“Everyone, this is not a drill. Do not read out loud. Do NOT react visibly.
Proscious has been detected here in Boston.”
Deon stood numb. He’d discerned something was horribly wrong even before he read Credo’s message for himself: the moment he’d set foot into their team den, he saw it all over Lammy’s face.
And now, as celebration continued showering them all around, their ultimate darkness had returned.
“Let’s hear it one more time for this fight’s victors: TEAM HIROKO!!!”
Deon found an odd comfort knowing he wasn’t the only one struggling to play along. His teammates surrounded him in the center of the Hynes Stadium platform, sending waves and smiles all around.
But they’d seen the message, too.
A spotlight blinded the stars, turning their thousands of fans—some devout, and some new—into faceless phantoms. All of those eager eyes had been filling Deon with adrenaline. But now they were the team’s biggest obstacle.
There was a second message, and Deon hoped the others had caught it before their personnel ushered them out to the platform:
“As soon as you have a chance to sneak away, take it. We need to act.”
The crowd’s adoration continued flooding Deon. It was everything he’d dreamed of—but now wasn’t the time to receive it.
Never thought I’d think this, but we need to wrap this up, he knew. This is our chance.
This could be our ticket to saving Pang.
Under the guise of a congratulatory high-five, Skrili caught Deon’s eyes. In that instant, he could read right through her: through her exaggerated smile, and her smoky, extravagant makeup.
‘Stay patient,’ she urged without words.
Behind her, Phillip waved politely to a cluster of newfound fans in the nearest front row. But at his side, he squeezed his free hand so tight it had gone pale. His fist shook.
Deon’s heart skipped.
We won’t screw it up this time.
“Well, I’m interested in what this team does next,” Lune’s voice echoed all around. “But it’s pretty safe to say they earned those matching tattoos tonight. I’m sure they’ll keep making Hiroko proud.”
Deon smirked. You bet we will. Right now.
With the formalities complete, the team made their way back to their den—forcing themselves not to move too swiftly in the process.
Otogi led the way, stepping in first. He cocked his head back.
“We’ve got a few minutes to ourselves, then it’s debriefings and press all night,” he reminded them.
Deon nodded. Translation: now’s our only opening to sneak off and find them.
Lammy leapt from the bench and joined the group. They brushed shoulders with still-giddy personnel as they fought to stay close to each other.
The back door was steps away.
“Team! Debrief in five, alright?”
The voice was so bright and lively, Deon didn’t recognize it until he turned around. Mr. Truj was beaming at them.
“Five…give or take!” replied Otogi, still inching away with the rest.
“We uh, might be a little late!” stressed Deon.
“Or really late…” chimed in Kotono.
“Huh?”
“Bye!!” everyone exclaimed, darting for the exit.
Mr. Truj froze as he watched them scurry off, but his smile remained. “Well alright, I’ll see you all soon! You too, Lammy—or should I say: Assistant Coach Lammy! Haha!”
His laugh gradually faded as they entered the long hallway and broke into a more urgent dash.
“Well that wasn’t smooth at all,” Skrili remarked.
“It’s fine,” assured Otogi. “Truj seems cool with it.”
Deon checked back and found nobody tailing them. “Yeah…what’s up with that, anyway? One win, and he trusts us?”
“He’s a coach. He’s results-oriented,” said Otogi. “Sneaking away…following a kid’s advice…if it gets us the win, it gets us the win. As far as he’s concerned, this is just our process.”
Skrili’s pace took the lead. “Well I’ll take whatever reason, as long as it gets us out there fast. Phillip, can you cloak us?”
“We’re already invisible.”
“Good.”
“Um, g—guys…” came Kotono’s utterance from behind. “Call incoming…”
Deon and the rest whipped out their TeamTracks.
“Team Hiroko, are you alone?”
Credo’s voice came to them. He must have opted for audio-only, as a projection of his face didn’t appear over their screens like Deon had grown accustomed to.
“We’re hidden,” Phillip assured once more.
“Excellent fighting tonight—but you may need to keep it up now. Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to explain,” he breathed. “My security department monitors all events for potential threats, and our Thoughtreaders spotted a suspicious individual. He seemed to be using powers to block any intrusions into his mind.”
