Crony N. Newsman strolled through the darkened, wrecked office once belong to his boss. He couldn’t believe his windfall. Orwell Mehest utterly decimated the headquarter of Grand Empire Daily, leaving only a dingy consultation center standing. Thankfully, Grand Empire Daily were multinational conglomerate. Main branch’s destruction hurt their pocket immensely, but situations remained salvageable. Crony even found himself promoted right to the CEO as Orwell Mehest’s army chopped the corporate ladder.

Lucky man, he was.

Life looked good. Oh, the attack on Venistalis would be the sensation. Crony already imagined Solomek Grandy’s offering to increase propagandas. The sympathy point alone worth the loss of HQ.

“I sense your emotion, Mr. Newsman. I find your lack of empathy disturbing.”

Crony jerked. Someone was in here. Newsman felt a fog cleared as the voice spoke.

A man, clouded by a foggy mist, sat behind a crack and bloody desk. His red visor glinted in the lightless room.

Newsman’s animal instinct yelled flee. That mysterious was above his league.

He turned around.

Creek…

The door swung shut before Crony took a step by command of an invisible hand. He spooked. A ghost shutting a door in his face was a new and unwelcome experience. Crony wasn’t afraid of the dark. Hell, their industry thrived by keeping the mass inside manufactured darkness. This was different. This creature observing him felt personal.

“Who are you?” Crony stumbled to the door. No hope. An invisible forced held it shut. “What do you want with me?”

The darkness cocked his head.

“I glimpsed your elation in that newsroom, Mr. Newsman. How powerful did you feel? Your voice alone persuade million to believe anything, turning truth to lies with a mere flip of a narrative. You must feel untouchable.”

“No, I don’t feel all-powerful,” Newsman refuted.

“Mr. Newsman.” the shadow sounded annoyed. “Don’t lie. You enjoy every single second, don’t you? Even Solomek needs the almighty media — the voice of the people. Eh, more like voice of the overlord funding you.”

Newsman felt stripped.

“Humanity, for all their gifts, seems to lower their IQ in a herd. Convinces 6 of 10, and you flip any murderers into war heroes. Spins a tearjerker and a peaceful protestor transform into a terrorist. Burry the truth with mud of propaganda, and a band of violent killers metamorphose into activists fight for racial equality.”

Anger. Newsman sensed. Cold fury so powerful it shook the room vibrated from that man.

“Don’t you think those shackles must be removed?”

Newsman couldn’t answer honestly without killing himself, but he tried.

“The people need a voice.”

“You mean the ‘right’ people,” Samadi surmised. “Propaganda and spin. Predictable responses, hence I deem the opposite of lies as truth. You agree, Mr. Newsman. Isn’t it time we mortalized the institution of lies?”

An invisible force pinned Newsman to the wall.

“W-What are you…”

“No need to worry, Crony N. Newsman.” The visor glowed crimson. “I need you alive. You won’t remember this meeting, but from today, you are my pawn to demolish the gatekeeper of information. Time for the attention glutton to diet.”

…

‘… Emperor Solomek Grandy expressed his utmost regret and sympathy to citizen of Venistalis who survived Orwell Mehest’s terrorism. This morning the 5 S-rank general of Grand Empire declared Samael Wayward, Orwell Mehest and Arden Christy as public enemy number 1, 2 and 3. I have to express gratitude for the brave royal mages and royal knight fighting for our freedom.’

‘You are in tears’

‘Yes, who else do we have to thank for the liberation of our beautiful capital. I can hardly contain my excitement for Captain Chamomile’s promotion. Isn’t she so beautiful?’

‘Yes, as expect from the hero who saved us all. She did an amazing job to fix Stuart Hex’s alarming oversight.’

‘You aren’t so fond of the former Captain.’

‘Sasha, the previous Captains are disasters. Wayward turns traitor and Stuart is a failure. We need a massive restructure. We also need to thank Shyme Enma for her support and cooperation. It is a shame former Vice-Captain Kruger turned down his promotion and resign. I believe he can't take his friend’s betrayal and his failure in the incident.’

