Tired, hungry, and bound, Malcolm walked with the others under a setting sun. The exit lay just a mile out before them, a long line of gray broken by a big square opening. Beyond that line they could all see skyscrapers, their big glass shapes overlapping each other to consume the whole horizon in a glittering orange reflection.

After what felt like so long in the wild it was something of a dull shock to see such a blatant sign of civilization, but Malcolm couldn't find it in himself to care. He didn't care about the thought of food or shelter or even the friends he knew waited for him on the other side of this challenge. The only thing he cared about was finding the mistake in the mess that had become of his mind.

What had gone wrong?

Should he not have listened to Stretch and the others when they made their escape from Jahna and their captors-turned-victims? He could have gone for the tags, or at the very least gotten the keys to the cuffs that even now blocked them from using their Spirit energy. With no powers the whole group had been forced to stick together and hide from whatever monsters they came across rather than fight them, making it impossible to get any new tags to replace their old ones. That wagon has been right there. Malcolm knew he could have reached it.

But then what? Jahna would have spotted him, and even had he been able to use his Trick he had no delusions that he could have defended himself against her. Malcolm recalled her dark figure, long arms raised like those of a conductor and fingers pulling at the air. He recalled the men turned instantly into ragdolls, arms and legs bending unnaturally, bones snapping and screams joining each other in a spine-tingling chorus. Most of all he recalled the utter boredom on Janna's face, the lack of any effort or interest, as if in dealing so much death and suffering she were merely in the middle of completing some chore.

No, Malcom decided. Choosing to run from that at the first opportunity hadn't been a mistake after all.

What about the night before then? Stretch had convinced him to camp, to rest from their fight against Leandra and her group. They'd been high on their victory, overconfident, practically begging to get ambushed. Malcolm should have been more cautious, should have been attentive to their surroundings.

Except Din's group, those Rogue Magicians, had a man who could block their Spirit powers as well as the Hardcuffs that now bound them. Not to mention that the group which had ambushed them did so with a huge advantage in numbers. Even had Malcom seen them coming, the chase would likely not have been a long one, and what battle resulted from it even less so.

Then the mistake had been to spring Leandra's trap with the pyramphibian. Had he and Stretch not hooked themselves on that line, they wouldn't have... Wouldn't have what? Wouldn't have spent last night in the Sanctuary still? How likely was it that they could've found a pair of matching tags if not by fighting Leandra's team? Maybe they could have, but maybe not; at that point it seemed to Malcolm that the hypothetical got too unwieldy to be useful.

So then... had there been no mistake? Malcolm dreaded to think so, and the more convinced he became of it the more he felt a pressure in his chest, a tightening in his lungs that threatened to close his throat.

The feeling was too familiar: shame.

Shame because if they hadn't messed up, that meant even their best hadn't been good enough. Shame because for all his training and experience, it didn't mean anything when put up against the real players of this world. Shame because for a moment he'd actually thought that these things weren't true, that he might be capable of great things, that he wasn't someone who could be ignored or forgotten.

Basically, he'd been daydreaming like some little kid. But this isn't a dream, Malcolm thought bitterly. This is reality.

"You alright, man?" Stretch asked. The man was lumbering next to him, sighing lightly with each step. Penny was much the same as she walked ahead of them, her and the other ten escapees. With no Spirit their trek had been done au naturale, and the soles of all their feet had taken on a sore throb after a whole day of marching. "We're almost there."

"I'm fine," Malcolm said, the response automatic, face settling itself back behind a stoic mask. There was nothing more pathetic than someone who couldn't accept their own losses.

"Today kinda sucked," Stretch grumbled. "I just hope Jay and Red had better luck, 'cause if they didn't our whole team's pretty much screwed."

"There's people by the big door," Ebi said. She stuck close to Malcolm during their exodus and seemed to have gauged his mood because she'd stayed pretty quiet all throughout it. Malcolm thought she might have also just been the silent type. Either way, the fact she'd broken her silence made everyone else narrow their eyes in the direction she'd pointed. "There's a lot of people."

Figures. Malcolm breathed hard through his nose, and he heard Stretch do the same beside him. Still, none of them slowed. The idea of other teams lying in wait by the exit had been one they'd all considered, but it was only important so long as they still had tags to defend. They didn't now, so it stood to reason that whoever prepared to block their way out would stand aside to let them pass as soon as that became clear.

