The Grand Vizier stepped through the portal, smiling to himself. He had heard rumors that his cousin’s friend’s mother’s father happened to stumble upon a strange new dimension. It always surprised him how fast news traveled around the Rift. For being an infinite space of random world-junk, bonds were quite hard to break. The perks of immortality, he supposed.

But, nonetheless, The Grand Vizier stood atop a tall mountain on a barren world. He looked around, and saw nothing but warm rock. There was no atmosphere, but his survival amulet made such things unimportant. What he did see, though, was the vast, infinite universe around him. It was beautiful, and even his nearly omnipotent sight could not see even halfway to the next solar system.

The world, no, universe, was wide open, ready to be explored and ready to act as the perfect board for a wonderful game. He pulled Board of Dahir from his bag, shifting his kurta to fluff out any wrinkles, as he set it down. After a moment, he closed his bag, sitting before his game board. He then sent a surge of magic power through it-- most called it different things, like mana or ether or aether or essence or whatever else, but he just called it magic power-- and watched as thirty two pieces appeared, all translucent. They were not in the traditional position for a chess game, instead being scattered around the board. He then watched as pieces moved, erratically and against the standard rules of the game.

He did not frown, as he would if the players knew they were on his board. Actually, he would not frown, even then. If he expected anyone on his board to act their roles, with no one defying expectations, then he would be playing a boring, predictable, and uninspiring game. After a few more minutes of erratic movements, the chess board stopped moving, with a baker’s dozen pieces left. The kings and queens remained, obviously, as well as three bishops, a pair of knights, a rook, an extra pair of kings that glowed gold and blue, and, somehow, a single, solitary pawn.

That surprised The Grand Vizier. He plucked the pawn from the board, and examined it. It corresponded to a pair of people, a pair of ‘Inquisitors’ who had the potential to become as strong as a queen.

The Grand Vizier’s board, the Board of Dahir, was meant to be used in worlds that were limited in scope to find those with the brilliance, power, influence, or other exceptional quality to alter the paradigm of society. There were a few issues with the board, though. It could only compute thirty two groups or institutions at once-- excluding those groups who intruded upon the world, who received their own piece sets to represent them-- which meant that busy worlds with quadrillions of inhabitants were almost always left underrepresented on his board.

The advantages, though, were massive. It was a one of a kind artifact, one that could collect information on a massive scale within minutes. It could do the work that an operative would take weeks to learn.

Each piece had a different purpose, and one closely correlated to their game-based rules. The kings represented groups that ruled the world. Obviously. The Queens represented the confidants to the kings, the ones that did the dirty work or were the king’s other half. Those two usually represented single people, but the ones he held in his hand-- after placing the pawn down-- represented organizations. On one side, there was the League of United Species, with a pair of queens on its side. One was the Inquisition, while the other was some sort of club for adventurous souls. He did not pay much attention to the latter queen, shifting his focus to the final king. It was… erratic. He had never seen such an unstable piece come from his board before, and he had run into a single body with the souls of an entire world crammed into it, so he knew what erratic was like. The information gleaned from it was difficult to understand as well, so The Grand Vizier placed the piece back onto the board, then perused the other pieces. The first ones to look at were the extra kings.

They were quite easy to decipher, one being the Ark of the Gunsmiths and the other being the Greater Gods. He had run into both groups before, and he had a good relationship with both. It was more antagonistic than most, but in a begrudgingly respectful way. So, they would be fun players, but he had to shift his focus onto the other pieces. He looked at the bishops, which, along with all but four pieces, were on the League’s side. Bishops were meant to represent moral pillars in a society, but they could also represent those who helped society through any other means. The first bishop represented a group called the TRC. They were all bureaucratic and boring, so he moved onto the next bishop, which was a group of humans holding fanatical hatred of the opposing king. The last bishop was, unlike the other pieces, all from a single person. It was representative of a single man, a forgemaster, who made arms for Queen Inquisition. His love for his creations was inspiring, and The Grand Vizier could sense that he would bring about a paradigm shift very soon.

He turned away, looking at the pair of knights. Knights were concerned with the practicalities of the world, and a knight was often a master warrior. Despite his assumption, though, the knights were both, in fact, criminal masterminds. One had abandoned her life-long goal of tunneling into different dimensions to discover the cause of the awakening, while the other was a mastermind obsessed with creating a person capable of doing everything in existence. The Grand Vizier could only guess that their status as knights came from their incredible willpower, which they did have in spades.

The rook, the piece most associated with protection, actually concerned a small group once more. It concerned a group of cyborgs who made a pact with each other, to help the others in their times of need and to help the others when they needed help. It was quite nice, and The Grand Vizier smiled as he looked into it a bit more. They were a nice, morally uncomplicated group with a single goal that was far from evil.

Then, he came to the pawns. He already examined them before, but he looked at them again, looking at the pair’s qualities, morals, and goals. Honestly, they were not on the same page. Mostly. He did not delve into the pair’s lives any more than he needed to, but he could tell that they were in the perfect position to alter the fabric of society.

With a smile, The Grand Vizier sent another shot of magic power through the Board of Dahir, returning it to its dormant state. He then pulled out thirty two chess pieces, placing them on the board before pulling out a single, metal card.

After sending a burst of magic power through the card, it evaporated into smoke and drifted across from him. The smoke coalesced and gathered into a person. The cloud swirled, then fully morphed into the person. She was a woman, with ashen skin and long, dagger-like ears. Her eyes were golden and her hair gray, with an expression that was perpetually both annoyed and eager. She wore a set of rich purple robes on her body, a pair of leather boots on her feet. She smiled as she appeared, and stretched, ignoring the lack of atmosphere like The Grand Vizier, “About time you let me out of there!” she yawned, stretching, “So, where’re we now, G-Vizzy?” she asked.

The Grand Vizier rolled his eyes at the nickname, gesturing to the board, to which she eagerly played the first move, “Remember the strange infinite universe some of us were discussing?”

“Oh, yeah. So we’re there, then?”

