The caravan stopped outside the entrance gate to Riley’s Farm. DeSean dropped off from the side of the van. Soon as he hit the ground, he collapsed into a heap of a man. He’d been enduring a lot action and accumulated damage in less than two hours.

DeSean sighed. He shook out the soreness in his van-holding arm and reloaded his weapon, exchanging the empty magazine with a full one that was in the waistband of his jeans. Instilled in him was the good sense to recycle all armaments, so he slipped the empty magazine into his waistband.

Locked and loaded, DeSean patted his body. His grimy hand got covered in a film of blood. None of the wounds felt life threatening. He might need some stitches, though.

Bad ass scars, incoming. He chuckled to himself, his funny mood opposing the shouts and cries sounding up and down the caravan.

Quinton lumbered over to him, leaving the truck idled. DeSean looked past him and saw Mariah standing outside the truck, staring back.

DeSean pointed his free hand at her before Quinton got a word. “What are you doing? Anything can ambush us at this very second. Keep your head on a swivel.”

Mariah gave him a frustrated look and turned away, raising her gun to do as told.

“D, you’re not good with kids,” Quinton said, offering a hand to help DeSean up. The Marine Vet took the aid. “And what the fuck happened back there? I would’ve gotten out of dodge if the gunfire didn’t sound controlled and disciplined.”

“He shot the person that was driving behind us!” screamed the botany girl. The college students stayed in the van, looking at DeSean and Quinton with wide eyes.

“My ears hurt,” Hailey said, her hands still on the wheel with a grip that would need a crowbar to pry. “I didn’t know guns sounded that loud. I used to join campaigns that wanted to get rid of them, but I have never been near one. God, they’re so loud.”

“Hailey’s a political major,” DeSean said offhandedly. “But she’s decent at following directions under pressure, so that’s good.”

Quinton nodded slowly. “Are you okay, man? You got blood all over you?”

“I’m the black knight,” DeSean said. “Merely flesh wounds.”

“Is that a Monty Python meme?” asked the art history guy. “Am I right?”

“All of you wait here,” DeSean said. He gestured for Quinton to walk with him while he did his best to hide his limp. Every step made his cuts burn, and he was missing that super juice called adrenaline. He wasn’t going to pull off the black knight meme for long.

DeSean brought them off the dirt trail and into the field, tall grass grasping at their legs. He could feel everyone’s eyes on his back, but he shrugged it off and focused on the here and now.

He wasn’t the kid who disappeared into the background anymore. A kid who’d find somewhere to hide while he listened to punk, death metal, heavy underground alternative rap while fantasizing about suicide. He was grown up, and he had grown-up shit to do.

And that meant finding ways to take care of others as part of your responsibilities.

“I need you to do me a favor,” DeSean said.

“Anything,” Quinton said automatically.

This guy is too genuine. If DeSean was a more unscrupulous person… meh, it didn’t matter. DeSean appreciated the guy’s willingness to fulfill a role without even hearing it. It didn’t matter what branch of the service anyone joined. They all shared a core understanding of duty above self.

DeSean sighed. “I need you to be the officer. The guy everyone looks to during the down periods. In a sense, you’ll ensure they get fed, treated decently, or be the person they talk to about their feelings.”

“You want me to be a friendly face while you get to be a dick,” Quinton summarized.

“If I have to be a dick. I just think it’ll be ineffective if I try to handle both sides of the coin. Maybe that’s a weakness on my part and⁠—”

“D, don’t even go there. You’re doing a lot already. All I’ve done is drive. You’ve gone and checked on every car without having us stop. That’s insane, even for a Marine.”

Eh, I’ve seen and done more insane things than that. DeSean thought. He took the compliment in stride, not denying it or hyping it up any further than necessary. He muttered thanks and kept the conversation going.

“Are you interested in the role?” DeSean asked.

“Yeah, I can do a good job putting up a front.” Quinton nodded before furrowing his brow. “Now that you got that off your chest, you need to tell me what the fuck happened back there.”

DeSean explained the situation with the last vehicle that tagged along, and the ear-to-ear grin stretched across the driver’s face. She didn’t act in a way a reasonable person would, especially when he shot out the tire.

Quinton looked at him hard and long. “Are you saying that person could be one of those Enlightened Chosen? We need to be sure on this because we might see a whole lot more of them, and we don’t really know their capabilities.”

“We’re already starting to see what they’re capable of. The electricity is still on. One of the girls back there is a social media addict, and she’s getting posts that sound like well-tailored propaganda. It’s barely been a few hours, and the Enlightened⁠—no⁠—the enemy is trying to herd us into traps.”