“Seems sketchy…” agreed Otogi.
“Are we sure this is a Proscious thing?” Skrili questioned.
“I doubted it at first, too. But as they surveyed him, he began using illusions to try masking his whereabouts.”
“So he’s blocking Thoughtreaders, and he’s an Illusionist…” Otogi analyzed. “Then that’s two different consciousness types, isn’t it?”
Deon found Skrili’s sober gaze. Then Lammy’s and Kotono’s.
Multiple types: the most blatant sign.
“It’s them,” Lammy nearly whispered.
Suddenly, Phillip’s run intensified into a near-sprint. He overtook the others. “It’s Proscious. Tell me where he is, NOW!”
Deon felt a chill.
Credo seemed unperturbed by, or rather, understanding of Phillip’s outburst. He spoke hastily. “My security are monitoring him closely on the first floor of the convention center. It appears he wants to approach the secret entryway to the stadium, but he’s spooked. I’ve told my team to keep a close eye and—”
“LET’S MOVE!!” Phillip boomed.
“Be careful—ALL of you,” Credo stressed.
“It’s…strange…” came Lammy’s labored observation from the back of the pack.
Noticing his cousin’s gasps, Deon imagined a flying plank beneath his feet and flew him along.
“What’s up, Coach?”
“Well…Proscious knows we’re aware of their goals. But they’re making a move right under our noses, anyway—and during such a high-profile moment,” Lammy explained. “This risks bringing attention to themselves…unless they’re convinced whatever they’re doing will work.”
“Sharp thinking,” affirmed Credo. “You’re right: this move doesn’t add up. Be ready.”
Deon cracked his knuckles. “That’s what you should tell them.”
“Remember: he’s using illusions, so physical descriptions won’t be reliable,” Credo stressed. “Try to rely on your powers, and keep an eye on your TeamTracks for updates.”
“Got it.”
With a final word of encouragement, Credo ended the call. The team poured all of their energy back into their rush.
~
Phillip and Skrili were the first to burst through the secret elevator’s exit and enter the convention. The others followed suit, the elevator door morphing into the illusion of a simple curtain behind them.
They immediately struggled to gather together, finding themselves mixed into a crowd that proved oblivious to their sudden arrival.
“Cool, that’s $26.50.”
The same manga vendor who had checked them in yesterday tended to the booth, feigning the same obliviousness as the others.
Man, they’re REALLY good at keeping secrets, Deon remarked to himself. Speaking of that…
“Where is this loser?”
Everyone looked to Phillip, but his own eyes darted everywhere in uncertainty.
“I sense nothing—only the illusions for the Special League,” Phillip cursed. “He must still be in this room.”
Phillip stormed ahead, so the group slipped their way between the flocks of cosplayers and fanatics to follow him.
Deon strained his eyes, peering all around. Not only was this place massive, it was even more flooded with people than their last visit. “Uh, ‘in this room’ doesn’t exactly narrow it down,” he said.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
But Phillip stormed on, leaving barely any regard for sticking together.
Even as they reached the themed slot machines and plushy displays in the center, Phillip showed no sign of detecting their target. The longer they wandered to no avail, the quicker he paced ahead.
Then soon, Deon found it had become easier to navigate the crowd—people were stepping out of the way and avoiding their path.
Otogi lowered his head beside Deon, noticing it, too. “Hey uh…we’re still hidden, right?” he called to Phillip stiffly. “If not, any consciousnesses up here will recognize us and slow us—”
“We’re visible now to get around faster. But I’ve disguised all of our appearances,” Phillip shot back. “I’m desperate, not stupid.”
His voice was cutting, even if its sharpness wasn’t intended for them. Deon could see it in his shadowy frown: this was an intensity he hadn’t felt from Phillip since the moment he set out to look for Irma, after they defeated Wei.
Phillip was not willing to turn up empty-handed this time. That much was clear.
And that seemed to be the case for everyone, as nobody paid mind to his snapping retort—not even Otogi, its recipient.
“Nice,” he remarked. “Then let’s find this—”
“They found him,” Skrili interrupted.
Everyone skidded to a stop.
Deon had barely felt his TeamTrack start to vibrate before she spoke. She’d seen the new message before anyone else had been able to process its existence.