“Essentially, yes,” The Grand Vizier replied, moving his pawn out of the way of his bishop. His opponent smiled and moved another pawn up, as if opening her queen up to being taken by his bishop, “That gambit has never worked on me, November. I don’t know why you keep trying to bait my bishop like that.”

He moved his bishop to put pressure on his knight and force it to remain behind the line of pawns, November snorting all the same, “You don’t need to tell me that,” November replied, “I just find it funny,” she answered. She moved her pawn to cover for the knight, “For now, though, what’s the plan, Vizzy? I’m guessing you want to challenge some smart gamemaster again, no?”

“That was the plan,” The Grand Vizier replied, moving another piece without paying much attention, “But I don’t want to do the same thing over and over again. It’s insanity to attempt such a thing.” November did not reply, instead continuing to play their game of chess. The Grand Vizier lost himself in his thoughts, but November’s growl snapped him out of his thinking.

“That’s so stupid…” she mumbled. He looked at the board, noticing how he had already won a checkmate in the few minutes they began playing, “You know what?” she asked, “I think I have an idea. Why don’t you let some of us out to play? We can pull in some smarter folk to play, then send the best off to you. Not a bad idea, no?”

The Grand Vizier narrowed his eyes, “But then you would try to escape,” he said.

“Yeah, obviously. I’m sick of being stuck in that damn card all the time. Besides, I never wanted to play these games, it was the only thing I could do to make it out of the slums back home,” she replied, lying down on the cold, rocky ground, “What do you expect, man?”

The Grand Vizier frowned, “I thought I made the cards the epitome of luxury… Perhaps I need to-”

“Let us leave the cards when we want,” November cut in, “Most of us don’t actually mind sticking with you, but we’re just sick of being stuck in those cards. Even if you made them into entire worlds for us to mold to our desires, we would still be prisoners. Open the door for us, and we wouldn’t mind staying. Free food, shelter, and a good time with someone as… interesting as you is quite the offer, especially with the roster of folk you’ve got on your let’s charitably call it payroll.”

The Grand Vizier looked up at November for a while, narrowing his eyes even further, “I can’t, and I won’t. You are all staying with me. I did so very much for you. I connected the cards, built palaces for you all, and you still want to leave?” He scoffed, holding up a hand, “Don’t make me laugh. Return.” With his words said, November’s body dispersed into magic power, whirling around his hand before turning into a card.

In his mind, he could hear November say one last thing to him, [If you keep trying to play your games alone, you’re going to run into someone who can outwit you. I may find you interesting to be around, and a fun guy, but at this point… you’re hopeless. When that day comes, I’m not helping you.]

The Grand Vizier snorted, “You’ve said that the last three times we’ve spoken,” he muttered, fully aware that she could not hear him. He shook his head and prepared the games he would play with the people of this new dimension. He had a lot to work with, from stars to planets to nebulas. He could make a great many things, but he began small. Perhaps a single planet of a few hundred thousand would suffice for his first game.

Bloodsports were off the table for the moment, as it was uninteresting unless many magical abilities were involved. Instead, he decided to begin with a game of wits. After planning out the rough outline, he snapped his fingers, and, after a moment, disappeared from the barren world.

*=====*

Freya, though she was not the goddess, was considered by many to be equivalent or even greater than the mythical figure. She could make a world flourish with a single flick of the wrist, she could inspire the love and devotion of any and all she met with a single sentence, she could do battle with the mightiest monsters, and she could bring death on an untold scale.

Freya, the ‘goddess’ of war and death, leader of Freya’s Armada, was sitting in her office, a beautiful place with dark wooden walls and golden decor all over, leaning on her desk with her head buried in her arms, “Do we really need to…” she whined, “I mean, can’t we just do a little bit of raiding? Hel, I wouldn’t mind if we just did a recruitment drive!”

“Ma’am,” the man, tall with dirty blonde hair and red eyes while wearing a set of gilded leather armor, standing on the other side of the dark oak desk said, looked at the various carvings filled in with gold, “First of all, we do not want to attract the attention of the Greater Gods. Their power is more than enough to contend with the full might of your fleet ma’am. Not to say that I am suggesting your weakness…”

Freya sighed, sitting up and looking at the man, then at the mirror on her desk. She was about as tall as the man, who was himself quite tall for their people, and had rich blonde hair with piercing blue eyes. Her lips were red in a way that suggested lipstick, despite Freya’s disinclination to touch such superficial things as makeup.

Fancy offices showed power, while makeup showed the wearer’s lacking confidence in their appearance. Or so Freya thought, “You don’t have to spare my feelings, Helms. I know that they’re strong. But they won’t mind it if we just took a little bit of it, right?”

Helms gave her an unimpressed look, “That might have been true if you had a single shred of restraint,” he replied, Freya wincing at the entirely-correct statement, “Nevertheless, there is another reason we cannot pillage to our heart’s content.” He paused for a moment, pulling a clipboard from thin air and looking at it, “While traversing the Roots, we have found a strong foe looming. If we were to raid, we would reduce the local’s ability to resist this enemy.”

“Enough with the vague warnings, Helms, if there’s such a strong enemy so close, then why aren’t we fighting them?” she asked, holding up a hand, “I know, you don’t have to say it. But is it possible to sending an auxiliary fleet after this ‘looming threat?’” she asked, mockingly grinning at him.

Helms did not seem to mind, instead shaking his head, “We cannot, Ma’am.”

“And why the Hel not?” she replied, leaning forwards.

“Because we cannot find them,” he replied, much to Freya’s surprise, “We can sense their utter hostility to, quite literally, everything in existence, but we cannot locate them. All we know is that they will arrive eventually.”

“Obfuscation, then?” Freya asked, “But they cannot use mana…” she muttered, “Perhaps this should be our next target of study,” she muttered, smiling, “The ability to mask an entire force with nothing but technology! Can you imagine it, Helms?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I understand the significance of such a thing. I must remind you, though, that there are psychics in this dimension, so that might be the cause,” Helms said in response. Freya waved his statement away and sat, imagining the possibilities, “At any rate, Ma’am, we need to begin preparations for our task.”

