Clinton frowned as he stepped out of the portal. There was a certain sense of disorientation then came with it as he stepped his foot on wet ground.

“Fucking hell!” he swore, raising his leg and looking down at the ground. “This shit stinks.”

He had ended up in what looked like a swampy region. But the water wasn’t so swampy. It was muddy and green, yes. But it was too shallow.

Clinton cast his gaze around and was welcome to the sight of trees, green and luscious. Whatever specifically this place was, it was bright and clear.

Swamps were usually murkier.

Four more people stepped out from behind him. They staggered slightly and he held his arms out to his sides to stop them from staggering further.

Nelson, the tank, a large enough man, staggered past his arm and splashed up more of the murky green water.

Clinton winced as splatters stained his pants.

He liked these pants. Now he found himself hoping the portal stains would wash off once he got back home.

Nelson looked at him with a face that looked as if he was expecting a fight, and Clinton did his best to remind himself of the fact that Nelson wasn’t expecting a fight, his face just always looked like he was.

“Sorry,” Nelson said in a deep voice.

Clinton waved the man’s apology aside. “No problem, big guy. They’re just pants.”

Behind him, Claire, Jude and Jed stood patiently. Jed was actually Jedidiah, but when he’d introduced himself, he’d made it a point to state that he be called Jed.

So he was Jed.

“Anybody else feel like we were being watched in the portal?” Claire asked.

She was a [Brewer of Life] and they were known for their high awareness of life. If she had a feeling something had been watching them, then something had definitely been watching them.

Clinton had heard enough rumors of Life affinity classes feeling eyes on them when entering portals to know it was also not in her head.

“It’s probably all in your head,” Jude said. “Everything about this mission is wrong and you’re probably just worried.”

Jude was right about the mission but not the sense of being watched.

He remembered how confused he had been to wake up in the middle of the night to a voice mail from The Blight. The Delver never asked for a favor, which already bumped up the priority of this exact meeting.

Clinton had called back almost immediately, more than ready to do the Delver a favor. After all, he owed the man more favors than he had fingers and toes to count with.

Then he’d gotten the gist.

A child in a Portal was a terrible thing. And any Delver unwilling to drop everything and help needed to look themselves in the mirror and ask themselves the important questions.

Clinton shook his head, dissuaded his own thoughts and focused on what was important.

“Alright, everyone,” he said loud enough to be heard. “On me.”

Nobody moved and Clinton almost smacked himself on the forehead.

They’re already on you.

“Claire, I need an update,” he said, pretending he’d not just asked people already with him to come to him. “I need to know how many lifeforms are with us. We haven’t gotten the quest yet doesn’t mean that there’s no quest.”

Claire’s blue eyes turned a soft pink and she stood motionless for a few seconds before they returned to being blue.

“None,” she answered easily.

“That’s strange,” Nelson said. “I hear movement.”

Jed nodded. “Me, too.”

“Maybe it’s the trees,” Jude pointed out.

Clinton was hoping Jude wasn’t going to end up being one of those brain stormers who liked to fancy themselves to be the devil’s advocate of the group. Whenever you offered an idea, they always felt it was their job to counteract it, prove it wrong somehow.

He hated working with guys like that.

“I say it’s—”

His interface flashed in front of him, disrupting his words and line of thought as they all received their quest.

[Welcome to The Ruins of Caldath]

…

[Portal Quest: Ruins of Caldath.]

You have walked upon the ruins of Caldath, ancient city of debauchery and hate. Its inhabitants have sold their soul to Caldath and have lost it eternally. Only their servants, too unimportant to be granted such misfortune, remain. Conclude the ruination of Caldath and free these innocent servants from their unfair damnation.

[Portal Objective: Find the orb of Caldath.]

Clinton read the quest twice with a frown.

I really hope its not an undead quest, he thought.

Undead quests were annoying because you rarely ever gained anything from them. They tended to have no minerals that could be mined and brought back. They also rarely ever had any allotted rewards gained upon conclusion of the quests.

For example, the quest only had an objective and no reward upon completion of the objective.

