We strive not to live, but to become more.

* The Book of Wrecker

8 Minutes Later (Wreckworld Time) - Copycat - Kitchen

“He’s not really your husband, you know.” says Presto. “You don’t even know him. The real him.”

Our escape plan has hit a snag. We’re quibbling over the guest list.

“I know he’s a fierce intellect, a gentle lover, and a troubled soul. I’m not leaving him here.”

Presto shrugs. “Fair enough. We could always use another gentle lover. Does he want to escape, or do we have to tie him up?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure.” I pause in thought. “He doesn’t trust me. But we’re not abducting him. I’m done with that. So, he needs to make a decision. But an informed decision. We need his sacred text.”

Presto frowns as sirens blare over the city.

“Oh cool, we could just leave, but you’d rather rob the place I just got done robbing, Break into the most secure place in the Wreckworld ten minutes after they realized they’ve been broken into. Return to the scene of the crime - immediately. Just pop in, like, oops we forgot something, won’t be a moment.” He polishes off his beer, tosses it. “Actually, they probably won’t expect that. Alright, let’s get it done.”

He storms out of the villa. I snag my helmet and spear and follow sheepishly. Do we have a plan? I’m afraid to ask.

There’s a naiad waiting at our waterfront, guzzling wine.

“I need another bubble.” says Presto. “A fast one. We’re breaking into the Forbidden Library again. Going in hot this time.”

“Fucking A.” She forms a depression in the water. “Give’em hell, gorgeous.”

Presto hops in the bubble. I hesitate. “Should we get our armor? This seems like a dress up party.”

“Nope. Our armor’s blessed by Wrecker. It’s half the reason we keep coming back here when we die.”

What?! I throw my helmet away in disgust. Fucking thing was useless anyway.

We blast off towards the city centre. Like, really blast off. I thought the naiads went fast during birthday victory laps, but this a whole new level. We’re sucking up half the canal and spitting it behind us in a writhing peacock tail of tornadic waterspouts, rainbows, and thunderclouds.

The marble walls of the canals crumble as we pass. The wind scours my eyes, our naiad howls in ecstacy, Presto staggers to the prow and brandishes his rune sword like the statue of a particularly demented general. Flickers of electricity bleed from his blade, seeding and supercharging the thunderclouds in our wake.

We’re riding high, heavy, and hot. The storm’s riding with us. Fuck you Wreckworld.

The Forbidden Library is a beehive of aggressive suspicion. Hundreds of anxious warrior wizards interrogate each other in a circular firing squad of paranoia. We broadside them like a colossal thunderbolt water hammer. Which is unsurprising, because that’s who we are.

The collision annihilates the library. Crushing walls, wizards, and any hope of keeping secrets. The canals run thick with bricks, bodies, and books. A few battered wizards remain, but our naiad rides a waterspout right over them, power washing them from the property.

Presto and I land gently in front of the last structure standing - a concrete bunker with a shabby garden on its roof.

“Marcus’ office.” Presto nods. “Vali’s sacred text is probably in there. Or it’s downstream. We may have already fucked this up. Let’s check the office anyway. We’re already here.”

I nod, and we enter the fortified office on high alert. There’s heavy shelves with thousands of books. A couple mediocre flower arrangements. A rough hewn desk with a massive chair. The chair slowly rotates to face us.

“I’ve been expecting you.” The large green dragonman shakes his head. “Actually, I wasn’t. We were supposed to meet later at Copycat’s house. What the fuck are you doing back here?”

“Forgot a book, just popping in.” says Presto. "Won't be a moment.”

“Well, that seems like poor planning.”

"We're doing plans now?” Presto peers at the bookshelves. “I thought we just did stuff. Where’s the V section?"

“Between U and W.”

“Ah, right you are. Let’s see…” Presto mumbles to himself as he scans the shelves.

I poke Cyan with the butt of my spear. Seems solid. “How’s you get here?”

“I’ve been here the whole time.” says Cy. “They made me part of the Library’s Investigation Squad. Marcus left a book out and I got some memories back. I’ve been covertly trying to get you guys back for a while now. It was pretty stealthy until dad started helping.”

“Why’d Marcus leave your book out?”

“He didn’t, he left your book out. He’s obsessed with you. And you’re obsessed with me. I’m in there, like, eight times. It’s only three pages long.”

I shrug. “I like you.”

“Fair enough. I’m a great guy.”

Presto is frustrated. “Vale... Valery… Fuck, no Vali. What about this? Is this him?”

He pulls out an ancient scroll. It’s a roll of worn, uncured, skin wrapped around a yellowed bone. The outer layer has one word tattooed on it in thick runic script - Valiant.

“Yeesh, I hope not. I think I’d notice if he was missing that much skin.”

“Not the skin! Is this his sacred text?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

He underhands it to me, and I gingerly peel back the top layer. The inside is crowded with thousands of tiny runes. And hair and the odd mole. Gross. But tempting. I’d like to read it - see what I’m up against - but there’s no time. I can hear a commotion brewing outside. Also, it would be a dick move to read his sacred text without permission. Good thing there’s no time.

