It was a peaceful night in Strangey Town. Fish-head humanoids flopped out of the white sand gleefully, and clairvoyant frogs swam mid-air in zero gravity, twinkling amongst the stars. All were pleased that Mujungo – the realm’s god – was among them.

Well, not everyone.

Alan would never forgive him for stealing him away from Earth, but today, he had bigger fish to fry.

War had been declared by Jaeger and his minions. Casualties were in the thousands, and although the realm claimed victory, the future of the universe was now uncertain.

Alan’s friends remained close at his heel, while his prisoner – Prince Lucius Kiar – rattled along in his magical shackles. The thump of his heavy footsteps was a constant reminder of his failed plight. He never made it home, to his Origin World of Cerrain… to his wife.

The strain reminded Alan of his own Origin, Earth, which would be nothing but a distant concept at this point if not for the magical pull of Saro keeping his memories alive and bright. He found his ex, Trish, to be at the center point of a lot of them. Whether soothing yoga poses activated Green Saro serenity, or babbling hate-filled fights dragged him into Black dread, his experience was useful in defending this world.

“You made good use of my sword, Alan,” Lucius said.

Alan looked over his shoulder with an angry snarl, watching the curly-haired shadowy Tarzan amble like a hunched weeping willow behind them. “You forfeited your rights to it when you murdered gryphons at High Tower Brack.”

“You what!” Neesha stomped over to the prisoner and offered him a swift slap to the face. “Prince or not, I no longer respect you.”

Lucius’ cheek twitched as a red handprint lingered on his face. “It was never my intention to let it get this far. Though the facts do not change – I’m going home. And you all will help me there.”

Alan’s skin prickled from the prince’s nefarious confidence, but what Lucius didn’t know, was Alan’s readiness to toss him into the hands of Elkire of the Fate Chasers if he didn’t give up their stolen Pegs. It’s the least he could do after causing such a ruckus in their realm.

“Aha, good Alan, it pains me to look at our shady friend.” Flint pulled his hat over his eyes. “We’ve been through so much.”

“We’ll get through it, Flint. Let’s just stray away from the night’s commotion, and we’ll be on our way.”

“To where?” Neesha asked.

“Hightower Brack. Lucius, here, is going to return what he stole, and then some,” Alan tested.

“I would sooner watch my heart ripped from its cage.” Lucius bowed his head. “And you know how much pain I can take.”

“I also know how much you value time.” Alan arced an eyebrow at him. “Every moment here could be days away from Luness, where you’re helpless to save her.”

Lucius hissed, gritting his teeth. He stopped walking for a second to resist Alan, but Alan just dragged the magical chain harder to remind him who was in control.

Alan was sick of being betrayed, and would work to make allies in this crucial war, starting by sacrificing those who harmed him. After witnessing so much death, something was beginning to change within him. The darkness the frogs predicted, perhaps?

I’ll never let it get out of hand. He thumbed the coins in his sack, recalling all of minions who’d helped him get this far. Yogi, Gardstrife, Hendra and Figro. Those in his sword – Afarus, Trio, and of course Durger. They’d keep him honest and good, even through the tough decisions.

A group of shield-bearing soldiers marched over a white-sand pathway, kicking up grains and banging their shields while chanting. “Mu-jung-o. Mu-jung-o.”

They stopped in front of Alan and crew, raised their shields in solute, then bowed. “Flint Degoba, hand of our gnarly shit-stirrer padded ass-god, you smell awful, and we love it!” the main warrior praised.

Flint spun once and burst a snowy puff out the tip of his staff. “Aha! A scallywag from the ice-cream hole. Good to see a friend.”

Alan couldn’t wait to exit Strangey Town. They’d be an ally in this war… a far…distant ally. He wondered whether Flint’s allegiance would tip out of his favor in the decisions to come. Seeing his jolly eccentric energy even after enduring days on end of battle… it hurt him to think of them ever at odds.

In fact, he vowed never to let such a pale fate come to be.

“Patrol is clear through to the black sands?” Flint asked.

“Crystal! Just the salty sting of the white.” The soldier lifted his totem guard-mask and widened his eyes to show how bloodshot they were. “I’d endure ten thousand more marches if it meant safety for our people, Flint. We are lucky, and the fallen are brave.”

“They are.” Neesha put both hands to her heart, green glowing Saro ribbons illuminating her robes. “We will pray for a kind journey wherever they end up next.”

“Thank you, my lady. We are informed you and yours fought valiantly in the name of Strangey Town. Alan Right. We watched you stand toe-to-toe with our enemies, whilst challenging our very own great god. You are a legend in more than name. Hya!” he shouted loud, thrusting his shield to the sky.

“It is my high honor.” Alan smiled. “Stay vigilant, soldiers. I fear Jaeger is only beginning.”