He waited for everyone to stop staring at the empty space in front of them before he resumed speaking, moving their conversation to strategies.

“Claire,” he said and the lady perked up. “How do your skills come up against undead?”

“You think we might be facing undead?” she asked with a touch of worry.

Clinton nodded. “I would say so. If we are dealing with soulless creatures, then I think it’s safe to assume that they will be undead.”

“But it said nothing about them dying,” Jude said.

Definitely a self proclaimed Devil’s advocate.

Clinton knew the kind and hated the kind.

“I never got an answer, Claire,” Clinton said, ignoring Jude.

Claire shook her head. “I can’t say. I’ve never been in an undead portal.”

Clinton nodded. That was good. It seemed The Blight had only contacted the reasonable Delvers. Maybe he would be working with a reasonable team today. All except Jude, though.

“Alright,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “We can’t devote our scouting eyes to Claire completely, so those of us with sharp senses, I’m talking of you, Nelson, will play scout support.”

“You can’t expect the tank to play support,” Jude said.

Clinton rounded on him. “And I can’t expect you to keep playing Mr. Opposite anytime I or anyone else says anything. It was agreed that I would lead this quest. So you can either obey or take your own path to completing it that has nothing to do with us. Got it?”

Jude was silent. The Delver met Clinton’s gaze for a few seconds before looking away.

“Got it,” he answered finally.

Clinton had no strength or time to be second guessed every time he had something to say. If a leader was being second guessed for every decision he made, at some point in time, he was going to start second guessing himself.

He couldn’t have that.

Not when a child’s life is at stake.

“Nelson, it seems like you have sharp ears,” he continued. “So keep them open and pay attention. Claire, spam that skill any chance you get. You feel odd in anyway—like we’re being watched—spam it. Keep your attention on your mana, though. The last thing we need is our healer falling into mana fatigue when we need them most.”

Claire nodded. Nelson did the same.

“Nelson, you’ll take point,” Clinton continued. “You’re the tank so we’ll need you to suck up as much damage as you can. You think you can do that?”

Nelson nodded.

Clinton nodded. “Good. Jude, you’ll watch our rear. If it moves, shoot it. If guns don’t work, then we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Shoot first?” Jude asked.

Clinton pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. The man sounded like he had a complaint to make on that. A disagreement.

Clinton didn’t want to hear it.

But he wasn’t going to simply dismiss the man. It wasn’t like this was his team that he worked with all the time. He couldn’t expect blind obedience from them. They would have questions to some of the instructions he gave.

“Yes, Jude,” he said. “Shoot first. That way we know if normal weapons work on them. If they do, then we know that it will be a while before we’ll have to start using up our mana. The first thing every Delver knows is to confirm if normal weapons work first. If they do, survivability goes up. Got it?”

Jude nodded.

“Good.” Clinton turned his attention to Jed. “You’ll stay behind Nelson. You’re our damage dealer so while he holds their attention, you’ll cut them down, got it?”

Jed nodded.

“I’ll keep my eyes on Claire in case any unaccounted variable pops up.” Clinton looked between each person, made sure they understood their roles. Satisfied with what he saw, he nodded. “Alright, let’s head out.”

[<>]

Clinton froze.

“What the hell?” Claire blurted out. “Tell me I’m not the only one seeing this.”

“I’m seeing it, too,” Nelson said. “Never heard of something like this happening before.”

Neither had Clinton.

When Delvers entered portals, they got their quests and that was it, nothing else. The world did not go the extra mile of telling you anything else.

Worse, you did not get the feeling that you were being warned.

Don’t do too much? What the hell does that even mean?

Clinton looked at each member of his team, while they seemed worried by the words in front of them, hovering three feet in front of the group, they weren’t scared.

That was a good thing. Quests were given by the interface, their bodies interpreting the mana of the portal and showing them what had to be done to resolve it.

But this piece of information, this warning, because reading it gave that specific sense, like they were being warned, wasn’t being given by their interface.

It stood in the air, staring at all of them.

Their interfaces had nothing to do with it.

What the hell did I agree to do, Blight?

Nelson turned suddenly, the action sharp and precise.

