“You're back? Why? What...” Rich shut his mouth. “Rotgoriel thought you were gone forever. What changed?”

“Is this really the best time for this?” Cutter said, and Rich looked over, taking stock of the others in the wide corridor.

Greg and Pat were there, still wearing their gear, though it was obvious they'd been through the wringer. Pat was muttering, healing himself up from his mad dash out of the dungeon.

Cutter stood behind them, his concealing cloak and wraps in tatters, and the bandolier of knives on his chest half-empty.

And off to one side, leaning against the wall, was the fur-clad form of LivingDeadGrrl. “Yo,” she said, half-waving. “Greyboy's right. We're short on time for drama if Agnez is right.”

Agnezsharron bristled. “It is not drama. It is a valid question. And we must leave this tomb quickly, then return with Geebo's egg as fast as we can. I do not understand why, but he is vital to our success.”

“Well, we saved us all a trip then,” Rich said, looking to Midian. “Please tell me it's safe.”

“It is,” she said, reaching into her robes and pulling out the lump of fleshy matter that was Geebo.

“How...” Agnezsharron shook her head.

“How did you know we needed the egg?” Rich asked. “For our part we followed a hunch, and it led us here.”

“This is what happens when you have obscenely good luck and fate scores,” Pat said. “Seriously, the timing is—”

The world quivered.

They fell silent, and Rich did, too. This felt horrible. It was as if every atom in his body had stopped spinning for a second, then snapped back into motion.

“What was that?” Greg asked. “It was like an earthquake in my bones, or a stroke, or something. Tell me that wasn't anything big.”

“The elder god is ripping into Konol as we speak. It could be that,” Rich said. “Let's move and talk.”

“Or it could be that we brought something very like a dragon's egg into a dragon's dream,” Agnezsharron pointed out. “This is a thing that must not be done. Too many dreams in too little space overwhelms the hatchlings. It can be fatal to the unborn if done recklessly.”

A suspicion rose in Rich's mind. He voiced it as they walked. “Those hatchlings who died, that event that kicked this whole thing off. Seventeen at once... could improper egg storage be the cause of all of this?”

“It is possible,” Agnezsharron said. “I know that several hundred eggs have been removed since players first came to our world. Most of these were by the masked ones, in the last few years. It is entirely possible that someone in their guild was not told to keep a batch properly separated.”

“Listen to me. Don't respond,” Cutter's voice whispered in his ear, and Rich paused mid-step.

“It's my theory that this isn't the Thing in Yellow,” Midian said. “This is someone else, and your ancestors are just using it as an excuse to end the age.”

“Legion is playing you,” Cutter continued, and Rich started walking again, ignored by the others. “There is no such thing as Analog. There is no shadowy agency that kidnapped you. That was him all along.”

“To what purpose?” Rich asked Midian, but shifted his gaze to Cutter, just for a split-second.

Midian frowned at him. “You know more than I do. You got into the core chamber; you tell me.”

“To stand here right now. To be here at the end of this sordid little invasion masquerading as a game and keep it going. Those devices he gave you? One of them was rigged. He's taken over one of your friends and is riding him like a god damned pony.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“No, that's about the size of it,” Rich said, looking back to Midian. “They're trying to save Konol by ending the age, which will disengage this world from ours. And probably do something horrible to everyone here at the time.” He shifted his gaze back to Cutter, very quickly. “The problem is I'm not entirely certain what to do about it.”

“When I ask you to, I need you to log off. Help me in the real world,” Cutter whispered. “This is for all the marbles. If you don't, I don't know what that crazy machine is going to do, but I guarantee it'll be bad.”

“I am uncertain as well,” Agnezsharron spoke. “But we shall need Geebo for it. The egg of those who made the Mother must be him. That was what So Dam Long spoke of.”

“So Dam Long? You went back to him?” Rich asked, surprised.

“I needed answers, and it was clear that he was holding back before. Fortunately, we were able to work out a trade. My villagers have become quite good at brewing strong alcohol over this last year. I delivered enough to satisfy his thirst, and he confessed enough of the truth that between that and my dreaming I was able to find a way to the future. Perhaps. If I am interpreting it correctly.”