Except as they neared Malcolm saw along with the others that those who waited were not there to ambush anyone. In fact, most of them were standing around, fidgeting in place and staring at the newcomers with expectant eyes, as if under the constraints of some uneasy truce. They also kept to one side of the great opening in the wall, giving a wide berth to a decidedly smaller group standing and sitting across from them.

And in this smaller group was Jason, along with Red and what looked like another team of greenkin. They spotted Malcolm almost as soon as he spotted them, and as they did Malcolm felt the sudden, irrational desire to turn back and run the other way. Jason had his sword propped on his shoulder, looking like someone ready to go back home from a picnic, and Red was grinning over at them while sitting on what looked like the unconscious body of some other Magician.

"Mal, Stretch! Over here!" Jason called. Pulled to him almost as if by gravity the two did just that, Malcolm feeling everyone's eyes on him all the while. "There you guys are."

"Who the heck is this?" Stretch asked, glancing at the Magician whose back Red had turned into a cushion.

Red scratched the back of his head and looked down at the Magician he sat on, a tough, burly-looking man whose face looked as bulbous as it now was asleep. He then shrugged. "I dunno, some dude. He and his buddies came at us when we got here, but after we beat 'em up they gave up. You can see 'em standing over there still."

He pointed at the larger group, and Malcolm saw among them six people who looked away and pretended not to have been staring. All of them looked bruised and battered, and Malcolm felt a little bad for them. It seemed he and Stretch hadn't been the only ones with rotten luck that day.

Stretch raised his eyes to look at the greenkin beside Jason. "What about you guys?"

One of them, a pale white woman with bright red eyes, reached out a hand. "Serena Dios, at your service," she said, and her smile revealed a set of fangs just as long as her sharp nails. "And I suppose I should thank you. Looks like you've brought something that belongs to me."

Shaking her hand gingerly, Stretch raised a brow. "We did?"

"She means me," Ebi said.

Malcolm nearly jumped out of his shoes, realizing only now that Ebi had followed them to Jason and the others. Everyone else in their gang of escapees had gone to the larger group—apparently some had friends there waiting for them just as he and Stretch had, Penny included.

"Looks like you had a rough time," Serena said.

Ebi shrugged, face betraying no sign of relief or even concern at the memory of that morning's events. "It wasn't too bad."

"Are you sure?" asked a dryad, her hair long and made of yellow flowers. "You guys came here looking like some kinda chain gang."

Serena sighed. "Blossom, if the girl says she's fine then she's fine."

"Friend Ebi is the strongest of us," agreed a large, orange man standing behind them. Long-haired and muscular, he wore only a sort of fur skirt that to Malcolm's mild embarrassment left very little to the imagination. "There is no one here who could kill her."

"I don't know about that," Serena said, bending down and taking Ebi's bound hands. She examined the Hardcuffs around the snake girl's wrists with interest. "Whoever put these on you must've been something special."

"Not really," Ebi said. "I just got surprised. The other one was special, though."

"The other one?"

"One of the League Magicians," Malcolm said, feeling a scowl slip into his face. "She... Well, she took care of the people who did this. And left us without tags while she did."

Jason gave him a long, measuring look. It seemed to Malcolm that the older Ranger noticed their state for the first time, their dark-rimmed eyes and unkempt hair, the depth of their slouch, the way they remained out of breath despite now standing in place. Malcolm cringed at his own image reflected in his brother's eyes.

But Jason just smiled softly. "It's a good thing we waited, then. They wouldn't have let us come back out if we went in and didn't see you there already." He thumbed over to one of the tourney staff, a woman standing by the giant exit and staring forward with a rather bored expression. "She's the one who'll take our tags. C'mon, let's give them to her before the time runs out."

Malcolm shook his head. "I just told you, Jay, we don't have any to give."

Jason's smile curled up. "What do you think, Red?"

Turning to the other boy, Malcolm saw that Red shared Jason's sly grin. "I think I can afford to share," he said, and digging into the pockets of his shredded hoodie he pulled out a multicolored handful. "Which one do ya want, Four-Eyes? I got two of everything."

Malcolm looked down at the pile of tags on Red's hands, blinking and wordless.

"You guys weren't the only ones who ran into the League," Jason said. "Red and his new friends stole these from one of them. I met a couple myself."

So Red had encountered a Leaguer himself. And where Malcolm had immediately crumbled even with Stretch's help, the other boy had come out far richer than he had been even after beating a squad of normal Magicians. Looking sideways at Stretch, Malcolm noted the awe in the older Ranger's face, the unconcealed admiration for someone several years younger than him.