“We’ve got contact!” his voice bellowed through the distance

Then the explosive sound of a long machine gun going off filled the air. Nelson was firing away with what seemed like reckless abandon.

When Clinton turned in the direction their tank was firing, he frowned at the sight.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Infants were crawling out of the water, and mounting the surface of it, pulling themselves upwards. Covering their bodies were centipedes and bugs Clinton couldn’t identify.

Nelson’s bullets pinged off their heads, leaving cracks but nothing too powerful. As for the infants, if the gunshots affected them, they didn’t show it. Their eyes simply focused and their mouths opened.

“Combat!” Clinton called out, dreading their opened mouths. “Defend yourselves!”

A massive wave of mana burst out from Nelson, a tank’s skill. It was most likely designed to draw attention to himself. Unfortunately, he hadn’t let it off on time.

Before the infants’ attention turned on him, one of them blitzed through the air like a fired bullet.

Clinton turned in time to dodge the attack. Unfortunately, Jude was not as fast as him.

The infant’s mouth clamped down on his neck and its small stubby limbs clamped onto him.

Jude let out an ear piercing scream.

The Portal had already begun exterminating them.

…

Naymond was stupid.

Well, actually, stupid wasn’t the word he was looking for but it was a close enough synonym to it.

I really need to restart my sessions with Alna, he thought, eyes still fixed on Melmarc.

The boy was staring at nothing, most likely keeping up with whatever his interface was trying to show him.

Yet, he looked like the spitting image of his father. And Naymond didn’t mean it as a compliment.

A single look had made him almost piss his pants. Melmarc had been looking at him the way Madness tended to look at people when he knew the truth and was deciding on what to do with them the moment they lied.

The outcome if such a person lied was rarely ever good.

One look and you folded.

It was disgraceful. He’d witnessed what Melmarc could do to the [Damned] and had known when it came to a head on collision, even without his [Faker] abilities, he was most likely not a match for the boy.

Then the boy had put on his father’s face and Naymond had just started rambling, revealing everything he knew.

Even after deciding not to say much so you don’t get in trouble with Madness.

In his sessions with Alna over his fear of portals, she had speculated that it was possible he was also significantly terrified of Madness, enough for it to be traumatic.

Back then Naymond had refused to accept it out of nothing but stubbornness. He wasn’t completely stupid, though. He had suspected it back then, but only because he felt his fear of Madness had been healthy enough.

People who had witnessed what the Oath was capable of had a healthy enough fear for the man. Healthy enough to push past their other fears and do what they would not normally do.

But this… what had just happened was not the display of anything healthy. He’d been terrified. He’d played it cool with the joviality and the use of a lot of words but he’d been terrified out of his mind just looking at Melmarc.

That was not healthy at all.

Done with whatever he was checking, Melmarc turned back to him.

The boy was large, even squatting.

What is he? Naymond thought. Six three?

He had definitely grown since entering the portal.

Naymond was about to speak again when he took a single knee.

“I will not leave you to die,” Melmarc said out of nowhere.

It was a funny thing to say. In fact, the simple fact that he’d chosen to say it was beginning to give Naymond an odd feeling that Melmarc might have considered the possibility at some point.

No, Naymond disagreed with himself.

That was something Madness was capable of doing. Actually, that was something Madness would’ve done before he’d met his wife. The Madness Naymond knew now would not leave anyone behind unless he absolutely had to.

Also, Melmarc wasn’t that kind of person. Even his size wasn’t normally as intimidating because of how withdrawn he tended to be.

Once upon a time Alfa had commented on the fact that the boy didn’t even seem to have a presence. Apparently, she claimed it was possible to be in the same room with him and forget he was there if he wasn’t the one being addressed.

Personally, Naymond didn’t know the feeling. He was always aware of everything around him. Even something as insignificant as lint.

It turned out that Melmarc wasn’t done because he added: “We will find a way to deal with your injuries, then I will clear the Portal.”

Say that with a little more facial expression please, Naymond thought.

Still, it seemed like the boy hadn’t figured out that the way the portal worked, as long as they did not injure themselves any further, they could stay alive forever even with fatal injuries. To die here, whoever was killing you had to quite literally finish the job.

