Alan’s mouth dropped open as a prompt filled his vision.

WAR-TIME OFFER REJECTED.

Reverence with Hightower Brack depleted to 0/100

No. This is all wrong. Junos is supposed to be rational now that he’s entertained. He should be honoring our first encounter.

As soon as Alan’s reverence dropped to zero, the sky suddenly seemed gloomy, like the energy sucked right out of the realm. Is this what all the other citizens were experiencing prior to Alan’s event?

He looked up to the god’s blank mask, watching as the eyebrows curved angrily, screws endlessly tightening inward. His friends all rushed up behind him excitedly.

“Quite the entertainer there, Alan.” Itsy folded her arms.

“Good show, great Herald of the Sans. Jolly ho!” Flint smacked his shoulder.

When Alan didn’t react, the excitement fled… Neesha sneaking back into the crowd with the prince in tow.

“No?” Alan repeated Junos’ last words. “But you haven’t even heard what we’re offering.”

His friends tensed even more, now knowing that this may all have been for nothing.

Junos released Alan and stood straight. “The Red Pact will govern once the blood is settled, and Strangey Town has no part in it, I’m afraid.”

Alan took a shaky step back. “No.”

“Indeed. The answer is no.” Junos puffed his gigantic chest.

“You swore against Jaeger’s tactics the last we spoke. You aligned with good. Honor.” Alan spread his arms pleadingly. “Jaeger only seeks to conquer.”

“A seat at the high council with shared information on Ojin is something all gods seek.”

Of course. Tell a god they have unlimited power and watch them squirm when they have a gigantic blind spot. Junos wants eyes on Ojin. Governing an entire people isn’t enough.

All became clear – why his other personality wouldn’t listen to reason… because he was directed not to. Alan swept his gaze to all of the citizens resuming their slouched positions now that bets settled. Drained and reminded once again of the droll darkness surrounding them.

Their god betrayed them.

He sold them out.

It felt exactly like the two mom and pop stores surrounding his pawnshop when that developer came in to wipe the board. The pawnshop owner begged and begged to stand in unity so they could keep their work, their livelihood, their purpose. But the other owners declined.

The unwillingness to fight was a knife to the gut then. And now it’s the same.

No. Not the same.

Black dread prickled Alan’s skin, swirling into a vice around his heart. He turned his back on the god, focusing on the gown stitching back together. His gown.

“What will you do, Junos? Conquer alongside Hozzod?” Alan raised his voice so his citizens would hear.

Heads started to perk up in the worst way.

“Hozzod?” one armored Knight said.

“Impossible. We renounce Jaeger.” A wizard swiped her staff defiantly.

More clicked into place for Alan – the reason Ufanda was angry at Junos, the purpose of stripping citizens of their reverence. Brack was to become a dictatorship – robbed of its citizens’ glory.

“For the benefit of the realm,” Junos’ voice boomed as a lightning bolt streaked the sky.

“For the realm?” Alan looked over his shoulder. “Or for you?”

Commotion stirred around them. Citizens shouted their disbelief, surrounding their god. He’d never seen so many well-equipped warriors gathered in one place. Glowing weapons and high-flagged spears reminded him of the Fate Chasers. So much potential…

“Is that why you won’t defend the realm?” A tall armored Bladesman shouted. “Because we are the ones invading?”

Alan snuck carefully away toward Ufanda. “Flint. Gather Madam Mar, Sinclair, and any other disgruntled citizens, and get ready to mass portal out on my signal,” he whispered.

“You got the brass of a thousand kings.” Itsy looked between Alan and the god being surrounded. “He will smite you.”

Alan stared off at Lucius lingering with his head drooped in his shackles. “Better than being imprisoned. At least this way, there’s a chance. Go!”

He focused on the gown getting onto her airy elbows. “Hi. Sorry for tricking you… and smashing you into smithereens.”

“OooOo child. I haven’t had a dance like that in a century. It was a welcomed surprise. Though you are a naughty thing.” She shook her sleeve at Alan.

“Right. Well I extend you my warmest welcomes, and I think you’ll get along just fine with Hendra once you get to know her.”

The entire gown frowned. “She stinks of the outside. A wild Ojin mess with gravel in her hair and dirt between her toes. She needs the touch of a keeper. Then again, not sure my broom would even be enough.”

Alan smiled. The thought of Hendra in pigtails with a freshly washed double-face was comical. Also, there was a lightheartedness around her insults. But this wasn’t time to make small talk with a new friend. He instead focused on the patrolgod’s weapons laying on the floor, most notably – the broom.

He fell into a momentary trance of the gown flying through a castle window as she hummed to clean up some broken glass and scrubbed the floor of Saro residue. Since nothing was going on, Alan blinked the trance forward, to her and a few other gowns circling Junos.

Here we go.

There was animosity around the meeting – fabric flailing and statues stomping behind him too.

Why?

Alan couldn’t believe it… when he turned, who else was there but Hyndole, the crimson spewing gargoyle swathed in his own wings.