They nodded, pressed their totem-mask guards back down in unison, and marched ahead.

Once they were gone, Flint rubbed his chin while waving his staff ahead of him like a metal detector.

“Hm.” He squinted and crouched. “The Essence of Mujungo spreads awkwardly through the land now that he’s here.”

“Of course. He makes everything awful. What did you expect?” Alan asked.

“I am not sure, good Alan. But my worry of the realm grows now that ale and laughs are behind us.”

“It is a solemn night,” Neesha reminded. “The absence of my grumpy ex-bonded Archer and the betrayal of my prince leave a bad taste.”

Alan frowned at the comment. Deep down, he hoped this new dynamic would create opportunity for the two of them to forge a stronger connection. They shared a moment in the whirlwind of battle, maybe one could happen again in the calmness of his own realm waiting for him.

He scrolled through the Titles in his mind, settling on Ultimus Merchant of the Borai, where he spent a good amount of time building his own realm – albeit barren of citizens – but he molded and shaped the land with his friends in mind.

“Waoo!” An odd noise came from above, prompting everyone to lift their heads.

A line of floating frogs swirled in the sky, descending in zero-gravity as if propelled by the direction of their spinning eyes.

“Ugh,” Alan groaned, having a feeling he knew what was coming.

“Aha! A great gift of foresight approaches!” Flint danced in place. “Perhaps retribution for our dark prince.”

“Foolish Wizard,” Lucius scowled.

The leading one had yellow slimy-looking skin and glow-in-the-dark spots. Its head curved unnaturally whenever the invisible drain it was swirling down deviated from Alan’s position.

“Ribbit. Meow!” The main frog seemed to have swallowed a cat.

“Can we just keep going, please?” Alan put his hand on Flints shoulder to try and shove him onward.

“Impossible! In a time of war? We must absorb every great bit of information possible.” Flint stretched his arms toward the sky, begging them to come.

“Meow!”

“Woof!”

“Ribbit!”

“Jesus.” Alan smacked his own forehead when the line of frogs grew longer, emulating the shape of a flying serpent, until the first one finally landed in front of them.

It stared at Alan blankly, then made a squishy toy sound when the next frog crashed slowly into it.

Neesha giggled. “What in the stars is happening right now?” She bent down to try and pet one, but it only crab walked aside to keep its eyes on Alan. “Well excuse me, little guy.” She backed up toward the group.

The third frog opened its mouth, and the sound of a cruise ship horn bellowed out of it, startling them all. More squish toy noises accumulated as they became sufficiently surrounded by a ring of trippy creatures of Mujungo.

“My reinforcements arrive right on time.” Lucius sighed.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Neesha leaned over to Alan. “Did he just make a joke?”

“He won’t be soon.”

The frogs all open their mouths in unison, creating small dots that connect to a large concave bubble growing to drape over the group like an umbrella, trapping them into their insane movie.

Once the bubble settled to the floor, war drums pounded in the distance, announcing a visual of a red sky stretching deep into the horizon from all sides.

Boom!

A Helldraken’s scaled claw startled the group as it cracked down on the ground beside them. Its chuffing maw rumbled high above, lightning-shaped eyes darting every which way. When Alan turned for a better look, he heard the rattling chains connected to its ankles.

Jesus! This is something’s pet?

Alan backed up to glimpse an even larger creature. A skeleton with long teeth and a crown stood tall among the barren land.

“The red lands…” Neesha held her mouth. “The stones speak of the realm on the other side of the crimson.”

Alan swiped out his Soul Collector blade, evoking Durger to come swirling to smoky life.

“Sir Alan. By Hippyan’s beard!” Durger gaped beside Neesha. “That must be the god Sar’fidius.”

“Aho no.” Flint grimaced, holding his hat. “He is of foul legend, Dante. Say it isn’t so, my great frogs. No, this is but a wrong turn down a slipstream. A puff of foul air amidst a serene pond. Nothing more.” He waved his staff, Alan guessed in an attempt to dispel the visual, but it merely popped with no frost.

The skeletal god craned its neck to look down at the group. No. Not the group. The ground.

Cracks shattered the sandy rock, leaving clawed hands to break free from beneath.

“Ah!” Neesha jumped to Alan’s side, which gave him a slight tingle.

“It’s just a vision,” Alan said, draping an arm around her. It felt good not to have Gregorian watching their every move.

The surfacing dwellers wore black cloaks and long masks, leaving Neesha trembling in fear despite Alan’s efforts. She glanced back at Lucius, then at the people pulling themselves upright. Flying beasts soared out from the cracks into open air, with riders atop them.

Within seconds an army budded to the surface as far as the eye could see, marching into formation.

“No,” Neesha whispered.