Maybe if I say nothing, he’ll stay with me so I don’t die.

It was an underhanded tactic to be using, especially as an adult, but…

Naymond would lie any lie as long as it ensured Melmarc’s safety right now. The last thing he needed was the boy going off on his own to complete his quest only to not come back.

That would be irresponsible of me, twice over.

Melmarc had almost died because of him. Twice. The last thing he wanted to do was allow the boy go and get himself killed because of some decision to be a hero.

“Mr. Hitchcock,” Melmarc said. “How can we deal with the injury. Are there any herbs you noticed around that can help?”

Naymond paled further at the way Melmarc stared at him. What was the likelihood that he already had the answer to the question? He’d been walking around for almost two weeks and was in a far better health state than Naymond.

It was possible he already knew something, even more possible that he knew more about the portal than Naymond.

What was it he said? Naymond thought.

It had been something about Caldath and not even the Orb.

What had he witnessed that had led him to believe that Caldath had any hand in the portal right now? From what Naymond knew, Caldath was merely a part of the story. This portal’s history.

It was like coming to earth a million years later and finding out that you could not do something because of the Christian's Ark of the covenant.

In such a situation you would speak of the Ark of the covenant and not the Christian God.

Right?

“Mr. Hitchcock?”

“My injuries are actually fine,” Naymond blurted out. “Injuries don’t heal in this portal but they don’t worsen. If nothing happens to me I can stay here, like this, until help arrives.”

So much for lying to keep him safe, Naymond groaned.

If we make it out of here alive, the first thing I’m doing is booking a session with Alna.

He could handle being terrified of Madness but being terrified of a sixteen-year-old simply because he was a spitting image of his father was just unfair. Both to him and Melmarc.

Why can’t he look like his mom?

At least War was less terrifying to look at. She only went full Oath when she was taking a fight seriously or was extremely angry.

“Is there anything else we know about the portal?” Melmarc asked.

Naymond gave it a quick thought. “I don’t know how you’ve done it so far but these things attached to me don’t come off unless you kill all the monsters that are around them.”

“My skill works on them, too,” Melmarc said absently, as if it wasn’t very important.

He stopped looking at Naymond to stare out the window behind Naymond. He wasn’t looking at anything from what Naymond could deduce, merely staring.

Naymond doubted he was looking at his interface.

“Something always bugged me about how the night and day works here,” Melmarc said. “I always see the sunset into the dark time of the day…” Melmarc shook his head as if he’d just caught himself talking nonsense. “I always see the night, but not morning. I blink and its day time.”

The night part of the day, Naymond noted. The boy’s beginning to talk like his father.

“Funny enough, I figured that one out,” Naymond replied.

That caught a lot of Melmarc’s attention because Melmarc looked back at him. “You did?”

Must’ve really been bugging him.

“I did,” he nodded. “So I think this world is controlled by the Orb of Caldath, and seeing as it may or may not be intelligent and living, it has probably tied the cycle of the day to the monsters here. I’ve noticed that sunrise—in my experience—happens when one of them wakes up.”

“An orb can be intelligent and living?” Melmarc asked, confused.

At least, Naymond liked to think it was confusion since the boy was quite lacking in any facial expressions right now.

“Depends,” Naymond said. “Some SS-rank items tend to possess some level of consciousness and intelligence. We’re still trying to figure out why.”

Melmarc paused in sudden thought and Naymond waited. The silence lasted for as long as it took for a coin to hit the ground from a coin toss when Melmarc’s brows furrowed.

“What if that was just a coincidence?” he said, his face generating his first expression which was just a softening of its placidity. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about it, but what if it’s tied to Caldath.”

Again with the Caldath. Now, Naymond was certain there was something about the portal that he had no clue about.

Normally, he would’ve dismissed it entirely based on his experience as a Delver. But his experience as a Delver was also the reason he could not dismiss it.

He had seen the portal creature. It had not spoken but the simple fact that it had presented itself in full view of him was already saying more than enough.