“Outside. Boylston Street. Move!”
“H—he went outside?” Kotono wondered.
“That’s the street we’re on! Let’s go!” growled Phillip.
This time they had little concern for keeping a low profile. People shuffled out of the way as their stampede unfolded through the rest of the dealer’s room and into the main hallway. A couple security workers yelled after them to slow down, but made no further efforts.
“Uh—Phil!”
While the rest were mindful that any added speed would raise dangerous suspicion, Phillip broke away in his sprint.
Skrili restrained her full speed, keeping pace with Deon, Lammy, and Kotono.
“This really isn’t ideal,” she uttered back. “We need a gameplan.”
“Right, but…try…telling…him that!” gasped Lammy.
Far ahead, Phillip cleared the front stairs in a single leap. People gasped, before applauding as if his stunt were staged. He wasted no time barging through the front doors.
Skrili watched on with clouded eyes. While they were fixed on the slowly closing doors, Deon knew all she saw was her younger self, rushing into the farm to exact her revenge on her brother’s killers.
Phillip was making the same rash mistake.
And having been on the other side of it now, Deon felt the same pressure as his companion. If she hadn’t talked him down from his own rage back in Azvaylen, Lammy would be dead now.
She was right: this wasn’t the way.
“Phillip! Hold up, will ‘ya?!” Deon tried.
With subtlety all but compromised, the team picked up their pace. Deon, Skrili, and Otogi skipped steps down the stairs, Kotono snuck puffs of energy to float behind them, and Lammy hopped his way down the mechanical moving staircase in the center.
Deon found himself almost missing a step at the bottom. To his confusion, the adrenaline that had catapulted him all this way from Hynes Stadium was rapidly depleting.
He could’ve sworn he heard the low, droning moans of the wires in the Dreamer Chamber again—the machines that took Hiroko’s life.
It sucked at his drive, draining it. And in its place, came dread.
The time had already come.
Diving from Azvaylen into the Special League was supposed to be the next stage of their war on Proscious. But somewhere between the crowds, the glamorous fights, and the luxurious travel, Deon realized it had become more of a respite from the truth.
Now, reality found him again. Danger caught him—all of them—unaware, with no chance to prepare themselves.
His loved ones were never truly safe. Pang’s survival was far from guaranteed.
It was time to return to the nightmare.
The group reconvened at the bottom of the stairs and dashed through the doors to the city street. All the while, Deon’s bones felt stiff.
“Phillip!” Lammy cried, nearly breathless.
It was quickly drowned out: beeps and screeches jolted the group to a stop. A cluster of vehicles skidded, their agitated drivers whirring around a ghostly obstacle in the middle of the road.
Phillip stood firm, unconcerned with the zooming cars as if he were impervious. His head darted all around in his continued hunt.
“Come on,” Skrili stressed to the others. “Careful.”
Once there came a wide enough opening in the street, the group sprinted together to join their teammate.
“Dude, we said wait up!” barked Deon.
At first, he thought Phillip was ignoring him. But he replied without ceasing his search. “I sensed the person for a second—I know I did!”
“Great,” said Skrili. “Now, we need to do this as a team—”
“THERE!”
Phillip’s finger pointed straight down the road. All Deon saw was a simple rock lying between two of the yellow dashes. But as Phillip strained, it eventually transformed.
The illusion faded, and in its place stood a figure in a gray hoodie. An incoming car spun out of his way just in time—ironically, Phillip may have saved this man’s life by cancelling out his illusion.
Phillip cursed. “It’s not Irma,” he spat.
Deon figured that should’ve already been obvious, given that Credo’s description didn’t fully align with her power types. Clearly, urgency must have clouded Phillip’s judgment and left room for his misplaced hope.
But it was far from time for disappointment. They were still face to face with the organization that stole their friend.
The unknown Proscious member didn’t flinch. He remained facing them, head low and fists out.
“WHERE IS PANG?!” Phillip boomed. “I’m giving you one singular chance to tell me!”
The man said nothing. Instead he turned, and made a break for it.
“HEY!!”
“Phillip,” Skrili pushed again, “We need to—”
He launched ahead, leaving the rest in the dust.
Skrili cursed.
“Welp,” figured Otogi, “let’s move!!”