Quinton opened and closed his mouth, his eyes veering off into the distance. Then he said, “You told that girl not to message anyone, right?”

“Fuck!” DeSean twisted around and was about to fly back to the van when Quinton grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Ease up, ease up. Let me handle that.”

“We can’t stay here if they⁠—”

“If they track the GPS, yes, I know. But you need a breather.”

“We also need to clear this site and grab whatever we can before we hightail it,” DeSean added.

“Which means you need a quick five minutes before we clear the area,” Quinton said firmly. “I’ll be your face, DeSean, but I think there’s more to it than just that. I’ll be here to help you from destroying yourself, too.”

DeSean shifted side-to-side, riding on a new spike of adrenaline that got his heart rate up again. It was going to crash soon. He didn’t want to crash.

“Five minutes should be enough to distribute my new Od stats.”

“You got more?” Quinton asked.

“I got five Free Od after killing four people today.” DeSean paused. “Well, three hostile people and one possible chosen enemy.”

The Air Force veteran’s eyebrows shot into the air. He mouthed “what the fuck” without saying it. He wiped the surprise off his face, returning to a no-nonsense business look. “Endurance. You should invest in Endurance. Maybe even toss a point toward Strength if you’re going to keep getting hit a bunch. Either way, you need Endurance, man.”

“You sure?” DeSean asked.

“I convinced my mom to invest in Endurance and Focus, and she says she feels as energetic and sharp as she did years ago. Maybe more.” Quinton rubbed the back of his neck. “This is a fucked up apocalypse, but the Status Tablet is kind of amazing. It actually works. I can see through the dark a bit better than before. My mind is running faster, too.”

“Good to hear, Pointdexter,” DeSean said. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

“Right, I’ll handle the van and the people in the sedan. You take a break in the truck. We’ll move out in ten minutes.”

“Five minutes.”

“Fine, fine, devil dog.”

Before they split up, DeSean passed Quinton the rifle. Since he stuck with iron sights, Quinton wouldn’t have to readjust the sights unless he was shooting far into the distance. Under that circumstance, it would be better to flee or charge, anyway.

DeSean trotted over to the truck, slowing down when he found an ear in the ground. It was uncanny how it looked fleshy, yet it was fused with the environment. Out of curiosity, he bent down, hissing in pain as his wounds flare, and felt over the ear.

DeSean felt a mixture of grit and flesh. It was a ghoulish sensation. “Can anyone hear me down there?” he asked. The ear quivered. Something was listening. But there was no response. Maybe it needed a mouth to speak with.

“If anyone’s listening, I got responses tailored for you depending on where you stand with this apocalypse. If you’re enjoying this, fuck you. If you’re just another cog in the machine, lend me more information. Where are the chaos zones? Chaos portals? How do I use magic to do something worth my time?”

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The ear quivered more and more, but DeSean received no response. Once he fell silent, the ear stopped quivering.

DeSean straightened, endured more flashes of pain, and walked stiffly to the pickup truck. Mariah was there with her gun raised, glancing his way occasionally.

“You really do like watching me,” DeSean said.

“I want to make sure you’re not a psycho.”

“But I am a psycho,” DeSean said, sitting on the truck’s step bars. He could go for a smoke right now. But the area wasn’t clear, and a cigarette stood out in the dark. “Roberto, can you go in the back and get me a rifle.”

“Okay!”

While the kid scrambled around in the back, Quinton’s mom popped her head outside of the driver’s window. “What happened back there?” she asked.

DeSean told them that they’ve probably encountered an Enlightened Chosen. He also told them to not post anything online and turn off their phones’ GPS. Allison hesitated at first but went out of her way to deactivate her phone and show him.

“So, we’re fighting crazy people that got brainwashed by the light?” Roberto asked, handing DeSean a fully loaded rifle. “Can’t we snap them out of it?”

“Maybe if this was the type of anime where everything can be solved with the power of friendship,” DeSean said. “But I’ve killed four people in two hours. With that track record, chances are we’ll see me kill more.

“I’ve gained more Od out of it, too,” he added.

The last bit caught Mariah and Roberto’s attention.

“I think I’m going to continue investing in Attunement and see where it goes.”

“You look like you need more Endurance, son. That’s helping me a lot right now. It’s my bedtime, and usually, my husband and I would be dead to the world and….” Allison fell into a morose silence.

Under the dim moonlight, Mariah scrunched up her face as if judging all the adults for their weaknesses. Teenage girls were brutal.

