Today, in Adringum's capital, there was a strange mood in the air. Soldiers lined the streets. People peeked out windows to catch a glimpse at the happenings. But everyone knew it; the city was captured. There was no resistance; they had let them in. Half of the nobles who pledged to protect them had fled, and the other half had welcome the new tyrant with open arms. It was a time of turmoil, and turmoil never favored the people.

       Rory had already messaged with Aria via letters and couriers, but he would formally meet her, and the rest of the nobles who stayed, at the Royal Palace. As she advised, he marched there with his forces—a show of force, if you will. Really, he was just tired of it all by now. But there was still one last matter he had to attend to.

       The nobles welcomed him in a circle, with Aria at the charge. She walked over.

       "Welcome, glorious liberator, he who has removed the tyrant Hellbram from our country, he who—"

       "Okay, I don't really give a shit. Aria, can I talk to you for a second? Alone?"

       She looked shocked for a second, but quickly recovered. "Why, of course," she answered, moving with him to a corner.

       "Where is Illan?"

       "Tykis?"

       "What other Illan is there?"

       "He fled with the King."

       "What?"

       She shook her head. "I was surprised as well. He'd been a driving force in the movement and one of your allies for a long time."

       "Damn it! Aria, this ceremony can wait. I need to chase after them. Where are they going?"

       "To the west, that's all I know—wait, Rory, do you understand how important this is?"

       "No, and I don't care to know. Tell them that, that we need to finish Hellbram off or something."

       "But Rory, you could just leave them in exile, they can't do anything—"

       "I am chasing after them. Oh, yes, and I need you to provide accommodations for some twenty children, black fatigues, can turn invisible, you understand?"

       "Erm, no?"

       "Well, fine. I don't either. Give them some nice rooms, and whatever you do, do not tell them that I am chasing Illan."

       "Can you explain a little more?"

       Rory sighed. "It's a long story, and I don't have the time. The gist is that I am afraid that Illan still exerts some amount of control over them, but I don't want to tell them that. They will no doubt wish to follow me if unattended. That's why I need you to lie and make excuses and all that good stuff." He turned around. "I'm going, wish me luck."

       "Are you going alone!?"

       "Indeed. I've got too much time on my hands, see," he said, taking off at a light pace.

       She reached out for him. "Wait, stop—" she pleaded, but gave up with a sigh. She turned around and smiled awkwardly at the remaining nobles. "Well, it seems that Rory has, uh, bowel issues right now? He may not see you for... a few weeks. Please be... patient..."

       It had been a few days. Rory rode hard, and, he calculated, he would catch up with the fleeing nobles soon enough, given the chain of goods and servants that would no doubt follow them.

       As the forest cleared up in front of him, he saw wisps of smoke float upwards on the horizon; it was probably their fires. The time was a little off; the day was still young, in the off period between breakfast and lunch where there would likely be no cooking, but it didn't really matter.

       He dismounted and started stalking forwards. He would get close, turn on Chronos, abduct Illan, and get out. Dangerous, perhaps, but there was no way he was letting Illan escape. He was too important, both emotionally and pragmatically.

       As he neared, something seemed off. The smoke was much thicker than he expected. Why would they have bonfires? Sensing that something was wrong, he hurried along. When he rounded the top of the hill, his question was answered: numerous caravans, tents, and other pieces of furniture sat on great pyres, on which hundreds of corpses laid, burning away.

       And there, in of the clearing, watching everything with a smile, was Illan. Rory turned on Chronos and sprinted forwards. He must've killed everyone else. But why? And how?

       When he got only a few feet from Illan, he took another look at his face on a whim. There he was, standing in the middle of the carnage, a neutral look on his face, as if he was considering something.

       Wait.

       Rory backed off immediately, pulling out his sword.

       "Stop with the charades," he said, eyeing Illan warily.

       At once, he broke off from his pose and smiled at Rory. "How'd you know?"

       "You were smiling before. Now you're not."

       "Oh. I was hoping to have some fun. Alas, my acting skills are not up to par."

       "How can you move?"

       "You very well know the answer to that. Do you think your the only one from the past? The only one with alien technology?"

       Rory held the sword up. "How are you still alive then? Borrowed time like me?"

       "I didn't finish," he said, holding up his hand. "Do you think you're the only one? Well, if you did, you'd be correct. I am not from your time."

       "Then how—"

       "But someone else is. Someone very familiar with those Alien's you detest so much."