The chase resumed. Deon checked back to his cousin as they ran—there was no way he could keep up at this rate. But instead, another spectacle yanked his attention.
“Hey, get outta the road! There’s people drivin’ ‘ere!”
A nearby vehicle flashed blue and red. A couple men in navy blue uniforms rushed from it into the street, but they paused where the team had just stood and began yelling at thin air. Even the surrounding cityfolks were transfixed on that spot, as if Deon and the others had never moved from it.
Nice, Phil! Deon noted. At least you’re still sorta thinking smart!
“Phillip’s disguising us again!” he called to the others. “Go all out!!”
Kotono ignited in a blend of white and gold, quickly matching Skrili and Otogi’s increased dash as she took to the air.
And in that case…Deon thought.
A wooden plank scooped up Lammy at his command. Lammy struggled to balance before surfing along with them, hair blowing in the wind. Satisfied, Deon conjured his own soaring board and flew them both along.
While he knew Lammy had his Loozooloozeux technique, he doubted Phillip could mask such a thing so passively. For now, this was their best bet.
Deon peered ahead. The hooded Proscious member was sprinting further down the road.
No—his body vanished, and Deon spotted the real him cutting down another street. The first had been another illusion that Phillip managed to block.
But the man was quick: he remained paces ahead of Phillip at top speed, dodging traffic and pedestrians with ease.
Deon swerved after his faster counterparts around an intersection. He slowed to fly parallel with Lammy.
“Hey, Coach! Gameplan?!”
“It’s way too late for one!” shouted Lammy. “But maybe, we can at least try to…”
Huh? thought Deon.
Though Lammy’s mouth kept moving, his voice disappeared.
“What, Lammy?” Deon tried to say—but even as he felt the words leave, they were soundless.
It wasn’t just Lammy: all sound had vanished.
The city noises, the wind, and their words were all gone.
The fighters tried communicating. They tried calling after Phillip. But it was all pointless now.
The Proscious member was getting away. And something about the utter silence of his escape chilled Deon’s body even further.
No…NO!
Kotono swung above all of them, her desperation seeming to match Deon’s. White and gold energy intensified around her, but it blended into a pale yellow. Nonetheless, Kotono pointed her hands out after their target and released.
The pale light rolled and waned like a rushing cloud as it traveled ahead of them all. It overtook Phillip, then at the end of the street it successfully enveloped the man in gray.
NICE!! Deon wished he could remark.
Much like the white light Kotono had used to end the fight earlier, he’d assumed this yellowish energy would catch the man in a floating halt. But instead, it seemed to merely tug at him and slow his retreat.
Kotono strained, her arms shaking.
But at this point, Deon could accept this weaker effect: it was enough for Phillip to finally close in.
He wound back a tight fist. If Deon could hear a thing, he knew Phillip’s roar would echo against the city buildings.
But with Phillip mere steps away, the Proscious member raised his hand. Something was in it—something glowing mostly white, with infinite colors intermingling.
Then, the glow enveloped the man. And with a flash, he was gone.
Phillip’s fist hung in the empty air for a moment. Then, he dropped and slammed it into the sidewalk.
The group finally reached him. Deon steered himself and Lammy to the ground and dismissed his wooden planks, and as he did, sound returned all at once.
It was jarring at first—the zooming cars, chatting pedestrians, and most of all, Phillip’s harsh breaths. People nearby were mindful to walk around the group, conscious of their existence now that Phillip’s illusions expired. A couple of them glanced his way in concern.
Deon checked around, but no trace of the Proscious member remained. The fact that Phillip had stopped trying altogether was all the more telling.
“A Fantasy Country warp orb…?” Lammy muttered in contemplation. “No…those colors…”
“Exactly,” agreed Skrili. “They looked like Worldline lights. And that white reminds me of how the Normal Country border looks from No Man’s Land. It must have been some sort of Proscious travel tech…”
Kotono’s dainty feet inched closer. “I’m s—sorry,” she muttered. “I guess I wasn’t c—confident enough in us this time…so my powers didn’t—”
“It’s not your fault.”
Everyone turned to Phillip, who still didn’t lift his hanging head.
“It’s mine,” he finished.