There was an uncertainty in her tone that Rich had never heard before. Despite her seeming confidence, this had rattled her. Big things were happening, dragon-related things, and the future was far from certain.

“Dreams?” Midian asked. “You're a Shaman. Did dream visions told you how to solve this?”

“Yes. No. Perhaps.” Agnezsharron growled. “It is all contextual. I must find the proper place to interpret the clues that I have been given, the images and signs that show a path ahead. The world itself fears what is to come, what is happening now. Nature shall not recover from it for a very long time.”

Rich paused as they drew near to the central chamber. “This is a long shot, but did WorldwarpR leave you any waystones to bypass the fighting?”

“One,” Pat said, holding it up. “He had more, but he lost them early on in the battle.”

“So, the bad guys could have them,” Rich frowned. “Oh shit. They could be up there right now, waiting for us.”

“Yeah. Which is why I didn't bring it up before this,” Pat said. “Six of us are gonna have to take the hard way up, but whoever goes through on the stone needs to be ready for a hell of a fight.”

“Or they need to be very good at stealth,” Cutter said, stretching out his hand. “Put me in, coach. From what I've seen of the dungeon run I wouldn't be much help in the earlier parts anyway.”

And this lets you pull off whatever you're planning without us watching, Rich thought to himself.

He trusted Cutter only a bit. But at this stage, it seemed better to keep him away from the rest of the party. “That's a sound plan. Do it,” he told Pat.

Cutter waystoned out, and Rich turned his attention to the rest of the party. “If you can fly, do it for this. If you can't, get on my back. Follow my lead and conserve energy for the hard stuff. Questions?”

“Nah. We've seen Vae and Warper's stream on this,” Greg said, as he and Pat mounted up on Rich's back. “Not looking forward to those thunder dragons, but the rest of this shouldn't be too bad.”

“Gonna concur on that. You've got a band of badasses this time around,” LivingDeadGrrl grinned from behind her skull mask. “Should be some good experience.”

And it was.

Now that they knew what to expect and had a full party that could mostly fly under their own power, the fights weren't too terrible. And Agnezsharron was a force unto herself, easily outflying one of the thunder dragons while the rest of the group took out the other, then mopped up the last one.

The fire pheasants were the worst part, but with two healers everyone survived.

But as that part ended, and the lake began to materialize on the floor of the trigram chamber, Pat leaned in and shouted “Cutter just whispered me! The Warmers just showed up! They're fighting the Emperors right now.”

“Emperors? Not Emperor?” Rich asked, as he strafed the steam goat before it could fully materialize.

“He said what he said! There was definitely a plural there!” Pat shouted, ducking a cannonball that nearly took off his miter.

They got their answer when they warped in, and the metal and porcelain fields lay broken; the lacquered wooden trees burned with green flames, and panicked flesh-and-blood peasants ran for their lives.

Phalanxes of terracotta figures, all of them fleshless copies of the Emperor, leaped through the air like flocks of birds, their legs pumping as they leaped, ring-sabers and guan daos and more esoteric weapons flashing as they fought four towering figures.

Towering figures that were familiar and not in a good way.

They wore tattered yellow robes and huge copper masks upon bodies that were composed of writhing worms the size of giant anacondas, knitted together in a frame that mocked the notion of humanity, but their names were visible above their fifty-foot tall forms.

Boombabe.

Tankitaway.

Doctorhealgood.

Captainstabyn.

“And so, it ends as it begins,” Rich said, feeling a rage that wasn't his own rise, just as Cutter whispered in his ear again.

“Now. Log out!”

He didn't exactly trust Cutter.

But if Legion had taken one of his friends, then that couldn't be ignored.

And beyond that, it wasn't his vengeance to take. These four were Rotgoriel's quest, not his. He couldn't screw his brother out of this chance to sate his rage.

Before he could second-guess himself, he trusted his gut and logged out.

Rotgoriel could handle things from here. He had to trust his brother in this, if nothing else.

“I hope you appreciate this, Rotty. Good luck,” he whispered and left the world.