soul Collector. “You did nothing but exist with grace, Sir Alan. You cannot blame yourself for the nefarious will of others.”

“I am accountable for my choices,” Alan mimicked Afarus’ words. “This is my attempt to correct those missteps.”

“Noble.”

“Indeed.”

“Yes.”

As they trekked farther southeast, the fog began to behave oddly. It flowed violently like gusts of wind were forcing it every which direction. If this wasn’t a warning to turn back, Alan didn’t know what was.

“Keep an eye on the color, Sir Alan. If it is unchanged, you are still on a safe route. Or as safe as light blue allows.” Durger carefully analyzed the fog outside of Alan’s rolling bubble.

“What if we attempt to clear the light blue? Then perhaps we can better assess the threat of the geyser.”

Durger’s form slipped back into the blade, exchanged for Afarus.

“Be wary of mixed fog, Alan. Minions of higher tier can be riled by the poke of a lesser. Best to walk a path of defense.”

Alan took the advice as the fog continued to swirl in harsh circles.

Thhhhsshhh!

The ground trembled in the distance as the undeniable blow of the geyser resounded.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Alan drew Blood Edge.

Kaw!

Alan turned his focus to the sky.

That was a gryphon.

“We’re getting close to the nest,” Alan hoped.

Yogi sniffed the air. “Yes, I can smell them.”

Woosh!

A rush of yellow air washed over them, making everyone stop in place. The grass was suddenly coated in shiny gold flakes, floating water globes popping all around, causing floods at their feet.

They all positioned back-to-back as the environment shifted rapidly, Alan’s bubble of clarity shrinking.

“Another test of Ojin,” Afarus whispered. “The realm either has great plans for you or seeks your demise.”

“Great.” Alan readied himself.

Rssss!

A minion stomped its foot and cleared out a path of fog, revealing a female-shaped creature with an armored stone face at the torso, a masked head above it with long locks of braided hair, and a golden aura around its frame.

“Turn back!” it’s double-voice warned. The minion flexed hard to threaten them, matching in size to Strife and Yogi.

“Hendra detected.” Gardstrife bent into charging stance. “Permission to engage.”

Alan swapped Titles to God Merchant to give his minions full access to his power. “Hold.” He stepped forward to address the raging heavenly minion. “Hendra! We have no choice but to pass. I must deliver the feathers of fallen gryphons to their kin. It is both a quest and an oath. Is there anything we can offer you to get by?”

The Hendra’s aura bolstered. “This is not up for negotiation, puny traveler. This turbulent land has been guarded for millennia. Whoever sent you on this route, surly seeks your demise.” A heavenly hymn blanketed her harsh words.

A bright hammer blinked into existence, blinding them further. “This will be your last warning.”

Alan shook his head. I didn’t travel a month to turn back now.

“Go,” Alan commanded, and in a flash, Gardstrife faded into a speeding blur.

Clang!

His blade-arms were stopped dead by the head of her hammer. She held it forward with one hand as if she didn’t even expend any energy. What’s worse, Strife’s fissures weren’t able to accumulate.

“Rrro!” Yogi leapt, generating Black Saro from his armor that he syphoned to his claws.

Chrrt! Chrrt!

He slashed at the torso-face, evoking cries as the Hendra backpedaled.

Black Saro it is.

Woosh!

The Hendra swung her hammer – which Yogi sidestepped – and Alan used the evade as an opportunity to activate Counter-dash. His vision blurred as Blood Edge propelled him forward. He swerved and slowed midair at the height of the minion’s back as a rush of Black Saro filled his double-bladed staff. With Title-swap initiated – Forbidden Merchant – “Rah!” – he stuck it deep within her spine, evoking a terrible cry.

She used her momentum wildly, smashing Gardstrife hard in the shoulder – sending him flying into a gold-plated tree. Alan let go of his staff, activating a flash of Red Saro so he could somersault safely between the Hendra’s legs.

She pinpointed Alan as the source, shouldered Yogi back, and wound up her hammer to smash Alan like a bug.

No you don’t.