The sight of him made Alan instantly grit his teeth. Flashes of him stabbing the Strangey Town general Rishaya Blanch plagued his mind. The bastard who started this war in the first place again shows up to screw him over.

“It is done, then?” Hyndole tilted his head. “I can bring this grandiose news to Jaeger, and we can relish once the universe is under our reign, Junos of Hightower Brack? Say it so.”

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“You tell Jaeger… I want my view of the far crimson Exou lands, and endless warriors of the Red Pact realms ready to dance at my command. I enjoy variety in my events. A pact like this might actually sate my endless appetite. Tell Jaeger this, and we will break bread for the rest of time.”

The gowns all turned their backs on Junos while the statue guardians swung their heads like they’d been slapped. It was all Alan needed to see.

He blinked back to the present.

“Ufanda,” Alan sighed.

“Yes, dear?”

“Was Junos okay to lose you in the duel because you’re at odds? You give him flack about his decision to join the Red Pact.”

Her sleeves scrunched like angry fists. “That deal sullied our entire bright realm, I’m afraid. Look at them.” She waved her sleeves at the citizens. “These are all honorable warriors who built our realm from blank stone. They respect their keepers and venture to Ojin to brighten their god’s name. Now look how he betrays them. I will dance with Junos no more.”

Alan folded his lips into a line. “What if I needed you to, one last time… for the sake of the realm?”

Ufanda’s stitching scrunched like a furrowed brow.

“I intend to fight Jaeger and the Red Pact, and save everyone from this horrible fate.”

“My dear. You are a strong, colorless Merchant. Of that, there is no doubt.” She cupped Alan’s face. “But you cannot win against a string of gods pooling their armies.”

“Not now, I can’t. But give me time.” He nodded toward Junos growing frustrated at the fingers pointed to his face. “Not everyone bows to corruption.”

“There is sureness in you.” Ufanda rose to full height, swaying again in the winds as the last seams stitched together.

“Distract him for me. If you have any love for the citizens of Brack. Let me save them,” Alan said.

“Silence!” Junos roared, sending waves of citizens tumbling out of his space. “We will eat when others starve and bleed. The Red Pact is the future of the universe! How dare you defy me!”

Junos’ straight face clicked back to the overly detailed masquerade mask. “I am angered and have lost my mirth, you ungrateful citizens. Ungrateful indeed!”

“Very well, Alan. Many of these castle lords have been in my care for centuries. It would break my invisible heart to see them marching in the name of Hozzod… or worse.” She sighed. “Do your best.”

Alan narrowed his eyes as the gown flew past him to overwhelm Junos’ line of sight. It was now or never.

He unsheathed his dark blade and whipped out his souls. “Durger, Afarus, Trio. Round up whoever you can in the high castles, spread the word that their god has betrayed them, and there is refuge in the realm of Alan Right.”

The souls nodded and shot off in every direction.

“Now, Flint!” he called out. “Citizens of Hightower Brack! Junos has rejected your pleas to defend from the evil armies that march Ojin’s lands, because he intends to become them!”

Portals sizzled open all around. Flint. Madam Mar. Sinclair. They were all in agreement, conjuring the most expansive gates Alan had ever seen.

“If you seek to reclaim your honor and be welcomed in a home, my realm is open. It is barren and godless, but will provide refuge until we figure out how to defy corruption. Flee to Ojin! I will find you there!”

“Alan! To Alan!” Citizens raised their weapons and started diving into portals.

“Do not forsake your god!” One citizen protested only to be shoved out of the way.

“What is the meaning of this?” Junos grabbed Ufanda by the arm and whipped her out his way, but she swarmed into his face again.

“Make haste!” Alan called, rushing towards Flint’s portal. “We will find our own way, away from madness!”

In a fit of anger, Junos slashed down Ufanda’s fabric, causing a terribly loud rip before Alan coined her for the first time. As god and Merchant stared one another down in the eye of Brack’s growing storm, Alan held out his hand to receive the flipping coin.

“You betrayed us all, Junos. And soon you will have no one to rule.” Alan snatched the coin and fell back into the portal.

xxx

As soon as Alan reformed in Ojin, frantic shouts echoed all around him. A civil war was beginning to break out. Enchanted sword clashed with mighty axe. Arrows whizzed by Neesha holding her head with a chained Lucius following behind.

Angry Junos’ followers leapt through the portals with weapons reeled, but a buff Wizard waited to shove them back using powerful Beige Saro sand pulses. It was hard to tell who was who, but those blindly swinging were a pretty sure tell.

“Hey now, this is fun.” Itsy scooped up a pile of rocks at her bare feet and magically sharpened them into throwing knives that she hurled.

“We have to regroup at my realm,” Alan called, whipping out his Soul Collector. He summoned Voltair – his flaming horse – to materialize under him and carry him over the battle. “To me! Rally to me!”

“Aho!” Flint leapt over a diving body like a hurdler and froze him mid-air. “Should I freeze the portals shut? This is getting a little out of hand.”

Alan grimaced. “Anyone against Junos stuck on the other side will be slaves in a colosseum. We need to let them through.”

