Chaos erupted in the camp. After hearing Tyr had been 'recovered', with no elaboration as to by who or how, the teams had all conglomerated. Adventurers, and paladins of no less than three orders. Over a hundred people for one person. And multiple guilds. Hunters, as in the case of Benny and the others, Blue Rose by affiliation, Dynasty, and Iron Tide. All sent here on Alexandros' dime for a reason nobody could understand.

Some would regret ever coming here. The jungle was wild and rife with danger, but something had happened as soon as they'd reached the tower. A great storm had erupted in the jungle. But not a natural one. A foul one, with walls of fog closing in from the border of the astral space. The mists. The kind that drove men man in their own world, surrounding the known expanse of the globe and no attempts to study it or pass through it had been successful.

“Contact! High right!”

“I have contact, low left! Orders!?”

“Contact north! Stop calling out observable directions, we're all in a circle!”

Lina was inundated with reports, opting to flee from base camp to base camp. Mist or fog, in and of itself, was no big deal. These mists were another story. She'd watched Tulips march into the fog to drop a barrier as she'd commanded. It had eaten him alive, warping his body until his buckles popped and left him a groaning sphere of a man, all flesh and no limbs.

“I don't know what to do!” They were a days travel from the exit from the astral space, and all were near the point of buckling under the strain. First was the foreign environment they'd slogged through, losing two adepts on the first day. Next was the elder leshen. They'd gotten lucky, some adventurers passing by and killing it without saying a word. But now? Their luck was at an end. They were not adventurers. Lina was the most veteran member of her unit left alive, by a long shot. Most were lesser nobles who'd bought their way into a knighthood with the church.

She wasn't even supposed to be here, but after repeat failures due to her over-reliance on Willis in the past, this was to be considered a punitive expedition. They'd spun it, the church leadership, that it'd be a 'good training exercise'. What a joke that was, Lina spat blood from a bitten tongue, tearing off her helmet and screaming at the flickering shadows within the fog. Wishing they'd give her something to swing at.

It wasn't a suicide mission, but they had clearly sent 'expendable' personnel into the astral space. The churches had been acting strangely lately, but nobody could guess why. Some didn't care to, and paladins were all about duty over inquisition. They weren't templars. The cardinals and bishops of their pillar would command, and they would jump onto spikes if they'd been promised a reward in the 'afterlife'.

A figure did make itself known, and Lina swung. She wasn't incompetent. She knew that couldn't be the case, no matter what they were saying about her. Her father... The bastard that he was... Lina came from good blood. She had a bright future ahead of her and a bevy of talent. It was just so frustrating to be looked down upon by men in robes who hadn't picked up a blade in their entire lives. All of this frustration, and more, poured out of her. Singularly focused on the solitary robed figure that had foolishly appeared and presented his back to her. A tall man, but swathed in black robes and leathers. A metal mask obscuring his face.

But before she could satisfy herself by pulping it with her level three water magic and a strike of her saber to seal the deal, a snarling orc and two beastkin intercepted her attack. Combining their defense with impressive precision to throw it wide and right. A block of ice forged into the head of an eagle flying off into the mist. Only after a brief moment of shock did she recognize them as new arrivals to their expedition. Before she knew it, Benny and the others surrounded her, weapons bared and ready – though standing still for now.

“You idiot!” Someone yelled. Someone behind her. Based on the robotic intonations that seemed to vibrate the air, it was likely to be the crab man. Apparently he'd been taught to use his magic in order to speak so the rest of them could listen in, not that anyone wanted to... “This is the man we were looking for!” He said. “Tyr! Welcome back!”

“...Er?” The figure turned, joined by two more. All identical in dress except the shape of their mask. One was a happy, smiling face. Jagged and threatening, the happy eyes almost psychotic in their jester-esque curvature. Another was sad, weeping. The third was a flat lipped and emotionless plate of monotone ashy gray. “Do I know you?” Sad face, the first one to arrive, asked.

“Brother Tyr?” Benny asked, frowning. The beastkin sniffed at the air, squinting their eyes and passing confused looked at one another. A third approached, the tall telurian. Pulling a hood from his head to reveal his sharp features and red skin. His mouth became a hard line, iridescent eyes staring at the robed trio. The storm had calmed, for a moment. Happy-face was warding their position and pushing it back. Slowly. But it was still there, and this was no permanent solution.

“Yeah...” Sad-face replied. “That's me... Pretty sure I've never met you before, though...”