Deon chuckled at him. Ignoring the confused glances from all but Skrili, he walked over and gave Phillip a couple pats on the shoulder.
“Meh, been there,” he said. “Don’t sweat it, man.”
Nodding, Skrili offered her hand. “I know how badly you want to save Pang…believe me. This isn’t over, Phillip.”
Though reluctant, he eventually accepted. Phillip hid his face as Skrili helped him back to his feet.
Otogi admired them like he’d just witnessed the end of a play. “Man, you guys always find the vibe in the end. I love it. I’m glad Credo phoned me in for this. We’re saving Pang, hands-down.”
A buzz shook Deon’s pocket.
“Speaking of Credo, and phones…” noticed Otogi, whipping his TeamTrack out. “Sorry, boss. He got away.”
“I saw,” the League Leader confirmed. While the disappointment in his tone was tangible, his ensuing sigh was surprisingly patient. “We have no trace of him in the city yet. He likely fled the Country.”
Deon scoffed. “Couldn’t have been very tough if we scared him off that easily,” he grumbled. “Though…that silencing attack was kinda cool, I’ll give him that…”
“That was me,” Phillip admitted lowly. “I was trying to disorient his senses. You must have become accidental targets.”
“Oh.”
In that case, Phillip had been even more frantic than Deon realized, considering how precise he’d always been with his powers.
“But…” started Lammy, “I’m not sure we did scare him off…”
“What do you mean?”
Credo concurred. “Hm. Sharp of you again, Lammy. Those are my thoughts, as well.” He paused as someone seemed to be passing him by, before continuing quieter. “This may have been their intent all along.”
“What intent?”
Skrili rolled her eyes. “Will you just listen?”
“As Lammy said, they chose to make a move right in front of the only consciousnesses who have tried to stop them before,” Credo recounted. “I’m guessing that was no mistake—it may have been to see how you would react.”
“This was a test,” Lammy summed up, “and we just took the bait.”
“Right. They’ve confirmed you’re willing to do more than raise funds to find Pang, despite what we told the public,” Credo said. “That means they’ll hold you as a threat to any of their nearby schemes. But…it may also make you a primary target, if you weren’t one already.”
The team exchanged silent glances.
“They’ve already figured us out,” lamented Phillip.
“Don’t be discouraged. I made this strategy with these possibilities in mind,” Credo revealed. “They found your true intent. So now, they have to keep a closer eye on you—but since you’re in the limelight, they can’t come TOO close without revealing themselves to the Multiverse. We have them trapped at arm’s length…which will only make it easier for us to investigate them, and eventually, launch the perfect attack.”
Deon looked around again to his teammates, secretly as confused as before. But they all seemed to keep up, keen gleams in their eyes.
He figured he’d ask Lammy to break it down later. But if Credo’s multi-layered plan was enough for his teammates, it was enough for him, too.
The only lingering trace of doubt came from his partner. “So we’re in this unspoken game with them now,” Skrili concluded. “What’s our next move, then?”
Credo’s answer came with quick confidence. “Our next Special League stop is Realistic Fiction Country,” he declared. “You’ll travel there, and fight your next two teams.”
Skrili’s eyes narrowed.
Credo must have sensed it somehow, or observed her reaction through his means of surveillance. “As you said, Skrili, this is a game. We just have to play it better than them. The time will come,” he assured. “Team Hiroko: I know this isn’t the result we wanted, but hold your heads high. We’ve gained some ground. And we will find Pang Pereo. Great work.”
He signed off, leaving the team to reflect in the middle of the oblivious city.
Phillip crossed his arms in resolution. “I won’t make that mistake again,” he swore. “Don’t let me.”
“We’ll keep you in line,” teased Deon.
“That’s ironic coming from you…”
Holding their TeamTracks ready in case of further sightings, the group began their steady way back towards Hynes Convention Center. Though meetings, interviews, and signings waited within its walls, Deon’s thoughts of their victory intermingled with those of their secret defeat.
They came so close.
‘A game, huh?’
Deon smirked to himself amidst his companions. Failure didn’t taste great, but he liked the sound of that.
Okay Proscious, you made your play, he thought, the convention building falling into view down the street. But these Special League fights are only making us stronger…so you’d better get ready for ours.