‘You must sympathize with his lost, but to approach Captain Chamomile’s estate to vent his frustration is not gentlemanly.’

‘Give him time, I believe he will eventually come around’

‘Sasha, Josh, what about those mysterious rumors? That group of people in mask united the Liberator terrorist and the adventurers volunteer to defeat Orwell’s army. Random sources even claim one of these mystery men dual Orwell Mehest one-on-one and won.’

‘Erik… that is the most ridiculous rumors. A bunch of no names accomplish the impossible and saved the entire Venistalis only to disappear? Come on, man! Neither the Grand Empire’s representative or our investigative team on the ground confirms their existence. You are falling for the Liberator’s propaganda, my friend.’

…

Madam Marmel shut the radio.

“Why?” Marmel asked Rem sitting on the sofa across her. “You got Newsman under your thumb. You can spin this any way you want.”

Rem shrugged.

“I don’t have a right to shape public opinion. No one should. Yes, I can make the news praise me as heroes, but that is a short-term play. What I want is to destroy the media?”

“What? Why?”

“The power to shape the reality of an impressionable public is irritating. Media is an instrument to keep the regime’s herd enthralled. For humanity's freedom, it must be forever broken, even for us. Let them lies egregiously. Let their falsehood become lethal to their adherent. When the faith in them is broken, people will begin maturing.”

Madam Marmel signed.

“But we still need a voice.”

Rem handed her a piece of paper.

“Let me introduce an Earthling’s invention call the internet.”

…

Melody and Luxinna approached their newest ride.

“Damn,” Luxinna groaned. “Why does Scathach got recalled? She should just run after battling Wayward and wait for us to beat Orwell.”

Melody groaned.

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

“It would raise too much question now that Cytortia is presumed dead. We know the day must come for Scathach and us to part. She is too loyal to the system we are opposing. In all opinion, she accepting the Seven Continental Alliance’s request to debrief and help them capture Wayward is the best ending.”

“But Rem don’t have to return the Black Mercy by mail!”

“Agree,” Melody’s face soured. “For the man who has no qualm brain-jacking people, Rem is too moral.”

A healthy Cytortia opened the door of a white family-van. The former goddess woke from her coma with a brief weakness, but her recovery was unnatural.

“It calls manners! I know this is not as good as the Black Mercy, but our new ride has a bathroom, a workshop and a gym. Pocket dimension ride is expensive and we should be thankful the Madam gifted us one.”

“Who is driving?”

Cytortia raised her hand.

“Me, and her new name is Little Hope.”

Luxinna and Mel glanced sourly at each other.

…

Hikma De Darwin stood outside the Royal Palace. He waited for her. Rem warned he won’t like this meeting, but Hikma must ensure her safety.

And came out with her entourage.

Princess Velnia looked as dashing as always, but dark rings beneath her eyes spoke of tireless nights crying. Her dress was less gaudy than usual, unsurprising because the invasion didn’t bode well for denizens of wardrobes. The toll of defeat hung over Mercia, weighing her footsteps. Meanwhile, Albert Starlight recovered from the massive trauma of the Capital of the Dead with semblances of pride. The squadron of knights proudly followed them doggedly.

There on the ruined Palace’s step, the Paladin of Dawn and the Princess of Starland reunited.

“You…” Mercia raised her eye-brows.

The boy wore an unfamiliar costume — a black Earthling business suit with a white necktie and a cane. It was Rem’s designate dress-code for a knight in a social gathering fully endorse by the Congress of Hope. Old Grandpa Lochwain happily supplied the uniform which Cytortia gleefully modified to ridiculously combat worthiness.

“What with those clothes?” Albert gaped.

“Hello, Lord Starling,” Hikma addressed the entourage. “This is a dress-code. An employment benefit from a kind lady mentoring me.”

Starling looked at the suit with jealousy. Which job gave a uniform that dashing?

“It looks very good on you,” Velnia complimented.

“Fucking Gigolo,” Mercia whispered, and the knights snorted.

Hikma sighed.