Maybe we did make a mistake, Malcolm thought sourly. We should've kept looking for Red. Not so we could help him, but so he could help us.

Why... Why was he even here? Why was he even on this team?

"Here," Red said, motioning him to the tags when Malcolm wouldn't move. "Just take a couple and thank me later."

Malcolm took two red ones, his original color, while Stretch took a couple of purples. "I'll thank you now, man," the older Ranger said. Then, sheepishly, "Gotta say, kind of embarrassing we couldn't get our own, in the end."

"Helping each other's the whole point of this," Jason said, shrugging. "Now, let's roll."

They went to the tourney staffer and presented their tags, after which they were unceremoniously let through the Sanctuary's exit. The large group opposite theirs stayed outside, and Malcolm realized then that they hoped to do the same thing he and Stretch had just done but in reverse. These other people were waiting for their own missing teammates to trickle in and hopefully carry extra tags they could afford to give away.

Pathetic, Malcolm thought, and he didn't consider himself undeserving of the same characterization.

They walked down a long, square tunnel that eventually opened up to a large room. It was empty, though at the back stood another opening much like the one they'd walked through, whatever lay beyond it cast in light too bright to see through. The room's walls were the same slate gray as the wall, and Malcolm saw now upon closer inspection that the thing was made of the same strange metal as the circular platform they'd flown on three days before. Some kind of artificial Mystic alloy, Malcolm guessed, though he didn't know the first thing about how it worked or why it was so special.

Inside they found a smaller crowd than the one outside. Staffers spanned the walls, some holding trays of food that Red immediately led their party to. The boy started grabbing at the thick sandwiches and chugging straight from the vase of water, much to the staffer's clear distaste, and as he did Malcolm looked around at the other Magicians who'd made it through.

Din's group was the first he took note of, mostly as it was by far the largest. Malcolm had seen dozens of them get outright murdered, but here the Rogue Magician still was with what looked like a good thirty men remaining. As if sensing his eyes, Din turned to look across the room at Malcolm and, after taking a moment to recognize him, gave the boy a wink.

There was another group of only four huddled close together. All donned what looked like military gear, their dark uniforms covered in body armor. One of the men was large, just as big as the canyon elf Lu if not larger, with thick limbs that seemed almost artificial. He stood beside a relatively small and thin woman who, despite her own size, easily carried the single longest sniper rifle Malcolm had ever so much as imagined, the weapon coated in a pitch black that stretched slung from her back down to her ankles and up a good foot or two over her short-cropped hair.

Before he could focus much on the other two Malcolm caught Falnir Thorson's brutish form. The man stood resting his giant hammer like a staff on the floor, and among him were six others.

The League of Honored Families in full, Malcolm realized with a shiver. Arthur Pendragon stood with a hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword, back straight and lips set in a pompous line. Then there were the others. Sunri Ramadvani, a brown-skinned man with a laughing smile and a razor-sharp discus spinning around his finger. Boras Olympus, a lanky man with tired eyes and what looked like a large gourd strapped to his shoulder and hanging under a lazy arm. Haster Soma, a robed man with graying hair and a strange black rod held in his crossed arms like some kind of royal scepter.

And Jahna Shah stood there among them too, Malcolm saw. Except now her whole body was covered in golden scales. They spanned tightly down her arms and legs like the glittering skin of some magic fish, almost parodic in their sheer opulent excess, and in her hand she carried the final unequipped piece: a cylindrical helmet that seemed made to cover the face, with the visage of a snarling demon glaring out to the world.

Her Talisman, Malcolm knew at once. She hadn't even needed it before. How had she gotten here so quickly? No, the real question was why she hadn't gotten here even sooner, strong as she was. How had Din's group caught her in the first place? The only reasonable explanation was that she'd allowed herself to be caught, but why?

Still, even with all that—and even after all he'd seen of her—Jahna was not the most eye-catching one in this group. The last League member had her back turned to him, but Malcolm saw her loose, white clothes, sleeves long enough to hide her hands. He saw her black-as-night hair, straight and brushed down to reach down to her hips. Most of all he felt the room slowly spiraling around her, saw how all the other Leaguers stood facing her with attentive, almost anxious eyes.

Who was she? Unlike the rest of her team, this woman had no Talisman that Malcolm could see.

"Red!"