From what he knew, they only made themselves present to full view instead of standing in some corner on two occasions. The first was when an Oath was involved in the delving, and the second was when the portal ended up being worse than what was common for its rank.

For a while he’d thought the portal difficulty was unnecessarily high when he’d been having his ass handed to him by the creatures but had discarded that based on the simple fact that he was not a combat class.

Then he’d seen Melmarc fight them and that had solidified his agreement that the monsters were not unnaturally strong for their class.

Then he’d considered that maybe the difficulty would lie further down, towards the towering castle that stood almost as high as the sun.

But what if Caldath is what makes it difficult.

“What do you know about Caldath?” he asked Melmarc.

The more they knew about the portal, the better they could help anyone who ended up venturing into it.

“That he’s a demi-god,” Melmarc said.

Naymond paused. “Not a god?”

Melmarc shook his head. “Not a god. The quest I got says he’s a demi-god. I don’t think Veebee would send me after an actual god. Et snit gohe g the pf ytl eodht.”

Naymond’s jaw dropped.

This was a new problem.

“Say that again,” he said.

“F tjbbgpog hgt dgutos gtk,” Melmarc said. “Personally, unless it’s a god like Zeus, I can’t see how I can possibly fight it. I don’t even think anyone can take Zeus in a fight if he’s real.”

Naymond would’ve run a frustrated hand through his hair if he could, but he couldn’t. This was another problem. A significant one that had to be kept away from the government for the child’s sake.

Slowly, fearfully, Naymond asked, “Who’s Veebee, Mr. Lockwood?”

“Veebee’s aohuta ghth aoosht hyt fht lsoth eohgt ela’.”

What was going on could only mean one thing.

He met the portal being. This is just not my month. Maybe I should change jobs once we get out of here.

Naymond knew he wasn’t going to change jobs. There was very little chance that the Romanian council could be stopped if he decided to abandon the entire duty of disrupting their plans.

Still, it was a very strong thought.

He would’ve loved to ask what happened between Melmarc and the portal creature—Veebee.

I can’t believe he named it.

Unfortunately, any conversation made about the creature tended to get lost in translation. Very heavily. But there were some things that could be addressed. Things that did not reveal what the creature was or its actual existence.

Wait, Naymond thought with a frown. If he already has a name for it then did he name it or did it give him its name?

That was a rollercoaster of a question.

If Melmarc had named the creature, then that would mean that they’d had a conversation long enough for names to be necessary. Those creatures didn’t have long conversations. And the few conversations Naymond had ever witnessed them having were short and filled with the aura of condescension. And that was towards Oaths.

There was also that one SS-rank.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was that Melmarc had a name for the creature and that was only possible on two occasions. The first was if the creature had given him its name, which implied that it respected him enough to give its name or was fond of him enough.

You did not give your name to someone you didn’t acknowledge in the slightest, which was normal behavior for those creatures.

The second was if Melmarc had had a conversation with the thing. An honest to God conversation and not an exchange of one or two sentences.

If the second was the case, then Naymond could only deduce that the conversation had been nice enough, because the name Veebee sounded nice, like a nickname. You did not give a nice nickname to someone who had given you a terrible impression.

But why?

From what Naymond knew, only Sages who’d reached a certain threshold in their intelligence stats could see and hear the thing. He’d only started seeing them when his stats had gotten to 16 points.

The only other way to see them was if they chose to talk to a member of the party, which tended to be Oaths and that one SS-rank guy.

So what made Melmarc special? Was he just unlucky?

Naymond thought of how many Gifted children had entered portals. Worldwide, the numbers were in the fifties. In America, maybe eight.

All of them had been dumb kids dong dumb things.

Make that nine, with the new reason of irresponsible adults.

Still, he doubted any of them had seen anything. There was still always the possibility that whatever outcome had become of their entry and successful exit had led them to silence.

Maybe the creatures only talk to kids?

It was a possibility. There was also the possibility that it only happened because Melmarc was the son of not just one Oath but two.

The thoughts were becoming numerous on the single subject, yet Naymond could not ignore it. For him it was as intriguing a topic as the existence of an actual god.