He mentally commanded one of his Five Pearls to launch into an Orange Saro comet – the essence of Elkire’s spear dive alive in the sky.

Boom!

It crashed hard into her shoulder, giving Alan the second he needed to dive out of the way as the hammer crashed down. A holy dong struck through the ground, causing the trees to shake free of their leaves.

Too close.

Alan drew his dark blade and backflipped into a flashy strike against the Hendra’s fist, causing more cries. He then Title-swapped back to God Merchant and transferred a rush of Black Saro into Gardstrife’s blades.

Go! he commanded mentally, watching the bruised minion get into ready stance.

Alan dashed back just in time for his lightning fast guardian to swipe right into the Hendra. She flew off her feet for the first time, and was thrown rolling back when Black Saro fissures exploded.

“Impressive display.” Afarus materialized from the sword. “Your training proves useful.”

Thanks. Alan allowed himself a breath.

Just then, the geyser in the backdrop rumbled.

Fsssssh!

It exploded, releasing deep orange fog that washed over them all, blocking all sight like a passing dust storm. When it cleared, all of the trees appeared burnt and decrepit, the grass now oozing with lava puddles, and the world might as well have been on fire.

From the burning backdrop, a tornado puffed away more fog to reveal the Hendra transformed from her heavenly make-up to a black suit of seductive armor, neon-orange skin beneath it, making her mask look like a flaming skull.

With a snap of Alan’s finger, he activated flowing White Saro to spew outward from the soles of his feet, through his shoes, blanketing the apocalyptic scene with tundra.

If Shiva was weak against Orange, then this version of Hendra is weak against White.

Her charcoal feet melted Alan’s ice immediately. Yogi huffed in one corner while Gardstrife rounded the trees, looking for an opportunity.

Four Pearls still orbited Alan. The Lucius one would prove useless, but perhaps the Hushwater would cause a good distraction. Knowing he had enough distance between his foe, he shut his eyes and concentrated hard on unleashing the right Pearl – sifting through them in his mind’s eye, feeling the emotion, the color, the power.

Simultaneously syphoning a mix of Green and White Saro through his summoned ground – to his minions – he gave everything to this moment.

Boom!

Boom! Boom!

The Hendra sprinted to crush him.

Alan opened his eyes to the Pearl swirling forward, taking shape as a wide-mouthed leviathan to wash out her flames.

She roared and swung her hammer in perfect timing to combat Alan’s blue essence – the clash stalling time itself for an instant.

“Rrrr,” both of her faces grunted, arms flexed to overpower the beast. “Rah!” The essence exploded into a tidal wave that rushed over her.

“Yogi!” Alan yelled, throwing bolts of White Saro into the Borai’s claws.

Hendra and Borai clasped molten hand and claw in a tense struggle. Seconds later, Yogi overpowered her with a monstrous swing that held both arms behind her back.

“Strife! Double-charge!”

Fssshew!

Fssshew!

Massive starbursts of Variant Saro exploded upon Gardstrife’s blows, leaving the Hendra to spin onto her knees, armor leaking lava, drips of fire hissing on the ground.

Alan rushed forward, readying to form a White Saro spear to impale through her head, but an earthquake made all three of them falter.

“Finish her, Alan!” Yogi shouted.

Fssssh!

The geyser exploded again, as if displeased with the outcome.

“Now is the time, Keeper. Strike!” Gardstrife called.

Alan took two strong steps, yanking Blood Edge from a summoned molten pool and solidifying it with bright White Saro as he leapt in the air. “Arrrhhh!” He shouted his feral war cry.

Whoosh!

A rush of crimson fog sent him flying back, dispelling all of his momentous force. He slammed against a burnt tree, knocking it down as he bounced off it.

“Run, Alan!” Durger called from the Soul Collector. “Run!” multiple voices shouted.

Alan pushed up, head aching and ears ringing.

“Run.”

He shook his head.

Something clicked inside him that wasn’t there before. His strike on Afarus, all of his failures resulting in accumulated debt, his promises, his old life – he wanted to ball it all up and use it to take a stand against the odds. How else would he start making real strides?

He no longer felt threatened by the idea of crimson. Now… he was in it.