“No.” The telurian's frown became harder, as did his eyes. “It's not. Who are you?” His staff broke into three identical components. A flail. He made no aggressive moves, only clutching at the cylinders of his weapon connected by thin chains. Runes aglow with yellow radiance.

“We don't have time for this, fourteen.” Poker-face growled. “We need to get the hell out of here before we get caught in the mist. Helping this lot flee is already cutting it close.”

Sad-face pulled the mask from their head, lowering the hood. Long snow white hair hung down to the waist, revealing a startlingly beautiful woman. So radiant were her features that both the men and women in the now silent formation fell silent. She was tall, for a female. Muscular, too, but it did nothing to detract from her incredible beauty. “What world are you all from?” She asked, repeating herself at their dumb glances. Based on their voices, two of the figures were men, but she was not. Leaving those who had sensed their wholly identical auras in shock. Those who knew who it was supposed to belong to, at least.

“I'm in love...” Benny whispered, lowering his axe with limp hands. Near the point of drooling before Kirk stepped forward and laid a claw against the back of his head. “Thanks, man. I know. Bros before h--”

“World?” She repeated.

Abe shuffled. He was so sure that he'd sensed Tyr, as Jura had. The beastkin had even smelled him, immediately recognizing the scent. And yet here 'he' was. But 'he' was no 'he' at all. “Hjemland.” He cleared his throat. “Large... Flat... Green? Sorry, I'm not sure how to respond. I am aware of multiverse theory but I'd never thought it might be true...”

Happy face looked towards poker face. Or rather. One Tyr looked towards another. To see three of them in the same place was quite jarring for those that had spent any amount of time with him. “There are flat worlds?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Poker face shrugged. “Tribals, probably. Better to minimize contact.” He turned toward Abe. “If you know.... Uh... Us? Asking too many questions will get the us that you know killed. It is dangerous, and we aren't supposed to reveal ourselves like this. We are not Tyr. Just as you are not Yana, Girshan, Abe, or Benny, or Lina, or... I'll be honest with you. I've never seen a talking crab before. Kinda makes me curious to see what your world is like, though. Is your Tyr... Dead by chance?”

Abe shook his head. “Not as far as we know.” He was as shocked as the others, but astral spaces and the various planes could give way to bizarre illusions or very real phenomena. Tiyanaks existed as well. Shape changers. He'd never seen any so advanced as this, and doubted they were any of the various monsters that stole faces.

“That's too bad.” Poker-face's shoulders sagged. “Seems like an interesting place.”

Yana squinted her eyes, alternating her gazes between all three of them. She felt like her brain was about to explode. Even the woman was like a picture perfect representation of Tyr, just (obviously) more feminine. Girshan sighed, shaking his head as if to clear the thoughts cluttering it. “How is this possible?”

“Like he said.” The woman jerked her head toward the poker faced mask. Happy face was still holding back the fog, hands outstretched and wreathed in golden energy. No mana could be felt from the spell. Leaving the mages accompanying the group in a state of confusion, trying to understand what force could actually manipulate the fog. “Questions bad. You are not my wives.” She said, looking toward the women. “Or my husband.” She winked at Girshan flirtatiously. Though, underneath it all, there was a great deal of sadness as well. “It was nice seeing you again, Girshan. Even if it's not you. Now, it's time for you all to run.”

“But--”

“Run.” She repeated. The fog became a swirling mass of violet lightning, crashing against the wards of the man holding them back. His eyes were bleeding from the strain, and Poker-face pulled a tremendously large weapon from thin air. A multi-barreled contraption of steel that began to whir and spin, spitting a tongue of flame into the mist, followed by the pained shrieks of whatever lay beyond the veil.

Lina snapped to first, followed by the others. Figures were pressing against the wall of fog, dark silhouettes cavorting within. Some were cut down by the hail of projectiles tracing through the air, but they were legion. Hundreds of them, filling the visible edge of the wall with dark and twisted shapes. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea to me!”

–

“What in the world...” Tyr had a sour look on his face. Not visible beneath his mask. He'd busied himself with hunting down monsters and it hadn't been hard to find targets. They came from everywhere, charging him down and allowing him to collect their loot with abandon. Enjoying the free flowing comfort of his new armor. His sword was still sharp, but it wasn't the same as before. It really wasn't much of a sword, more like a bladed cleaver with no tip. Worse, he noticed that it was weaker and he had trouble making it change form. What took a single blow to separate neck from head now took two on the weaker monsters, and three for the others.