       "Who?"

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       Illan laughed. "In a lonely space, in a lonely cell, there lies the only man to truly survive the invasion. He told me."

       "Thanks for the cryptic bullshit. Really helpful."

       "It's all I can offer, I'm afraid. Now, Rory, what do you want? You're pointing that sword very menacingly."

       Rory carefully began to advance. "You are unarmed. Even if time flows for you, you are still at a disadvantage. You will come back with me as a prisoner, and I will find out exactly how you're doing all of this."

       "I'm not going to fight you."

       "You will surrender, then? I doubt it. What's your trump card?"

       "Very intuitive of you. I have something of value." Illan snapped his fingers. A masked figure appeared next to him. He unsheathed a blade and held it beside his neck. "Surely you know who this is?"

       Rory stopped. "...I do indeed."

       "It appears we are at a standstill."

       "It appears so." He relaxed his stance. "If you are feeling so generous with your information, how exactly did you control him?"

       "Humanity is at the brink of elimination. And yet, there is still squabbling and complaining over the most trivial of issues. Police brutality, child cruelty. What's that compared to the crisis the entire species face?"

       "Is this something your friend told you?"

       "Correct. And so he and his friends devised a way to control the people. Focus their minds upon one singular task. You, too, were under their spell. Did you not feel overwhelming anger and indignation at the evident defeat of humanity?"

       Rory thought about it; it was true, he was quite adamant about saving humanity when he first arrived. The attitude only changed when he was beaten... just as Sarra was...

       Illan shrugged. "He merely passed on that technology to me. And now, your little friend feels a stronger impulse to die than disobey me."

       "Why did you kill all of them?"

       "That was my intention all along. Worthless idiots. The only people who should be in power are people like you or me, people who know what humanity's true potential is."

       "Why are you doing this?"

       "Why? well, I don't exactly want to be taken prisoner and tortured for information."

       "You know what I mean. How long have you known about me? What are you scheming for?"

       "I realized that you are not of this time when we first met. Normal people can not teleport. As for my plans, I merely want to strengthen humanity. Come, Rory, put down your weapon and join me. I have helped you out a great deal."

       "Such as?"

       "The Roniceri, for instance. Trained in weapon usage, given alien technology, brain washed to be absolutely loyal to you. What's not to love?"

       "How about the part where they are more loyal to you than me?"

       "Given our current situation, it was a good idea, no?" Illan said, shrugging. "Well? Will you join me?"

       "You can go suck one."

       "I was afraid you would say that." His face turned harsh. He drew a blade. "You do not approve of my methods, correct?"

       "Correct," Rory said, backing off.

       "Then you will either kill me and your friend, or keep your ideal and die. Strike me and he will commit suicide."

       Rory continued to back off.

       "Continue to retreat and he will commit suicide."

       Rory grimaced and stopped. Was there no way out? Illan was getting closer and closer. Soon, he was in striking distance.

       Illan shook his head. "So, you choose your ideals? A damn fool, that's what you are," he said, raising his blade.

       Live, live! He had to live... that was the decision he made. But he made it too late. The blade was falling, and it was too late to stop it.

       And then the blade kept falling. It fell and fell, off to the side, bouncing harmlessly on the ground. The hands that once held it were frozen in the air, spasming slightly.

       A blade was pierced through Illan's chest. But the blade also went through another chest.

       He coughed, specks of blood coming out. "Apparently... if they want to die and disobey me... it doesn't work out so well for me," he said, laughing at the end.

       The masked one, or Gilas, immediately dropped to the ground, dead. His sword had first pierced his heart, then entered into Illan's lower torso. Illan dropped down soon after him.

       "Listen to me, Rory. I have some final advice for you. You may mourn for your friend later."

       Rory knelt by the two of them.

       "Out far in the east... in the great Empire that rules in the center... there's one of them..."

       "Them?"

       "Those aliens of yours. A nascent one, one that has yet to understand what they are. Find it, train it, kill it, but do not let her run free. There are others in this world that know as you and I do. Find her before they find her."

       Illan coughed again. "There was a saying, back in a time before even yours.

       "Born too late to explore the world, born too early to explore the stars. Born just right to browse dank memes."

       He laughed. "Plenty of opportunity to explore the world now. Will you complete the rest?"

—

At this point I don't care about the way this plot thread is going. Half of this was written a month ago.