Freya growled, slamming a fist onto her desk and releasing a mighty boom, “That bastard! If I didn’t owe him I wouldn’t do any of this for him! I bet he’s listening in on us! Aren’t you!?” she shouted to the ceiling, none but Helms and she showing any visible reaction to her outburst, “Bastard,” she hissed, “Whatever, so all we need to do is send three people through the Roots.”

“He is a dramatic one, no?” Helms asked, chuckling a bit. Freya frowned. Out of her millions of ships and billions of comrades, Helms was the only one who could stand ‘the Bastard’ without shying away. Freya could as well, but she could not stand the entity for another reason entirely.

“He’s a smug son of a bitch,” Freya growled, eyeing Helms, “You aren’t going to betray me, right?” she asked with a dangerous inflection to her voice before scoffing, “Look at that, I’m playing right into his hands again, suspecting my second in command.”

Helms smiled, used to Freya’s eccentricities, “This is why I call him dramatic,” he said. Freya rolled her eyes, looking off to the side and picking up her favorite dagger, twirling it in her hand, “Is that the best idea, Ma’am? You could cut the desk and ruin it.”

“I could, but that won’t stick,” she replied, slashing her desk deliberately. Almost immediately, the desk mended the slash, returning to its perfect shine in due time, “See?” she asked, giving Helms a grin. He just gave her an unimpressed look again, “Whatever,” she said, still twirling the knife, “Anyway, now that the Bastard made us go harring off on this damn sidequest, tell me the Core Warriors, at least, are using the time to sharpen their skills.

Helms smiled a faint smile, “Not only the Core, Ma’am, but the Auxiliaries as well. As far as my records are saying…” he said, looking at his clipboard again, “We’re seeing whole percent increases in combat capability.”

Freya hummed, “Whole percentages?” she repeated, “At this point? Hmm… I feel like the Bastard’s got his grubby pen in this,” she growled, looking at Helms, “Does he? You know how he influences things better than even I do, so give me your thoughts.”

Helms shrugged, “I would say ‘maybe.’ The numbers suggest something big changing, but we just came back from our collective sabbatical, so it could be that. I would not put it past the pensman though. It’s nearly expected. At this point.”

“That damn scribe’s going to be the death of me, I tell you,” Freya groaned, hitting her head on the desk, “You know what? I’ll deal with him when he comes up again. For now, we plan on who we are putting into the Roots. Did you make a list?” Helms nodded, placing a piece of paper onto Freya’s desk. She skimmed through it quickly, narrowing her eyes after a while, “This is quite vague on details. Though… I can’t deny that distance might prove the most difficult issue in this new case. In fact, how are the shipwrights planning on circumventing the ‘speed of light’ and ‘massive distance’ issues? If I remember correctly, they were making plans to use the Roots to traverse the distance?”

“That’s right, Ma’am. I can’t refute anything, there. Is there anything else you needed from me?” he asked, “I was planning on meeting Flint a few minutes ago and I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Freya sighed, shooing him away, “Fine, go have fun doing boring romance stuff with your date,” she said. Helms gave a smile in return, leaving quickly. Freya sat in silence for a few minutes after the door closed, eventually looking up at the ceiling, “What do you think of all this, Odin?” she asked.

Immediately, a raven appeared in a cloud of mana mist, missing an eye while the other one glowed bright, “I cannot make a judgment without a clear sense of what I’m judging, child. And I told you to stop with the silly, stolen names when we are in private. Your claims of divinity don’t work on me.”

“Sorry, Old Man, force of habit. Besides, it’s not like the act fools anyone. It’s like a game, and everyone plays along because it’s fun, and…”

“They would rather pretend to be the host of the goddess of war than acknowledge the fact that they are all raiders and bandits banding together to seek new places to raid and new things to fight,” Odin, or the Old Man, finished, “I have told you many times, Child. You must force them all to understand what they are. Because, if you don’t, you will never become strong enough to kill that being.” He laughed in loud squawks, “Not before the Greater Gods get around to it, anyway!”

Freya slammed a fist onto her desk, “Dammit, Old Man, how am I supposed to do that!? Come out there and tell them that we’re just doing this all for shits and giggles!? Disband the fleet!?”

The Old Man stopped laughing after a moment, then rested a wing onto Freya’s curled fist, “That is your problem, Child. You cannot see the finer details in life. Though I cannot see the future, I know that this will be your fleet’s final destination if things do not change,” he warned, “Do not worry, though. Even without both eyes, I can see the incredible talent you will soon meet. Once in a pentillion geniuses come quite frequently when you’re dealing with septillions, no?” he chuckled, “Though, there aren’t more than a few hundred quadrillion to meet.”

Freya leveled a look at the Old Man, “So, you’re saying that I should spend my time learning? How? I have a fleet to run, Auxiliaries to train, Core Warriors to harden!”

The Old Man met her look with one of his own, “Did you not call for your Fleet, the majority of your forces, to disperse for sabbatical? Why can you not do something similar here? The place to come has not been tainted by unending war and rampant greed. This world has managed to make something that does not need widespread violence to work. You do not give your troops enough credit, Freya. They are not stupid. Brash, uncomplicated, and impulsive, yes, but not stupid. How many times have they seen a world without war? How many times have their lives been determined by violence? How many times have you shied away from the peaceful, united worlds to instead prey on war torn, ravaged ones?

“It is not your fault, though. I commend your resistance to the temptation of endless plunder, and instead target worlds with those whose lives were changed by war. You gave those who joined from those worlds a higher purpose, but you also only found those who sought violence to justify their misspent lives. I will not say any more than this. I have given you everything you need to make the complete picture. I suggest you look long and hard at your past, at what you have done, and what you plan on doing. Decide what you want to do, and ensure that you stick to your course. That is the only way for you to return without losing everything.” When his piece was said, the Old Man disappeared, nothing but a single, black feather remaining. Freya pursed her lips, and picked up the feather, adding it to a small inkwell she kept to place the Old Man’s feathers in, just in case she needed them.

She then pondered on what the Old Man said. Could she really trust her subordinates to follow her orders? It was entirely possible, in an ideal world, for her to fulfill the bastard’s favor while also listening to the Old Man’s advice. She was not, however, living in an ideal world. She did not know how her warriors would react to the news. Her Core Warriors could handle it well, and the majority of the Auxiliaries had been around for long enough for her to be able to trust them, but there were enough bad apples for her to be worried.