Lucius’ chains rattled as he stepped forward. “Jaeger works fast.”

Alan’s eyes darted to his prisoner. “What’s the meaning of this, Lucius?”

He flashed a pained smile. “He did say Sar’fidius held the greatest number of scouts in Cerrain, but I never expected this.”

What the hell is he talking about? I thought Neesha mentioned a different god as the dealmaker in Cerrain.

Neesha gasped again when ten smaller Helldraken soared down past the ranks, landing in front of the god, two hardened female warriors among them. Their arms were wrapped in muscle and markings, hair braided, and pink-tipped noses.

“Mother. Sister,” She ran out of my grasp to try and plead with them, only to be shoved back by magical winds.

“Hm. More warriors have passed on from my time.” Lucius ambled ahead of everyone, analyzing the generals marching to the forefront. “Some dear friends, and loyal guards. Now I’m afraid they fight for the wrong side.”

“Lucius,” Alan seethed.

“Yes, old friend?”

“Speak.”

“I’m just a lowly prisoner, to be shoved off to the Fate Chasers,” he scoffed.

Alan yanked the chains angrily, then turned to Flint. “The frog visions are always prophecies, right? This may not have happened yet.”

“Yes. Yes. It is true, Alan. Though I am afraid of the time lapse if, in fact, this is not just a smelly hiccup. These warriors wield great weapons of the fog.” He pointed to Neesha’s mother decked out in glowing spears crossed at her back. Neesha told of her being a great general, which was the very reason Neesha got trampled back at her farm in Cerrain. What’s more, she spoke of the Strader guild having pacts with god scouts. Could this all be part of some sort of plan to pass powerful warriors after death to specific factions in this universe?

Just like Mujungo… damn gods and their recruits.

“If there is any truth to this vision, these warriors may have resided in the universe of interconnected realms for some time, I’m afraid,” Flint went on.

Poof!

The visual faded like a sandy cloud, only for another to take its place.

Alan’s zoomed in face appeared amidst a terrible struggle. His eyes glowed bright white, hair whipping every which way as a cosmos of wind and star blurred past. Where the hell was he?

“Alan?” Flint scrunched his bow, taking a hesitant step forward.

As the winds picked up in the vision, as the vision zoomed out, Alan’s arms were flexed in a white-gold tunic as resplendent strings wrapped tightly around his wrists on either side. A Title floated over his head:

Affinity: God

Title: Merger of Realms

This can’t be true. Alan rejected god-hood in his own realm, and vowed he’d be better served as a broker of allies in the war to come. On the far sides of the vision, yellow orbs with clouds revolving rapidly around them pulled closer to god Alan’s body.

Flint’s mouth fell open in shock, Lucius’ jaw tightened, and Neesha only stared on in awe.

God Alan’s eyes then turned bright red as the colorful vision changed. His struggling expression relaxed into a calm wickedness as an orb rested in the palm of his hands. It began to crack just as a new Title became visible overhead.

Affinity: God

Title: Destroyer of Realms

“This universe is foul. Everything within it is undeserving. It must be wiped for something new,” God Alan’s voice rippled through the vision, shaking the very ground they were standing upon. It sounded like a raspy, distraught version of himself, like when he flunked out of college and went on a five-day sleepless bender.

As the chilling image faded, the sound of marching radiated through the background. Shield-banging, brute’s yelling, and Ojin fog swirling around them forced them back-to-back.

“The Merchant sprints to bring the solo realms together—” A familiar voice scowled from all angles.

More marching echoed.

“He must be killed and hanged for all to see. The Red Pact is what rules now,” another voice fades in the distance.

“It’s only a matter of time before Ojin is ours—”

The march fades as the vision dissipates to the circle of clairvoyant frogs staring blankly at the group.

Flint stomped up to the frogs angrily, which was way out of character. “Are you trying to kill us?”

Ribbit?

One frog hopped onto its head, then tilted to fall over. The others began floating haphazardly away while keeping their limbs still like statues.

“Hey! How can you show us such destruction, with no path to peace!” Flint shook his fist.

“The path to peace is in the forewarning, Wizard,” Lucius growled.

“Mother. Sister.” Neesha’s teeth clattered. “Killed? With the enemy?”

“We do not know our enemies yet,” Alan said. “Only Jaeger.”

“Sar’fidius is not known for his hospitality, sir Alan.” Durger turned on the group, his shadowy frame blowing in the wind. “And that marching…”

“Do not fret, everyone.” Alan rolled Lucius’ chains one link tighter around his fist, and swiped his blade. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, and save the universe from destruction. The frogs have predicted worse of me, and yet I’m still here, doing my best to protect—”

“We will see how long that lasts, captor. I sense darkness in you. My armor is drawn to corruption.” Lucius pressed one hand over his chest, activating his armor as far as the magical shackles would let him, showing the direction his black Saro wisps gravitated.