We bail out of the office to a rising chorus of agony. Our naiad is staring downstream in horror. There’s a black light emanating from the water, dissolving the flesh of any hapless wizard close enough to absorb it’s rays.

It’s getting closer.

“I think maybe we didn’t kill Marcus.” muses Presto. “Time to go?”

I hear heavy flapping overhead. “Not yet.”

Cato lands in the ruin of the library. Sneers. “I should have guessed. Come for another lesson Presto? I - HUURKK!!”

My spear takes Cato in the gut. “FUCK YOU!!!” A thrust kick to it’s butt end staples him to a fragment of wall.

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I expect him to die, pinned like a giant facist butterfly. But instead he slides forward. Oozing up the shaft of my spear, lightning flickering around his wound, gathering in his hands. Behind us, the black death looms ever closer.

“Okay. Now I’m ready to go.”

We hustle to the canal and blast off for home. Scorch into the property to see Vali peering concernedly at the clusterfuck about the library. D’aww. Disaster struck and he rushed home to check on me. I snag his sacred text and skip over to him.

“Hey sexy! I brought you a new book! Maybe this one will make more sense.”

I slap the creepy scroll into his unresisting palm. He looks at it with shock, but that’s normal. I was pretty shook up when Presto revealed my text. He’s gonna read it and remember that he loves me. This is gonna be so great.

He shakes it open, takes it in. His shock fades, slowly replaced by intensity. Drops the scroll. Clutches his head with both hands. Drags his nails down his scalp, scouring deep furrows in his skin, letting blood, and shredding tattoos.

“WRECKER!!!”

He roars, ripping his nails across his chest, down his arms.

“DAMN YOU WRECKER!!!”

Rage filled and blood covered, he howls. He’s getting bigger.

“YOU WANT ME?!?”

Bigger and bigger. Well past the tubby hill giants I’m tasked to kill. Past our home and it’s giant telescope. Stretching towards the sky. Huge. Massive. Colossal.

“YOU GOT ME!!!”

Free from all bonds, Valiant the Sky Giant advances on the Ziggurat Palace of Wrecker, crushing his great works with each mighty stride.

“Holy shit!” exclaims our Naiad. It perfectly encapsulates the prevailing mood. She’s a poet.

“I gotta help my girls!” She blasts off.

We watch in awe as Vali defies all comers in the murderous bastard capital of the nine realms. Praetorians are slapped from the sky. Battle Magi are crushed by the battalion. The Action School is flattened. Magic missiles are absorbed. Fire and ice ignored. Lightning scoffed at.

It looks like a clean run until he’s poisoned by black light. It rots his flesh and slows his advance.

“Dammit!” swears Cy. He pulls out his sacred text. “Note to self - kill Marcus better.”

Marcus has stopped Vali, but can’t put him down. It’s become a battle of attrition. Necrosis versus regeneration.

“You know what’s weird?” asks Presto. “Where’s Wrecker? He’s the most powerful guy in the realm. You’d think he’d step out for this. Is he even real?”

“What do you mean?” asks Cy.

With Vali stalled, Wreckworld’s forces are able to mount a counter strike. A gross hoard of wizards and citizens flank him with destructive spells. It’s effective until the canals break their banks and waterspouts start sweeping wide holes thru the formations of wizards.

“Maybe he’s a long con by Marcus and Cato. You know, pretend there’s an unreachable wise man in charge, and everything’s his idea. Meanwhile you do whatever you want, and nobody calls your shit, because they think there’s a heavy in the ziggurat backing you up.”

Cy shakes his head. “Making a fake god seems needlessly complicated. Why bother?”

“Because priests of a mad god have authority. Without the god, you’re just an opinionated weirdo.” Presto nods. “Trust me, it’s a great scam. I’ve done it a bunch of times. Loads of fun.”

A group of dwarves tunnel out from under the flattened Action School. Wild and furious, they start whipping wizards with severed scorpion tails. A few of them clench the venomous tails in their mouths and dive into the canal. They swim swiftly towards Marcus, the black light smouldering - but not consuming - their thick skin.

“It is kind of weird that Wrecker’s not out here.” muses Cyan. “Maybe he’s a deep sleeper?”

I shrug. “I could ring his doorbell.”

I point at the bronze temple at the top of the ziggurat. Concentrate on what I truly desire. A small bolt of destructive energy zaps thru the palace door. There’s a few seconds delay, then smoke begins pouring out of the windows.

Presto is impressed. “Nice shot! And no reaction. We’ve been tiptoeing around a god who doesn’t even exist.”

KRACK-AT-AT!!!

The ziggurat bursts asunder. Another huge giant erupts from within, backed by a torrent of lava. The two colosi roar and charge each other, blowing eardrums with a tremendous smack as acres of meat collide.