She went back and forth on the issue, before finally coming to a decision. She plucked one of the Old Man’s feathers from the inkwell and pulled out a piece of paper. She then began to pen the order. She spent a long time on it, agonizing over every word, before she finally completed it. The initial draft was done, and she could consult with her lieutenants. The days that they had until the new world, that had seemed so far away before, suddenly felt far too short of a time.

*=====*

Balthazar Bloodbringer was in a bad mood. First of all, he had to morph his resplendent natural form into that of a hairless monkey with above average intellect-- though none of them put much effort into their appearances, beyond making themselves appear like normal monkey-mortals. Second of all, he had to wear more than the absolutely nothing he normally wore. And, third of all, he had to listen to his coven argue in front of the Obelisk for twenty minutes about how they were going to move into the place they planned to call home, “I am telling you,” Xilandria Bloodbringer, his sister, argued, “This is the greatest opportunity we could have ever asked for!! This is a place free of the boundaries! There is ample space just waiting to be claimed! If any of us were so inclined, we could make armies of lesser kin to dominate the galaxy!”

Ulenich Snakeslayer, the de facto spymaster of the group, frowned, “That would only attract the very people we are trying to avoid. Besides, you received your tips from the Greater Gods. That means that they are here as well. We don’t want to step onto their toes, and they are likely fixated onto this galaxy as much as we are. So, since we are absolutely set on doing this, we need to be careful.”

“I agree with Ulenich,” Nalge Bloodbringer, Balthazar’s brother, added, “If nothing else, we need to be careful. I abstained from voting, but my advocacy for caution has not changed, no matter what our course of action is.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement from the crowd of thirty Coven Kin, but Xilandria was unphased, “Stop being cowards and think about the benefits! We could obtain so much power, we may be able to battle the Greater Gods and negotiate on equal footing!” There were a few other mumbles of assent to that particular plan, though Balthazar personally thought that fighting nigh immortal gods older than their own Elder was a poor decision.

That very Elder, Lamensk Snakeslayer, Ulenich’s mother, sighed, “As much as we would like to stand on equal footing with those pesky gods, it would be impossible to amass that much power without being discovered and eradicated, Young Xilandria. Does anyone else have a statement to make?”

“I do!” a young voice said from the back of the crowd. Everyone turned and made way for the little girl, appearing no older than twelve, “I do, Elder Lamensk! I was looking at the level of technology there, and I don’t think we can use our normal tactics to announce our arrival, especially with the Greater Gods running around!”

The Elder gave a motherly smile to the girl, bending down to pet her head, “Is that so, Young Mentska? What do you suggest we do, then?”

Mentska Wiremind, first of her line and the only technology specialist in their Coven, went rigid for a moment, “Oh, I know this one…” she stuttered, pulling out an electronic tablet, “Ah, here we go!” she said cheerfully, turning the device around and showing them all, “It’s easy! First, I disable every surveillance device in the area we’re planning on consuming. Then, everyone goes with the ‘take what they can give’ greeting--”

“Do we really have to?” Xilandria moaned, “It’s not like they’re that important, no? Besides, there’s trillions, maybe quadrillions of them! A few thousand won’t make much of a dent,” she added.

The reaction was evenly split between frowns and nods, but Mentska shook her little head violently, “No! Bad Xil!” she said, running up to the older Kin and slapping her over the head. “They aren’t bad, and they are very reasonable! If we can be friends, then we get more in the end. Didn’t you go to one of those business courses when you went to school?”

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Xilandria growled, slapping the child’s hand away as she tried to bat her head again, “I did, but that was to fit into the local culture to locate our prey. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Not telling you,” Mentska replied, sticking her tongue out at Xilandria. The older woman growled, but eventually gave it up, huffing. Mentska, seemingly satisfied with the response, turned back to the rest of them “Okay, so, after everyone gets their fill-- WITHOUT killing anyone and without tipping our hands too much-- we go off and find a place to start the next home! And, because I gained access to their systems, we’ll have perfect knowledge of what their reactions are! So, what do you all say?” she asked, looking around expectantly.

“I’m in favor,” Balthazar said, garnering quite the shocked reactions from all present, “What?” he asked.

The Elder chuckled at his confusion, “Young Balthazar, you never make your opinion known, so it is quite surprising to hear you so in favor of Young Mentska’s plan,” she explained, “Now, does anyone else agree?”

Almost everyone else raised their hands, including Xilandria herself, though obviously begrudgingly, and the warhawks backing her. The only one who did not agree was Ulenich Snakeslayer, who shook his head, “I still maintain that we should avoid this dimension as much as possible. We do not know what they are capable of, and I am sure that none of us would prefer looking down the barrel of a planet cracker.”

“Young Ulenich, we must reach a consensus for there to be action. Can you not reconsider?” the Elder asked.

Ulenich pursed his monkey lips, then sighed, “I suppose I can agree, but the Coven’s rules apply. If we are in imminent danger, I will not hesitate to abandon the alliance,” he added, giving them all a level stare.

“As you should,” the Elder snapped, giving them all a frown, “Remember, the Coven was designed to ensure the survival of our Kin and Kind. If our alliance becomes a liability, then we must split. If our alliance becomes a necessity, then we must unite. ‘Twas the rules for hundreds of years. Now, if there are no other objections, we can begin.” Every other member of the Coven nodded, stepping back from the red Obelisk. The Elder held her arms open wide, then clapped with the force of an earthquake.

So powerful was her movement that reality itself began to tear, opening wider and wider until there was enough space for five of them to fit through if they stood shoulder to shoulder. At the same time, Mentska was tapping her tablet with vigor, eventually nodding to herself, “Alright, everything’s down! Let’s go!” she shouted, putting her tablet away and running through the tear. That was the sign they had all been waiting for, and they rushed through the tear.