“Watch out for me. I might get weird,” DeSean asked, setting his rifle aside.

“We shouldn’t have to,” Mariah hissed.

“I’ll keep a lookout, D,” Roberto mumbled.

Good kid. I need to make sure he gets some new pants.

DeSean knew Endurance might’ve been an excellent stat to invest in right now. He could use it. But that would ignore the aura flowing around his skin. It had gotten a little thicker as of recently, especially when he concluded business with the possible Enlightened Chosen earlier.

DeSean didn’t notice it at first, but thinking back, the aura had grown larger with every kill he’d committed. It wasn’t so noticeable when he put away Mr. Gilbert in a fierce firefight over gun resources. He could undoubtedly trace its growth when he’d taken down those two idiots that shot randomly at people.

It was impossible to ignore after killing the Enlightened Chosen. While the body was weak, the magical aura was strong. It was not affected by his boo-boos and owies. Hell, it felt like it was pressed up against its limits, as if stuffed in a tight space, begging to get out.

DeSean concentrated on his Status Tablet with intent and slotted his 5 Free Od into Attunement, bumping up his Od Level simultaneously.

Od Level: 45

Strength: 6

Agility: 7

Endurance: 7

Focus: 8

Attunement: 17

Free Od: 0

The limits to his aura expanded, and so did DeSean’s intangible inner being. He was like a prune being inflated into a more recognizable fruit. Like a fat, juicy orange. Then the orange hummed with greater force that couldn’t be perceived by the five senses.

In other words, the power of Attunement was touching on something deeper down. The soul. DeSean could honestly feel that as truth. With his soul’s connection with magic strengthening, DeSean felt more at ease with the fantastical, reality-sundering energy introduced to his body. His magical depth grew, and the skin-tight field expanded further from his body. It was encompassing a few feet from his body now.

The mind-melting high from before wasn’t present, but DeSean still got a really nice buzz out of the growth. The eyes remained in the sky. The ears stayed low to the ground. Nothing much changed except… he had this new hunch inside his gut. Or his diaphragm. Most likely gut.

It was a weak feeling, but he could sense it was pointing toward a particular direction. North. Then all of a sudden it faded away.

Huh. What could that have been?

Whatever it was, the gut feeling was gone now. DeSean paid his attention to his expanded field instead.

“Can anyone feel something in the air?” DeSean asked.

“It’s a little chilly,” Roberto said, sitting on the edge of the cab.

DeSean glanced over to Quinton, who was now talking to the family in the sedan. DeSean completely forgot about them and could see Quinton was working with all his charm and good looks to calm them down. Looking past them, DeSean could see Hailey had released the driving wheel to the van and was turned toward the other occupants.

Nobody was paying much attention to DeSean except for the people nearest to him. “You guys ever wanted to do magic?”

“I did,” Robert said, “but⁠—”

“But magic is used by evil people,” Mariah said. “If magic is really real, then this apocalypse is because of magic.”

“Well, child, there are different uses of magic,” Allison said. “There’s the magic of goodness and grace in our spirits. I believe in that magic.”

“That’s stupid,” Mariah huffed.

DeSean snorted. “I tried to summon a demon when I was around your age, Mariah.”

“Uh, isn’t that a bad thing?” Roberto asked, flabbergasted.

DeSean continued without missing a beat. “I drew a circle with chalk in my parents’ attic. This was before they divorced. I lit black candles. Placed a dead bat in the middle. I had a leathery book from a weird antiquated store’s bargain bin and a simple wish. Kill my dad, and my life is yours.”

Mariah’s mouth fell open.

“Oh, child….” Allison drone.

“What happened?” Roberto asked, enraptured.

Mariah hurled a few choice words in Spanish at her little brother.

DeSean moseyed on with the story. “Nothing happened. Magic wasn’t real. But it’s real now. The problem is I can’t solidify my choice in magic.”

“You have choices of magic?” Roberto asked, ignoring his sister’s pointed looks.

DeSean grabbed his rifle and rested it on his lap. He tapped on the barrel. “Something like that. It’s kind of a problem. I’m muddled up with different concepts, I think. Like, death has its place in me. But being a hellion has its place, too. Or being a force of untold destruction. There’s also a primal fear aspect to me. It gives me such an adrenaline high I become a junkie to it.”

“I didn’t think you were afraid of anything,” Mariah said lowly.

“People with no fear are nutjobs,” DeSean said. “I’m just good at hiding it.”

“DeSean, all of those paths don’t sound… healthy,” Allison said, choosing her words carefully.