“I was right about you, Merchant.” Itsy knocked out a Knight’s teeth with a sure shot to the mouth. “This is way better than farming beasts. Truly, what kind of idiots would follow a god who betrays his people?”

Alan swiped an arrow meant for his head, then stared knowingly at Itsy. “Fearful ones, Itsy.”

Madam Mar stood against a Wizard threatening Yellow lightning Saro with a pointed wand. As soon as the weapon ignited gold however, Mar inhaled a deep breath to claim the Saro for herself and whipped a bolt through the Wizard’s chest.

“Madam!” Flint called.

A duel-wielding Bladeswoman dove to cut her from behind, but Alan leapt off his horse with White Saro winds at his feet to propel him, and slashed both swords out of the woman’s grasp with a flash of Red. He held his sword at her throat for a second, then kicked her in the face to send her tumbling to a bruise-filled sleep.

“Woo. Close one.” Mar adjusted her cloak.

“Open communications with the Fate Chasers. Tell them the situation and not to return to Brack. We can use them.”

“A fine plan.” Mar took out her Dreamcatcher’s net and began waving it for inklings of the Chasers.

Bodies flew overhead. Spells arced into the portals, and out of them. It wasn’t long before Alan realized the Junos followers were severely outnumbered. Wounded bodies were tossed back into the portal by victorious Knights. The citizens grouped around Alan with weapons at the ready.

“The Pact will be on you before the Chasers get here.” Lucius rattled in his chains. “Flee to your realm, Alan, before it’s too late.”

Alan scoffed. The prince was right. He couldn’t let anyone know he had a place for refugees to settle. He was almost sure Junos didn’t hear him declare it, and if any rival Red Pact armies saw him escaping to an unknown godless realm, it would surely be in danger.

As forces gathered at Alan’s back, one of the portals in front of him expanded to show Hightower Brack clearly in view – like a circular window with magical wisps at the fringes. Two highly decorated warriors sprinted with Junos stomping angrily behind them. Sharpskin was out, fangs rattling with lightning.

One of the decorated Knights slammed down a molten shield while waving Archers through.

Alan held his breath as Junos raised the sword to the sky.

The god’s eye remained on Alan as clouds swirled overhead. Could he see him?

Alan shook his head. “Don’t. There your own citizens. Don’t—”

Junos flexed his pecs, commanding two bright bolts to strike the two defending warriors to crisps, leaving them to fall immediately to ash on the Brack grounds. The final Archers flew through with tears in their eyes upon reforming, and with a solemn nod, Alan told Flint to freeze the portals.

“Any word on the Chasers?” Alan said.

“They will make way, Alan. You go. Let me stay behind,” Mar said.

“No. We stay together. I’ll return to Ojin once they’re close.” Alan Title-swapped to Ultimus Merchant and spawned his own portal to his realm. “For now, we flee.”

Alan was careful to watch all of the other warriors admitted into his portal, keeping Mar and Sinclair at his sides to sniff out citizens that may be posing as spies. He wasn’t used to the idea of this growing responsibility, but it was in line with his mission to make a difference. It felt good to help, and awful to watch a realm topple. Another confirmation that he hadn’t succumbed to the darkness of his weapons or the Black. The frogs were false. Alan was good.

As the last of the Brack warriors rushed into the portal, Alan motioned for his friends to head in next. “Welcome to my home,” he said.

Flint and Neesha patted his shoulder on the way in. And Itsy lingered.

She stood there, picking her teeth with one of the stone knives she made.

“Yes, Itsy?” Alan said.

“You know, Merchant. You’re alright. Better than alright. Even though you were full of shit, I think you can actually make a difference in this dumbass war.”

“Gee thanks.” Alan frowned.

She shifted her lips to either side, considering something. “Yeah, I think so,” she spoke to herself. “Yeah.” She nodded. “I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” Alan was losing patience with the odd Knight.

“I’ll talk to my brother – hand to Gosfor, and get those bitches on your side,” she winked.

“But weren’t they trying to get rid of you?” Alan asked delicately.

She thumbed her own chest. “No one gets rid of Itsy Boyar, especially when she come’s a knockin’.”

Alan was losing confidence in her by the second, but then she turned serious.

“Now I know what happens when a god turns on its people, ey? Gosfor of the Royal Horde might be a people pleaser by nature, but he ain’t no dummy. I show him proof of what happened at Hightower Brack? He’ll be listening. Bet your pretty little ass.”

Alan perked up a bit.

“Besides.” Itsy hit him on the back with a wide smile. “Ya’ got no choice, Merch. You need a War Title, remember? Without that, you’re a sitting duck. I’m literally the only one who could fight an army for you stupids right now. The only one. That sexy Wizard’s ice would melt to mist against Bubbin. Your army of refugees been too busy worrying about realm reverence to pay attention to what’s what.” She pressed a finger to her temple.

She’s not as dumb as she acts.

Itsy turned one of the stone knives into a Gray essence and ate it. “The universe is changing, Merch. Best to change with it.”