On the other side, Balthazar found himself in a busy, crowded street. That street was filled with the screams of people as his Coven Kin descended upon them. Teeth sunk into flesh and the nectar that was their lifeblood was plundered. Seeing the fleeing, defenseless cityfolk, Balthazar gave chase, catching an old, monkey-like creature-- not human, though, since the one he caught had green fur-- and sinking his teeth into the man’s neck. He took a few drinks, but stopped there; the man was so frail that any more than that was liable to kill him.

He placed the man down onto the ground and chased after his next target, which was anyone in that crowd. Unfortunately for him, he was just about to catch one of them when a beam of searing light crashed against his monkey skin, accompanied by a loud whine. He growled and jumped back, looking to where the attack came from. Standing there was a woman, wearing heavy armor without a speck of attuned mana in it, holding a gun with much the same conditions.

Balthazar was in shock at the attack; the woman had managed to hurt him without using a single bit of magic. That was unbelievable. So, to prevent any more damage, he charged the woman. She shot again, and managed to hit his shoulder, melting the fine arachnid silk of his tunic that his Coven managed to acquire. He continued regardless, and, before she could get a third shot in, seized her arms, pinning them to her sides and biting down into her neck. Or he tried to. The metal she wore had greater resistance than he was expecting, and he had to infuse his teeth with ‘Strength’ mana to pierce it.

Despite the work he put into it, though, he did not even manage to taste a single drop of the woman’s lifeblood before something very strong and very hot slammed into his head, sending him carrening off to the side. He crashed through a building, landing in a pile of metal. He growled. He hated fighting in the body of an evolved monkey. He erupted from the rubble and glared at the creature who dared attack him.

It was… a strange thing. It had an eye for a head, while also having teeth. It also had four arms and a curtain of tendrils for feet, if its body structure was not strange enough already. The pair were speaking to each other, but Balthazar did not know what they were saying. His Coven never invested into those ‘Soul Language’ spells or trinkets, as they had little use for it. They could negotiate with the mortals, or they could take what they wanted and ignore the mortals’ pleading. Granted, Mentska had been urging them to get something like it for a while, but she was always outvoted.

Nevertheless, Balthazar glared at the pair, who seemingly finished their talk while he was gathering his thoughts. The one with the gun stood behind the strange creature, while the eye-headed one took a pose. Its fists ignited with fire, and Balthazar understood why he was still feeling that particular attack. The creature held a pose, and Balthazar expected some sort of magical projection from a punch, like a fireball.

What he did not expect was for a portal to appear in front of its fist and direct the attack to Balthazar’s lower back. He barely managed to dodge the brunt of the attack, and his silk tunic protected him from the relatively low heat, but he could still feel some of that heat.

Balthazar, though he could easily beat the pair if he tried, could not use many of his abilities because of Coven consensus, which he agreed with at the time. He would rather be a coward than a hypocrite, though, so he backed off and sprinted away, back to where he smelt the freshest blood from. A minute later, he arrived at a large building, one that looked like a pyramid surrounded by plants and fungi, ranging from typical to abnormal. In front of that building, though, he found his Coven, all gathered around Nalge’s barrier. Surrounding the entrance to the pyramid, there were dozens of people in armor, all with eye symbols on their temples.

They worked impeccably together, exactly half of them diverting their shots towards Balthazar as soon as they saw him. He had to push some mana through his veins to avoid all of the attacks, and he managed to enter the barrier without many more injuries. “Balthazar! Finally! We were about to leave you behind!” Xilandria yelled.

“Yeah, sure,” Balthazar mumbled, “What is going on here!? They’ve got weapons that can hurt us!”

Mentska held up her tablet, showing him a bunch of charts that made little sense to him, “They’re using photon-based weapons that are as close to gamma rays as possible!” she shouted over the whines of the shots, “The only difference is the DNA destabilizing capabilities, or rather lack of such! The good news is, we don’t need to do a genetic reset after this fight!”

“Okay but what does that all mean?” Nalge asked, straining under the constant attack.

Mentska looked at Nalge as if he were stupid, “Gamma rays come from things like black holes, puslars, supernovae, and, you guessed it, stars! Like, I don’t know, the sun! If we were shot by that before we diminished that weakness, we would have been turned to ash in an instant!”

“Okay, so they can hurt us, great, I can hear some very large things approaching,” Ulenich said, “We have half a minute.”

All of them turned to the Elder, and she rubbed her chin, “Our hunt is over. We will find a new home and hunt from there. Now, all of you, prepare to take flight!” she shouted, her monkey-body slowly beginning to crack, emitting light. They all did the same, Nalge being the last as he was maintaining the barrier. A long moment later, the attacks stopped as the light grew too bright for any to see.

The Elder was the first to transform, then it was Mentska, then Xilandria, then Balthazar, then the rest of the Coven. In the end, the large, open area was significantly more cramped than before, as large, fifty foot tall, winged dragons, thirty in number appeared from the mortal shells they possessed before. The Elder roared in their native tongue, “We fly! Once we are in the vacuum of space, we can begin to plot a course!” she roared, and they all took off. Purple beams struck at Nalge’s barrier without effect, and they were above the blue sky in due time. They all shared looks, and Ulenich widened his claws. In an instant, a portal appeared, and they all left the world, looking for a place to lick their wounds.

*=====*

It had been running for far too long. Ever since it had done battle with the seventeenth Greater God’s servant, it had been on the backfoot. Even before then, it was trapped in a single, dying dimension, waiting for its psychic mass to be spread across the Rift like a water balloon being blown out of the sky by a rifle shot.

But, like a lizard sacrificing its tail to escape a predator, it managed to escape that trap by sacrificing most of its psychic mass. Though, if its actions were interpreted through the lizard simile, it would be like sacrificing the entire body to save the tail. But it was one stubborn being, and, even with the majority of its psychic mass destroyed and the servants of the Greater Gods on its heels, it managed to escape.

Finding psychic mass was difficult; not only was any quality mass difficult to attain, absorb, and turn into useful tools, its pursuers would disrupt its hold on that mass every chance they could. It could simply create more psychic mass, using hybrid mass and physical mass to create it, but its quality would be severely lacking. So much so that it doubted making use of that mass was worth it, apart from inexpensive metaphorical tails to throw off its pursuers for a few hours.