“No, but one of them is probably the most fun for me,” DeSean said as Quinton walked back up.

“Alright, I talked to everyone riding with us, did a quick headcount, and ensured all phones turned off their GPS signals. To our luck, the social media girl didn’t….” Quinton trailed off, sensing something wrong. “Okay, what is D doing now?”

“Everything you’ve said about your friend here is more accurate than I anticipated,” Allison said.

“Seriously, D, what did you do? Or say?” Quinton glared at him.

“Just been talking about my Attunement choices.”

“Gawd dammit, you invested in that wacky stat again! Does it even work?”

DeSean reached out with his open palm. He concentrated on the new sensations he’d gotten access to since he pumped Od into Attunement. His magic aura flared. The humming grew stronger like a charged-up electric current running through his body. The magic field spiraled around him, unnoticed by everyone else.

Then he focused on his intent. He latched onto the truth of his core, the path of magic he wanted the most.

DeSean was many things growing up, but there was one truth that burned hotter than the rest. He was a hellion of a person. Each of his other facets surrounded that core identity.

DeSean smiled, feeling centered, solidified, and sure of what he wanted. He imagined a crimson circle burned into the air above his palm⁠—it came to be.

“Sweet Baby Jesus!” Quinton shouted, stumbling back, the horror on his face illuminated by the bright glow of the summoning circle.

“I had an imaginary demon friend,” DeSean said a little sheepishly. “Her name was Lilith. Maybe whatever this is won’t be her but⁠—”

Alien constellations and words twinkled in and out above the summoning circle. The air wavered, twisted, hardened into edges, and lines like jagged pieces of glass fused together. A strident pop filled the area, displacing air that billowed against their faces. A tiny form the size of a gerbil standing on its hindlegs appeared on DeSean’s palm.

The crimson light faded, and the summoned creature remained. Its little clawed feet pricked his palm as it settled into his grasp with all the weight of a real, breathing thing.

“Oh, wow,” DeSean said.

“Oh, wow?!” Quinton yelled. “What do you mean, oh, wow! You… you summoned a thing.”

“You’re supposed to be the calm one, Quinton,” DeSean said.

Quinton’s face shifted from indignant anger to quivering frustration. Then it settled on disbelief and awe, powered by curiosity, no doubt. The nerd in him was probably going to overlook the fact that DeSean summoned a demon.

“I thought demons were supposed to be ugly and evil,” Roberto said. “But look, Mariah, it’s… it’s….”

“Cute,” Mariah muttered, losing part of her rebellious edge.

The little creature was an interesting mixture of leathery bat wings, fluffy crimson fur collar and chest, and bird-like legs. It also had a humanoid face with porcelain-white skin. Its maroon, doll-like eyes had slitted irises. And a shock of raven hair flowed between two large, pointy, elven ears. She stretched her wings out, revealing she had no other limbs than what was present.

Roberto tried to scratch the demon’s belly. The demon hissed, baring her little fangs, scaring the preteen away.

The demon glowered at Roberto before centering her attention on DeSean. Without a word, she flapped her wings and flew to DeSean’s shoulder.

“Hm, you are weak for a summoner,” the demon said with a voice that was surprisingly deep, throaty, and sultry. “I’ve sent this tiny fragment of myself to you, little one, for you have acquired my interest.”

“Is that so, Ma’am?” DeSean hedged carefully.

“I’ve never taken on a contract with a mortal of you level before,” the demon said, licking her thumb claw and running it over her hair. “This is quite new for me. But I’ve been instructed that it’s easier done now since you are weak and unnoticed rather than when you become too expensive of an investment.”

Huh, I’m a stock, DeSean thought. Hopefully, he was the good kind or at least a very highly prized crypto.

“Well, I suppose introductions are in order,” the little demon said. “I am Princess Lylothia, commander of thirty battle legions, mistress of the Deadly Crimson Forest Lands, and ruler of the Forty-First Disc of Seventy-Two Hells.”

She performed a little curtsy, sweeping her wing majestically with all the suave charm of demonic royalty.

“While this chaos-marked mortal has the Attunement to sustain me,” Lylothia said, “I shall aid you on your quest to reach⁠—”

Lylothia disappeared.

DeSean slid off his seat and dropped to the dirt, feeling like a dried-up fruit. His mana depth was reduced to a shallow pool. The humming faded, and strange tiredness entered his mind.

Everyone gawked down at him.

Quinton was the first to react, kneeling to offer aid. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Summoning and maintaining a demon princess might be too pricey for my Attunement right now,” DeSean said.

“D, I don’t even know what to say to that.”