“Huh.” says Presto “I wonder if that’s really him?”

Cy groans. “For fuck’s sake…”

I expect Wreckworld to rally around their newly active god, but I guess we’re past that. Marcus is battling hand to hand with smouldering, naked, dwarves. It’s a fast, fierce, fight that’s about to be buried in lava, but that’s not enough to make either side back down. The naiads cede the canals to molten rock, and take their water to the streets in a cyclical tsunami of madness and destruction. The citizens have stopped attacking Vali, and turned on each other. Deciding disaster is an opportunity to settle outstanding accounts. The Saint’s Gate is a mobius strip of murder, as amnesatic war wizards are chucked through it at ever increasing speeds. Living only long enough to kill and be killed, before they start over with even less idea of why they’re fighting, which side they’re on, or how to get off this ride. Millions of monks and petitioners are storming the undefended city walls for the fuck knows why, but probably violence. And in the middle of it all, two giants are trying to choke each other, rolling in a pool of lava, splashing meteors of molten rock in all directions.

Presto rolls a joint, smokes. “Twas a thin veneer of civilization.”

I take a hit. “Did we wreck Wreckworld?”

“No. We stole two books. If your society can’t survive library crime, that’s on you. Maybe you shouldn’t kidnap and torture millions of people.”

I shake my head. Wander over to Vali’s scroll. Let’s see what kicked this off.

It’s an epic poem. A saga of torment, and betrayal, and lies. I don’t see my name. Didn’t see his name in my text either. “I guess we didn’t know each other.”

Presto and Cy look glum on my behalf. I wave away their concern. “Let’s get out of here.”

Cy nods with supportive glumness. “I don’t say this enough, but I love you guys. Aye, let’s get out of here.”

We all nod. Look at each other. Keep looking. It gets awkward.

“So, how do we get out of here?” asks Presto.

“I thought you were getting us out of here.” I say.

Cy clutches his brow. “I fucking hate you guys! How do we not have a plan to get out of here?”

The monastic hoard breaches the wall, bringing extra fire and murder to sufficiency of hot death. We’ve got a minute or two until they reach us.

“Hmm.” Presto pats his bag of holding. “If you guys hop in the sack, I could probably get us to Gianthome.”

“Fuck Gianthome, fuck your sack, and fuck you.” states Cy. “I’m never getting in that bag again.”

“I admire your resolve. Does it come with an alternate plan?” snarks Presto, as fiery death sprints towards us.

Cyan frowns in thought. “I could probably get to Helhome.”

“Yikes. That’s a tough neighborhood. Why don’t we just get murdered here?”

Cy is tentatively determined. “The Helhome time difference is huge. Each day on Lowgarden is, like, 250 years down there. You haven’t been there for - I don’t know - 3 million years? They’ve probably fixed it up.”

Presto shakes his head. “They never fix it up.”

“Well, at least they won’t remember you.” snaps Cy. “Look, the place is huge, we just need to pop in long enough to get our bearings, learn a new travel spell, and piss off. Surely that’s safer than staying here?”

We’re now completely surrounded by chaotic death. It’s rushing in from all sides. “Sounds like a great plan.” I say. “Let’s do it.”

Presto sighs. “And how do we go with you?”

Cy shrugs. “Get in the sack?”

And that’s the story of how I got in Presto Longstrider’s bag of holding. I expected it to be a rat hole full of roaches and empty beer bottles, but it’s actually quite nice. Like, really nice.

We slide down a ladder, into a large conservatory filled with beautiful plants, crowded bookshelves, and a modest laboratory. There’s birds chirping, butterflies fluttering, and Duke picking softly on his mandolin. I smell freshly baked muffins.

“Holy shit, why have we been sleeping in tents?”

“Bah, Cy won’t get in here. Says we always end up in Gianthome when he does. Which, admittedly, has happened a couple times.”

Duke brings us lemonade and muffins. Gives me a stack of comfy clothes and my old gnomic vest. It’s been laundered and patched.

“Thank you, Duke.”

“Don’t touch me.” He mumbles affectionately.

We wash up, then take our snacks to the library. Cozy into a pair of wingback chairs next to a large barrel of arrows labeled correspondence. I scan a few of the books. They have diverse titles like Fire Spells, How To Tame An Ostrich, and People To Avoid In Darkhome. Their only unifying theme is their font - all are scrawled in Presto’s handwriting.

“Are these all your sacred texts?”

Presto grins. “Told you I was complicated.”

We finish our muffins. Stare at each other.

“Figure that’s long enough?” I ask.

Presto nods, stands. “Yep. Let’s go see where we're at.”

We climb out of the sack to a beautiful summer day. We’re in an ice capped mountain range, striped with raging waterfalls. Huge mushrooms cluster around colossal green trees, that - on closer inspection - appear to be giant beanstalks. A flock of two ton chickens waddle in the distance. Cyan is nowhere to be seen.

“This is Gianthome, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Presto shrugs. “Not my fault this time.”