It kept running. And running. And running. It occasionally sent out nascent psychic masses to distract its pursuers, but it was constantly on the run. It hated it. It had once been the most powerful individual being it knew, harvesting vast quantities of psychic mass without expending any superfluous energy, yet he had been reduced to being unable to harvest anything greater than paltry crumbs.

But, finally, it had found a way forward. One that did not rely on it trying to play nice with anyone or anything. A new dimension had been opened up, and with its prodigious psychic senses, it could see that it was infinite. Not just as a singular, flat plane, though, but as a galaxy. The former was rare, while the latter was unique. It would be nearly trivial to rebuild in the latter.

So, it took its chances. It evaded its pursuers and, with liberal use of hybrid mass, managed to escape into the galaxy. Its physical conduits were not important enough to monitor directly, even if it only had a few dozen of them left, but it did sense psychic mass. Not a vast amount, and certainly not the emperor’s ransoms it was used to, but it was enough.

It got to harvesting without delay. It began with some of the more isolated ones, the ones near the peripheries of the psychic whole. Then, once it had enough physical conduits, it began to assimilate larger groups. There was a particular psychic mass group that it hunted down, one with interesting physical mass that it could make use of. Instead of assimilating the psychic mass connected to the local physical mass, it simply subordinated it, extracting valuable upgrades to its physical conduits from the subordinated psychic masses. It was quite close to reaching critical mass-- the point where the sheer weight of numbers drowned its enemies-- but then the trouble began.

The psychic mass, belonging to it by birthright, struggled, destroying many of its physical conduits. That much was expected, as most mass was protected by guardians. But then it began to look at the numbers. It was losing far more conduits than it expected. Believing that the subordinated psychic mass was failing, it peered into them, and realized a problem. The local psychic mass was flush with guardians. There were hundreds, thousands, even, for the relatively small collection it had found. Somewhat miffed, it tried sending more conduits after the guardians. The group of twenty conduits were entirely destroyed.

That got it thinking. If using high quality psychic mass was untenable, then perhaps using lesser quality mass would help it reduce the losses of said high quality mass. It threw the idea to the subordinated masses, and they, unanimously, agreed, though added a caveat. They were not the best at creating low quality mass-- even though, to it, creating any psychic mass without the use of both hybrid mass or psychic mass was bordering on fiction-- and while it would receive plenty of numbers, their quality would be lacking.

It did not care. It wanted quantity, not quality, and it said as much to its subordinated masses. They all simply acknowledged its desire and got to work. It psychically smiled. It had never stooped to using such low quality mass, but it had experienced many firsts throughout the previous half millennium, and this would be no different.

*=====*

Krakeet scurried through the crevices of the big-people bird, clutching a small loaf of bread. The big-people bird was a really big thing, especially for Krakeet. She, despite being the largest of her clan, and probably bigger than most of her kin, was only half the size of the average furless big-people. That big-people bird could hold hundreds, if not thousands of big-people. It made her wonder how they made something so cool, but she ignored the thought niggling in the back of her mind.

Even if the cool things they had were cool, Krakeet was not foolish enough to expose herself to the big-people. Ever since she had been born, which was only a few days prior, in fact, she had sensed the tension. The big-people were scared. Armored big-people patrolled around, jumping at shadows and attacking anything they saw that they did not recognize. Or that was how she thought of it. Her kin had been attacked once or twice, entirely due to their own greed or stupidity, but they were able to scurry away before they died.

She had just managed to escape the star-light when she heard the growls and groans of the big-people. She peeked her head out, and noticed that it was not, in fact, actual big-people. They were only wide-people, with thick hides and funny horns. That did not make them any less scary, though, and Krakeet shied away as they made growls and groans at the open door-thingy she used to bring her clan into the big-people bird.

Finally, after a while of growling, the one on the left yelled, then slammed the door-thingy closed. Krakeet, while wanting to check to make sure her and her clan could escape in case the big-people came looking for them or the big-people bird took flight, had to bring her harvest to her clan.

She navigated the small tunnels in the big-people bird, going through metal veins and passing through the beating heart of the big-person bird, before she reached the belly of the beast. It was a large room, filled with shelves and tables, but it was dusty. It was before Krakeet and her clan arrived, at any rate, since they took to cleaning the area with vigor when they arrived. She dove out from a metal vein and landed on her paws, silent.

She looked over to her clan, who were gathering their possessions into a small pile, and gave a greeting growl. They all yelped and looked up at her, giving growls of their own. Krakeet showed off her spoils, and they all yipped in happiness. She then looked at the matriarch, her mother. She was a large kin, with scales of resplendent purple and eyes that literally shone with life-magic. They pulsed blue every so often, as if something had been dropped into the ocean that were her eyes.

The matriarch gave a smile with her snout, her large ears flattening as she looked at her daughter. Krakeet beamed, ears standing on end, as she gave the matriarch the loaf. Nodding, Krakeet’s mother shared the bread out to the rest of the clan. They had long since learned that they needed incredibly little food compared to big-people and their similars, like the wide-people. What would last a big-person a day would last them a month. Not that they knew that after they became what they were, but they were inferring from their previous, less intelligent, smaller forms. But, if they did not want to be weak and infirm, they needed their food as much as the big-people. Only by eating as much as a month’s worth of food in a few days could they maintain a proper physique.

Krakeet looked at her kin, all somewhat thin and entirely happy in spite of it. She looked up, making sure that the light bulb was still removed. Krakeet and her kin were not blinded by light, but they preferred darkness. Along with cramped spaces, like the metal veins. And being close to each other. They liked that last one so much that most of her clan were huddled around the oldest member of their clan, a middle aged he-kin.

Krakeet was about to take a seat, to cuddle with the matriarch, when she felt it. The big-people bird began to shake and tremble. Krakeet jumped to her paws and growled, her ears flattened. After a moment, she felt herself being pressed into the floor, her little legs barely keeping her steady. Then, after a while, the force stopped, and she was launched into the ceiling. Krakeet managed to free herself from the insidious laws of force before long, and floated over to her clan to make sure that they were okay.