“Oh, I wish,” Hikma channeled some of Rem’s suaveness. “My new mistress is quite a taskmaster. This month is horrific. A tough research followed by a critical miscalculation and terrible weather. Two of my friends called sick. Then a mountain of pests nearly overran our office. Nearly darn killed me. My close friend needed to sell her prized asset to buy us funds, but thankfully, we pulled through and even made a killing.”

In the distance, Hikma saw several children playing. One boy played a flying knight, waving a cane in combat against a winged mage who wanted the city’s destruction.

“Yes.” Hikma wanted to burn that pride into his hippocampus. “The profit is sweet indeed.”

“So, you graduate from a relic collector to a banker,” a knight sneered.

“Oh, I wish,” Hikma shrugged. “The volume of information our co-leader bought three-days ago will take a week to sort and catalogue. Free time appears scarcely in my occupation, so I pick this moment to ensure my friend is okay.”

“You must be so happy,” Mercia sneered.

Velnia raised her hand.

“Look, Hikma, I am sorry about Mercia…”

“It isn’t important,” Hikma tossed the issue aside. “I forgive them. That grudge isn’t worth holding.”

Albright blinked. Forgiveness was that easy?

Albright wouldn’t need to worry. Hikma holding grudge on Mercia was like blaming water for wetting his hand. It took too much energy with too insignificant pay-off.

“But I want to know whether you are okay, Velnia,” Hikma’s voice was gentle. “The experience with Lord Mehest must be hard on you.”

Princess Velnia was silent.

The world stood still.

“Hikma, you are weak, right?”

Hikma sighed.

“Everyone is weak once, Princess.”

The Princess smiled.

“What do you think about power?”

Power.

Hikma recalled his duty.

“Power is a dangerous tool. On the wrong hand, it can bring disaster, but…”

Velnia got all the confirmation she needed.

“I believe so. That why we must keep it from people's reach!”

“Let me finish,” Hikma said. “Power is dangerous, but it can be channeled for good.”

That triggered Velnia.

“How? Hikma, look around us,” she gestured to the ruin. “Power got into Lord Mehest’s mind and he transformed into a monster. How can’t you see it must be regulated? It turns people evil!”

Hikma sensed something disastrous bordering the horizon.

“Power must be regulated?”

“Yes, I just contact grandfather last week and he agreed. We must stop power from getting out of hand! The Seven Continental Alliance already drafts a coalition began increase regulation on magic academy and spell circulation. Hikma, I need your help with this project.”

Oh fuck.

“You are tightening the Mandatory Recruitment Order!?” Hikma barely contained his horror. “Are you crazy?”

“You dare insult the Princess?”

Hikma ignored Mercia, utterly terrified at what Velnia might start.

“Do you realize the consequence of that action?”

“Yes,” Velnia was unshakable. “Without power poisoning everyone's mind, people can come to the table and peace will be achieved”

Hikma breathed calmly.

“How can people talk when you confiscate their bargaining chip?”

“They don’t have to be afraid and they don’t need leverage.”

“They will be afraid, Velnia. An almighty regime of the most powerful countries on Phantasia taking power from average citizen who can barely protect themselves. I can’t name anything more terrifying than that.”

“They don’t need that poison. They are happier without it.”

“How about you?” Hikma spoke. “Don’t you realize an insanity of a monolithic confiscator deciding for the entire population? You said yourself. Power corrupted Mehest. What about you?”

For once, doubt crept into Velnia.

“Shut up!” Mercia screamed at Hikma. She tried to attack Hikma, but a practitioner of the 2nd Ray was invincible against such sloppy lunges. Hikma redirected her hand in swift shifted. Velnia’s face nearly met the stairs, if not for Hikma grabbing her by the collar.

“Clumsy, unprecise, hopelessly open,” Hikma barely believed Mercia’s pitiful display. “Who train you?”

“Shut up! Let me go!”

“You want to face plant on the tarmac so badly?” Hikma pulled Mercia to safety. “Velnia, removing power doesn’t change human nature. Power only amplifies your influence. Ice-magic never mind-controlled Orwell Mehest to nuke Venistalis. It simply gave Orwell a method to enforce his wrath. People found a path to what they desire. Your effort to remove any little power available will only cause desperation. I know it is terrifying, but accepting chaos is a part of life.”