“It’s almost as if you want the universe to burn, Lucius,” Alan challenged.

“Many things will need to happen for me to find my portal.”

Flint continued shaking his fist at the floating frogs, until Alan put a hand on his arm to relax him.

“I need you with me, friend.”

“Rrh. First an evil watcher of a realm, then a destructive god? Why do they haunt us?”

“They do not haunt, Flint. They warn. Not sure if it was clear when I spoke to Mujungo in front of the town, but… I was already offered god-hood.”

“By the pig-tails of Ghestini! Is that what you meant?”

“Relax.” Alan lowered his hands. “I rejected the claim, and would a thousand times over. God-hood is not for me. They are extreme creatures corrupted by absolute power. Even the decent ones are mad.” He gestured toward the town square where Mujungo resided. “I will become a Herald, if the universe will let me, and fight the war at your side, Flint.”

Flint’s eyes looked craze, the same as they did in the pink fog of Sharas-da. He was spinning out of control because of the Frog’s prophecy. Or maybe it was the Essence of Mujungo getting the better of him. Either way, it was time to leave.

“Come. There’s no time to waste.” Alan took out his map. “We’ll portal out to the light grey fog, here, then venture through the blue for safe passage to Hightower Brack. Madam Mar will be waiting. We’ll drop this prick off, then I’ll convene with their god, Junos, and cement our first official allies. They came to Mujungo’s aid, so you, as his hand, will commit the same if Brack is ever assaulted.”

Flint’s rabid eyes calmed slightly. “Aho, ho. Aho ho.” He grimaced while tearlessly crying, pacing. “It won’t be so easy, Alan. It won’t. War plagues us. The battle against us lasted days. I cannot do it again.”

Psh!

Neesha slapped the wizard across the face. “What’s gotten into you? You are the hero of Stragney Town! Holding the fort for days until reinforcements arrived. Fighting until you were held at the brink of Mujungo’s summoning.”

“It’s the air,” Lucius said. “Mujungo sweeps all seriousness under the rug the best he can, until those emotions condense into those little angry stars we passed through as shades, Alan. They’re bursting as more citizens mourn their losses.”

Alan was reluctant to respond. If Lucius was telling the truth, all the more reason to get the hell out of Strangey. It probably didn’t help that Flint accepted to be Mujungo’s hand. He’s tethered even more so to the realm now.

They took turns dragging Flint onward to the black sand, where Alan scrolled through all of his relevant Titles, weapons and abilities. He’d have to be in tip top shape for war. Not just for fighting, but negotiations:

Alan Right

Title: Ultimas Merchant of the Borai

Affinity: Mercantile

Saro: Colorless

Title Swap: God Merchant of Strangey Town

Title Swap: Forbidden Merchant of the Shade

Title Swap: Selfless Merchant of the People

Title Swap: Centurion Merchant of Hightower Brack

He landed on his Centurion Title, considering he’d need not only to remind Junos of his previous clout with Hightower Brack, but also the defensive affinity the Title provides.

“Alright, here we are, Flint.” Alan looked around. “Is the air clear enough to cast?”

“Aho, ho.” Flint sniffed. “Yes, it seems so. It does.” He waved his staff in a complete circle, generating a white Saro ring that sounded like it just short-circuited. “Goodness! Mujungo’s presence is effecting my Saro too. It feels… unstable.”

“Do the best you can,” Alan said.

“Yes, yes.” Flint sucked in as much air as possible, making a whistling noise, then traced the same circle. Erratic black mist and blue fog wafted through the portal. It smelled of ocean and rot. Not exactly what Alan hoped. But it was a promise out.

“I cannot hold it, good Alan.” Flint frowned. “It fractures by the second.”

He yanked Lucius into his grip, then addressed the group. “It will do. To Ojin.” He leapt in, suffering the blackness of no senses, then the resurgence of immense power in the realm he knew best. Chain links reformed around his fist, and his prisoner at his side, followed by the others.

The portal malfunctioned, leaving them in the midst of un-cleared blue fog. The smell of ocean and rot was true, as well as a touch of freshly smelted steel.

Neesha ducked, trying to see past their small bubble of clarity, but the mist was too thick. “Where are we?”

“Eeeh.” Flint smacked his head a few times to get the craziness out. “Mmph. Let me get my map.”

“Shh.” Alan warned, crouching low and pointing the opposite way.

Vibrations… They were coming closer, quaking through Alan’s legs.

“Sir Alan…” Durger trembled. “That’s—”

They all silenced as the footsteps grew closer. A thousand strong, easy.

Durger was right…

The same marching from the vision.

An army.