They were all fine, but that was not the only thing that was worrying. Using her large ears, she heard something from beyond the rusty, web-covered door they all shied away from. It was the growls and hums of big-people. Before Krakeet could even compel her clan to run, the door swung open, and a big-person burst into the room, weapon-- which Krakeet managed to learn from watching big-people use them to attack the couple nasty beasties around-- in front of him.

Krakeet, as the largest of the clan, scurried in front of her family, despite the lack of gravity, blocking the big-person’s weapon from being pointed at them. The big-person, aimed his weapon, then blinked. He blinked again, then slowly lowered his weapon. He then pulled out a small black box and began to hoot into it. He then sighed, turning around to the open doorway and hooting again, this time in an angry fashion. At once, a duo of other big-people emerged, poking their heads into the clan’s hidey hole. They both stared at Krakeet, then at her clan, then drifted over to the first big-person.

One of them made their weird noises at the others, then one of the others hooted at the woman-big-person. Krakeet, knowing that they were using something she vaguely knew as ‘language,’ ushered her clan back into the wall, still in front of them.

The three big-people eventually gave the clan wary looks, then backed up to the door, watching them, but not attacking. Krakeet narrowed her eyes, hissing at her clan mates. Since they did not have that fancy ‘language’ that the big-people had, they did not understand that she was telling them to run. They all shrunk back into the corner even more, much to Krakeet’s chagrin.

Eventually, the lack of gravity came to a sudden end, and Krakeet, along with her entire clan, were thrown to the floor. Krakeet gathered her bearings quickly, leaping upwards and glaring at the big-people, who simply looked remorseful for forcing Krakeet’s clan to the ground. She gave a little growl at them, and they simply held their ground. If Krakeet were like any other clan, she would have abandoned the entire group as soon as the big-people appeared. But she was part of her mother’s clan, and they stuck together. Even if it meant facing down a big-person with a weapon.

It was a while before anything changed, and the change came in the form of a big-person in metal armor stepping behind the three other big-people. After making one of their weird big-people noises, the three turned, then jumped as if they had seen a hideous monster. Krakeet would know; she saw plenty of monsters back in the underground. The four big-people talked for a while, but it was mostly the armored big-person speaking while the other three desperately gave answers.

After a bit, the armored big-person stepped past the three and entered. It was a she, and she was tall. Taller than two of the three other big-people. She was also unarmed, but Krakeet knew not to trust that. Her clan lived close to the surface of the underground, and she had seen big-people kill monsters with blasts of life-magic. Being unarmed was not the most reassuring thing.

The big-person woman approached, hands held out and palms facing Krakeet. On an instinctual level, Krakeet knew that the big-person was showing, if not submission, then at least some form of goodwill. As she approached, though, Krakeet could make out more details of the woman. Her armor was white. Blindingly so. Krakeet had seen a few other things as white as the big-person’s armor, one of them being a fancy big gem that the clan directly below them, by a few hundred feet, kept in their cavern.

No matter how dark it was, Krakeet could see the big-person clearly, along with the strange pair of eye symbols on her head, and the big-person seemed to be able to do the same. When the two were only a few feet apart, Krakeet growling and just about ready to give ripping the woman’s throat out her best shot, something echoed in her mind, [I mean you no harm,] the voice said. Krakeet thought, no, knew that the voice was coming from the big-person in front of her, [I promise. I don’t want to hurt you, and I doubt you want me to hurt you either. So, let’s just get along for now. Is that alright?] she asked.

Krakeet did not know how to respond, in the most literal way possible, but it seemed that her mind managed to figure it out, [How can I trust you?] she mind-snarled, [You big-people have been attacking everything you don’t recognize for days now. How do I know that you aren’t just trying to get me to let my guard down?] Krakeet felt, in comparison to the big-person in front of her, that they were equals. It was not pride, either; she could feel the utter steel of the woman’s mind, and Krakeet could match it with steel of her own.

Despite her declaration of suspicion, warm, joyful emotions passed over the strange Connection, along with an icy coldness, [I don’t mean to be rude, but if I really wanted to, there is nothing you could do to stop me from doing… Well, whatever I wanted. But I don’t want to do that,] she said, a bit of remorse coming through, [But the reason why you should trust me is this: you don’t really have any other choice. You either trust me, and I bring you back to the branch location, or you don’t, and you get imprisoned for sneaking onto this dropship. So, what’ll it be?]

Krakeet did not like her seemingly… casual relationship with violence, but there was not a hint of malice in her mind. Not towards her and her clan, at any rate. Krakeet could feel a bit of wrath bubbling underneath the surface, but the target of said wrath was so far removed from both Krakeet and her clan that she did not need to worry about it, [I… fine. I’ll convince the clan to follow you. But I still don’t trust you.]

The big-person giggled, [I don’t mind, dear,] she said, [A healthy amount of suspicion and paranoia is the Inquisitor’s way. Ah, I forgot to give my name, huh? I’m Inquisitor Skuldingdottir. What about you? What’s your name?]

Krakeet opened her mouth a bit, [Krakeet. I don’t know if anyone else has a name,] she replied, loosing her stance a bit, [So, what now?] she asked, stepping forwards. Some of her clan made little whines, mostly the young, the comparatively smaller males, and those who had seen big-people on their worse days before. The females and matriarch all maintained their place, in front of the other clan members. Krakeet turned them, and gestured to the door to the lit hallway. The clan members all gave each other wary looks, but none moved.

Then, the matriarch stepped forwards, following her daughter. Then came a pair of males. Then a mixed group. Then, after a few more groups, the entire clan of over a hundred kin followed behind her. Inquisitor Skuldingdottir nodded, offering a hand. Krakeet stared at the hand for a moment, [Take my hand, dear. Just so people know you’re with me. Okay?] Krakeet took another moment to stare at the Inquisitor’s hand, and obliged. As the Inquisitor led the large clan of kin out, Krakeet did not wonder if she made the right choice, but instead wondered if there was a choice to make at all.