With his new spell, blur, courtesy of Girshan – it was almost too easy. Never before had he experienced such a convenient situation as monsters running towards him from all directions. Within two hours, he'd killed hundreds of the things, filling one dimensional ring with their hides, meat, cores, and other loot before being forced to switch to another.

But that wasn't a problem for him, obviously. The problem was that the field ahead of him was now occupied by a horde of creatures. Raptids ran beside apes, velds and bloodhounds underfoot. Larger therapods and herd animals that typically weren't aggressive filling the spaces between. Some were trampled, but they weren't fighting. They were running. Only when he'd been passed by the first wider stretch of the horde did he get a better look at the storm on the horizon. Each and every one of them were running for their lives from whatever it was, and it certainly didn't look natural.

Previously, he'd have been happy. His future living as a pauper had to be over. Quests completed at record speed, rings full of loot, he was rich! Except for the fact that they were all heading in the same direction. A swarm of monsters that ignored the promise of delectable human flesh. All headed for the exit. And into human occupied territory. Normally, he wouldn't be so concerned. The defenses there had been so impressive, manned by so many people beyond the granite barrier.

It wasn't as if he cared much for the guards there, but that didn't mean they deserved to die, and this would reflect poorly on his record. There was satisfaction if could. Tyr didn't much care about the 'should' part of things, in most situations. Occupying the position of power to claim domination of the 'could' was so intoxicating. He could kill them, but he wouldn't. Or, in this case, he could stop this monster horde. Or he wouldn't. Except there wasn't much point in refusing to try his best to stop it if everyone was dead. He could, maybe, do it. But there was the fact was that he couldn't die, so why wouldn't he? It was something Tyr felt many would find confusing, but he didn't. This was life, and he was the only master of his own.

To stand atop a body of corpses and stare down at those he'd saved because he could was enough to prod at the ego and vanity buried deepest at the core of who he was.

Blur helped. It flagged at his mana, but a few potions and two of the pills he'd chosen to take from the vault helped quite a bit. Mana exploded within him, and his enhanced metabolism recovered quickly from the negative side effect. Like the most powerful stimulant he'd ever laid his tongue on. Far more potent than the coffee or tea he'd enjoyed in the past. With none of the jitters.

He exploded into action, outpacing the horde rather easily and planted himself before the portal. If not for everyone else, then to ensure he wasn't blamed for inaction when there were others in this space out looking for him.

“White Wolf, this is relay station three. We have a space wide evacuation order in effect, all relay stations are shutting down and activating dimensional bridges. How close are you to the exit? Over.”

“Right in front of it.” He replied. Forgoing the 'over'. It seemed so pointless to begin with, and Tyr had begun to expand his senses to their maximum in anticipation for the greatest reaping he'd ever done. He'd regret killing the apes in particular, due to their level of intelligence, but he was so... Hungry? Killing them was unfortunate, but if choosing between allowing them into his own domain to do as they'd please was well beyond his capacity for empathy. They'd all 'drop' something. Something he could use, or profit from. Something about the duality of man, but he didn't see an ounce of hypocrisy in this decision.

“He's supposed to say over!” A young voice cried. Benson, maybe. These were the same people Tyr had spoken with only half a day earlier. “It's protocol!”

“Shut the hell up, Benson. He's a damn silver ranker!” The adult voice on the other end took a deep breath. “Our orders are to have everyone commanded to evacuate as soon as possible. Please leave the astral zone immediately. Over.”

“Can't do that.” Tyr said sternly. “Er... Over.”

“Reason? Over.”

“There's a whole horde of loot headed my way. Call it twenty four rounds. Over.”

There was a pause before the voice replied in a grim tone. Adventurers were adventurers, and that couldn't be changed. They knew was was happening. To him, the 'commo' on the other line, the white wolf was merely making excuses. This was a true hero who drew a line in the sand and refused to budge from his position. To defend the astral space at all costs to protect the lives of those beyond. Something Tyr, himself, hadn't considered as anything but an added benefit. “Acknowledged. Thank you, sir. Over.” The voice replied, before the communication runes on his badge all went dim.

Tyr didn't understand what the 'thank you' was all about, but he was ready for them. Or at least, he thought he was. Looking forward to the look on Daito's face when he paid his 'debt' to the Hunter's guild and lived the rest of his life, however long that might be, living on their tab. With this much loot, he could do anything. And they couldn't say a damn thing about it.