But why was Melmarc expected to fight a demi-god? And how was he going to—

“Did you hear that?” Naymond asked suddenly, straining his ears.

“Hear what?” Melmarc asked.

Naymond waited again, closed his eyes to blot out the distraction of sight so he could focus on his sense of sound.

It came again.

“That,” he said. “It’s like a continuous popping sound.”

Melmarc closed his eyes for only a moment before opening them.

“A new kind of monster?” he asked, a touch of worry slipping into his face.

He was becoming less like his father and more like himself. It was slow but Naymond was glad for it.

Naymond shook his head in response.

“No,” he said. “I know that sound. Gunshots.”

“And gunshots mean people,” Melmarc said.

“Delvers.”

If they were shooting, then it meant they had run into trouble. All Naymond and Melmarc had to do was wait them out and they would be fine.

I really hope they have a healer.

“Alright, Mr. Lo—”

Naymond’s words died on his lips as Melmarc darted past him and vaulted through the window behind him.

I just cannot get a break, Naymond groaned. What’s a guy got to do to fix his mistakes?

…

Clinton stood next to a tree, firing at the enemy. With his strength stats there was nothing in the way of recoil as far as he was concerned. He just had to be steady, so that the weapon didn’t buck from its own recoil.

The sound of gunshots filled the air and things were already going south.

Claire was down, bleeding from a hole in her neck, and some of the critters that had once been on the infants that were currently cornering them were crawling around in her neck.

She wasn’t dead, but she was unable to use her skills. It was a terrible thing when your healer couldn’t heal.

She was currently in Nelson’s protection, hiding behind another tree while he covered their six, shooting in the opposite direction from Clinton.

They’d been here for half an hour now, having already alternated between guns and their skills. Now they were back to using guns.

Skills were more effective than guns but guns also worked. They just took a long time to put down a single enemy.

Clinton didn’t like it, but with their healer technically down, they needed a way out. They needed safety.

They’d been falling back since the fight started, making a straight line for the exit. They were close now and Clinton could feel it.

All you have to do is make sure not allow your fear of losing your healer lead you to stupid mistakes.

“Jude!” he bellowed as he darted further back, turning to put three bullets in an infant’s head as it dived through the air. “I need a gravity ball this side, ASAP!”

His bullets didn’t kill the infants, but they knocked it astray so that it skewed off target and landed in the water.

A deep blue ball shot past him to Clinton a moment after and hit the ground. It exploded into a massive dome, catching a decent number of infants in its reach. Then it compressed, pinning all of them to the swampy surface.

“Grenade out!” Jed bellowed.

A second later, a grenade dropped at the base of the small pile of infants without its pin. The explosion that followed sent them scattering.

Clinton wasn’t sure how many of the creatures died in the explosion.

“Clinton! To your left!”

Clinton turned at Nelson’s warning to the sight of more of the creatures crawling out of the water to their side.

They were flanking them, even though Clinton didn’t believe it was intentional.

Shit! He swore, throwing the strap of his machine gun over his shoulder.

If he was going to take care of this, he would need to use his skills. All of them were off cool-down but it didn’t mean his mana levels were getting any better. His mana was growing very slowly. He could feel it.

He pointed his hands forward only to pause in confusion.

“What are you doing?!” Nelson bellowed.

Clinton couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth.

He stopped and his hand went for his vest.

“What’s that?” Jed asked.

Clinton found him pointing at the new group of creatures in time to see a deep white ring as wide as his head flew into one of the creatures out of nowhere. It struck through, running it through the torso, then pinned it to the swamp ground.

Something about the way it pulsed didn’t sit right with Clinton.

“BRACE FOR IMPACT!!!” he bellowed as he turned to hide behind the tree he stood at.

There was a quiet explosion. In fact, there was no sound to the explosion at all, but Clinton doubted that there was anyone present that didn’t know there had been an explosion. It was just in the way the mana around them trembled.

Clinton turned his attention to the point of the explosion when it was done and found all the creatures lying harmlessly on the ground. Around them, the other creatures had stopped as if in anticipation of something.

Then Clinton realized what he was feeling like and he tapped at his vest.

Did I lose something?