*=====*

In a dark, shadow-wreathed room, seven people all sat around a table. The circular table was made entirely of titasteel, decorated with intermittently carved eyes. The walls of the room were shiny black, with a single one taken up by a large screen, glowing with monotone gray save for a red waveform in the corner. Every one of the people sitting around the table were wearing an Inquisition dress uniform, with a litany of medals on their breasts. A number of the medals commonly worn by them all were Inquisition secrets in and of themselves, their existence kept quiet to prevent knowledge of the medals’ requirements from causing a mass panic.

The species spread of the Seats was almost entirely even, with only a single additional Ukalan Seat present. After a moment of looking around, the First Seat, a Vikshe woman in advanced age, knocked her knuckles on the table, “Good day, everyone. I am happy to see that everyone could make it to this week’s meeting. I know you were busy last week, F-A-Eight, and I am glad that your problem has been taken care of. Now, let us get onto our schedule for this meeting.”

The Fifth Seat, an elderly Cilerien sharpening his blade-arms, scoffed, the aquatic audio enhancer reproducing his words, “This meeting will be going into next week, with everything that has happened.” The other Seats chuckled, more at themselves than at the joke, but the Fifth Seat sighed as everyone quieted down, “I suggest we start with the assassination of the the Chancelor.”

“I was thinking the same,” the First Seat said. Everyone nodded, and she continued, “I have personally seen to it that the NTK-1 Team has begun investigating the incident. Does anyone have anything else to say on this matter?”

The Fourth Seat, a young human man, raised his hand, “I do,” he said, “What should we say to the public? We are obviously going to be seen as the ones responsible for sorting this mess out--”

“We are the ones sorting this mess out,” the Seventh Seat, an Ukalan woman in her middle ages cut in, “And as for what we are going to say to the public? We are going to tell them that, whoever this is, could have been stopped if there was a greater understanding of this new anomalous energy-- this Ether that those Riftborn speak about. I mean, have you heard some of the reports of the Mind and this new energy? It melts the Mind if there is no vessel to contain it. And the fire burned away the Chancellor's Mind beyond even that.”

“Actually, we should set up a proper name for this stuff, apart from the mysterious salesman’s name for it,” the Third Seat, a young Seeker man said, “I was speaking with my husband, and he suggested a terran term-- he could not tell me where he remembered hearing about it, though. He suggested the term ‘thaumaturgy’ to refer to this new ‘magic,’ and the term ‘thaum’ to refer to the energy itself.”

The First Seat nodded, “I believe this can help clarify communication about this subject. All in favor?” she asked. All of them unanimously raised their hands, the waveform on the screen pulsing to show its assent, “Good. Then that is one thing done. Next, we were speaking about what to release on the Chancellor’s death?”

“We were,” the Fourth Seat replied, “I think we should think about our credibility here. We are, I think, in the most tumultuous time in Inquisition history. A new, never before seen energy has made an appearance, anomal- I mean thaumaturgical beings are popping out of the woodwork, and people are receiving powers they should not have. Right now, the people have confidence in us, but we are spread too thin. Every planet, astrodock, and small settlement on a god-forsaken asteroid in the League is having issues, and we just cannot spare enough Inquisitors to get the jobs done. I have reports of Investigation Unit Inquisitors having to take Assault Unit missions, and not in any insignificant numbers either.”

“Then what do you suggest?” the Second Seat, an old Ukalan woman asked, “Do we hire mercenaries to take care of the missions we cannot deal with? If anything, I believe that there needs to be a fundamental shift in the organization of the Inquisition.” Everyone was listening, though some rolled their eyes, so she continued, “We need permanent presences on worlds and in astrodocks. We cannot just keep sending Inquisitors whenever an issue comes up, but we need to prevent issues from happening in the first place.”

“Second Seat,” the First Seat said, “You have suggested this dozens of times already. No one has agreed, and especially now is not the time to shake our roots. We need to stay steady until we find our place, and altering how our Inquisitors operate will not help anyone.”

“Actually,” the Sixth Seat, a young Meytvani woman, said, “I think she has a point,” she said. There was a moment of silence at that, “Hey, I agree that preventative measures need to be taken, but we cannot shake our fundamental foundations as an organization. No, I think we need a few new roles.” The Sixth Seat had just as much, if not more, attention as the Second Seat did, and she did not waste the chance, “I suggest that we begin two new units: the Auxiliary Unit, and the Watcher Unit. The Auxiliary Unit can be recruited from experienced bounty hunters, soldiers, and, yes, mercenaries, but they have to be under the command of an Inquisitor, to be used as backup and assistance for their duties. Secondly, the Watcher Unit can be part of a norman Inquisitor’s potential path, but they are placed on a planet or astrodock to prevent use of Forbidden technology or thaumaturgy.”

There was a long moment of silence as the Seats pondered the Sixth Seat’s suggestion, “May I make a suggestion?” the Third Seat asked, to which the Sixth nodded, “Thank you. I believe that we can recruit more than just soldiers and warriors for the Auxiliary Unit. We can hire investigators, spies, and scholars for positions under every Unit.”

There was some nodding at that, but the Fourth Seat raised his hand again, “I know that this idea is quite attractive, but we need to be able to test it. And, right now, I do not know who we can spare to test this new idea.”

“I do,” the First Seat said, “F-A-Eight, bring up the case file of Arthur Wan, please,” she said. The waveform on the gray screen pulsed once, and the file was immediately pulled up, alongside five other personal files and dozens of case files, “I believe that this gentleman here is the perfect person to try the Sixth Seat’s suggestion with. He also happens to be the first to begin a cross-species mentorship, by my own suggestion.”

“This seems like quite a bit of favoritism,” the Fifth Seat remarked, “Wait, I said that wrong. I meant to ask what this boy did to you to deserve your personal attention.” There were more than a few hearty chuckles at the Fifth Seat’s remark, “But, if you believe that this is our candidate, then I vote in favor.”

The First Seat nodded, “Thank you. We might as well vote on the entire plan and go from there. So, all in favor of establishing the Auxiliary Unit and the Watcher Unit, and beginning the trial of the Auxiliary Unit with Inquisitor Wan?” Everyone raised their hands again, “Really? In that case, it is settled. Now then, onto the next matter…”

*====*

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