Velnia was in tears.

“Why? I don’t get it? I am doing this to protect the powerless! People like you! You should be on my side. Why are you so adamantly against it?”

“Because I don’t want to be protected forever,” Hikma replied. “It is the height of condescension to assume everyone but you require absolute babysitting.”

“I can’t believe this? You are supposed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend, Velnia. And my duty as a friend is stopping you from dooming your people to the slaughterhouse. I can’t and won’t stand for this, Velnia.”

Velnia bit her lips in tears. It was then Albright intervened.

“You know you spoke against a Princess, right, boy? What can your intervention do against the Seven Continental Alliance?”

Hikma’s eyes stared, undeterred.

“The last man calling my bluff eloped with lady luck to survive. I have more pressing enemy than a one-third Alliance member, Lord Starling.”

“You-“

Ahem!

“Velnia, your ride is ready,” Shyme Enma appeared, stopping the heated conversation.

Hikma took that opportunity to leave, but the Fox-girl grabbed him by the sleeve.

Hikma sighed.

“What do you want with me, Mrs. Enma?”

“Do you have some time?”

…

The two sat by the morose Earth-quarter's fountain, watching hopeful street children playing hero.

“Do you believe they are real?” Shyme watched the children’s faux capes fluttered.

“The mask men who saved this place? Maybe.”

“They are,” Enma Shyme confirmed. “One of them save my life.”

Said savior nodded at the ignorant girl.

“You sound grateful, but isn’t Grand Empire trying to ignore their accomplishment.”

Shyme snorted.

“Solomek Grandy is an asshole. If I am in charge, I will award them any medal they pick. That helpless coward Velnia is worst. I can’t believe my family doesn’t boot Starland to the trash heap of history yet.”

Hikma chuckled at Shyme’s rant.

“Power makes people evil? Fucking hilarious. The reason we survive because his powers defeated Mehest. That ungrateful bitch witness that duel and has a nerve to ignore his generosity. That idiotic, immature daughter of a w—”

“Wow, wow, calm down. I do not know those mask men mean that much to you. How can you be so angry?”

Shyme looked at the sky.

“Because he believes I deserve to be saved.”

Hikma remained silent.

“I will let you in on a secret. I know I am a bad person. People claim I have a lot of friends. But aside from Cytortia and my butler, they are only kissing at Enma’s authority. My parents are secretive. My clan… they are family, but living with them is tough. My only positive are money, [Divine Core] and ability to drive my employees half to death.”

Shyme glanced to the floor, demoralized in a rare moment of honesty.

“I understand the world will be a happier place without me. Yet, that mysterious man saved me, an Enma, asking nothing in return. He shouldn’t bother, but he somehow believes I am worth it.”

“You admire him.”

“Yes,” Shyme looked at the sky. “Who wouldn’t? Wherever he is, I want to say… thank you.”

Hikma couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because the way you talk to Albright reminds me of him. That is my remaining free time. It has been nice chatting with you. I hope we meet again.”

“It is a pleasure meeting you, Shyme”

“Me too, Mr…”

“Darwin. Hikma De Darwin”

"Thank you, Hikma."

Shyme Enma took off and faded to the crowd.

“Quite pleasant fellow when she drops her vanity,” Rem spoke as he stopped concealing his presence. “My condolences. The break must be hard.”

Hikma rose. His eyes quivered, resolving his heart for an inevitable war against his first crush.

“I have too.”

“I know. The greatest burden we bare is picking between our principle and our desire. The Congress is convening, Hikma. Satholia arranged our new mission.”

The hero rose. The boy enamored to a Princess died, cementing the birth of a defender of life.

“Where and what?”

“The Isle of Knowledge discovered a lab. Familiar bastards want a piece, but our almighty leader declares it is a trap.”

“Sound tough. Let go.”

The Capital of the Dead was over, but a new battle dawned on the horizon.