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Malcolm turned along with the rest of his party to see another boy walking towards them. He looked a bit older and a bit thinner, and at the back of his waist he carried what looked like a Hardblade, the standard Duplicate Talisman that Agent Linker had once told him the Ranger Corps had started conferring to some of its members. Maybe I should apply to get one, Malcolm thought idly, but if he did then Jason would also expect to be asked for help with sword training, and it felt like he'd already taken enough from his older brother as it was.

"Oh, hey Glowstick," Red said, not bothering to stop eating. He and Lu had almost cleared out the staffer's tray all on their own.

This was Chase, then. Jason had told Malcolm about the young Ranger on their way in, briefly explaining what he and Red had been up to the past few days. Unlike the rest Chase had chosen to turn his tags over as soon as they reached the Sanctuary exit, insistent that his captain would be waiting for him on the other side.

And it seemed Chase was right, because following behind him was a man who looked Jason's age. He stood with the same casual air as Jason too, brown arms crossed and thick, coiled hair cut close at the sides, his curious face passing over all of theirs with a frankness buoyed by equal confidence. At his hip hung perhaps the strangest thing Malcolm had seen yet: a big blue triangle as wide as a dinner plate and as thick as a picture frame. Clearly it was a Talisman, but it looked to Malcolm less like a real weapon and more like some kind of giant arrowhead he'd cut out of its shaft and decorated in a cyan monochrome.

Chase held his hands up toward the man, presenting him the same way a gallery host would a work of art. "Guys, this is my Outpost Captain, Ronald Pharis. Captain Ron, these are, uh... the guys."

Ronald raised a brow at Red and Lu, who turned with their mouths too full to respond appropriately. "So... You're the ones who helped Chase out," he said, sounding decidedly uncertain. He turned to the rest, eyes glossing over them until he found Jason. "And you're Jason Column of Roxbury. Heard a lot about you."

"I've heard about you too," Jason said after a moment, smile friendly. "Ron Pharis of Austin. You were making waves a few years back."

"Then the waves stopped," Ronald said, his own smile thin. "Yours are still going strong, though."

Jason hummed. "We all have to be pretty good to have made it here."

"That's what I mean to show." Patting his triangle, Ronald put his other hand on Chase's shoulder and gripped it tight. "It's just us two for now. But you'll see that two's all we need to put up a good fight. Who knows? We might even take the whole thing."

Now Jason's smile turned challenging. "Oh? Alright, then. May the best team win."

"I'll get in on that action."

The whole group turned to see Leandra, much to Malcolm's surprise. She wore the same wide-brimmed hat and graced them with the same cocky grin he remembered from the day before, hands on her hips like a superheroine. Behind her stood Tony in his trenchcoat and Penny still with her hands bound at the wrists by her own set of Hardcuffs, both of them looking rather put out by the idea of having to mingle.

"How'd you get here?" Stretch asked, just as stupefied as Malcolm. "We totally took your tags!"

Leandra turned her grin on him. "What do you take me for? You guys gave us more than enough time to go hunting for other monsters." Her face morphed into a frown then, the memory smacking her satisfaction right off her. "I'll admit, though, you guys got the best of us. I was treating you like Mystic Beasts, but I should've known any Magician worth their salt could figure their way out of a trap like that." Now her smile returned as quickly as it had left. "Believe me, that's not happening again. Next time, we'll be the ones laughing our asses off."

Jason looked her up and down, eyes narrowed. After a moment he seemed to recognize her. "From what Mal said, your group sounded weird, but I get it now. You're from the Hunters Guild, aren't you?"

Still smirking, Leandra raised an arm in the air and brought it back down across her stomach, bowing dramatically. "That we are, Handsome. The only ones brave enough to show up, at least."

Red sidled up to Malcolm, a sandwich in his hand and a whisper coming out mid-bite. "What's a Hunters Guild?"

Malcolm scowled sideways at him, then sighed. "They're an official group of Magicians," he said quietly. "Like the Rangers. Except instead of protecting people they only look out for themselves, and all they care about is hunting down Talismans or special monsters. Really, they might as well just be a gang of Rouges."

"I'll have you know," Leandra said, smirk going to Malcolm. "My ears are very, very good. And there's nothing illegal about private citizens starting a club to pursue their shared interests."

Blushing at being overheard, Malcolm nevertheless kept his scowl up as he looked back at her. "If that's all it was then you wouldn't have a problem getting a Ranger license like us."

"And stay stuck looking after some dinky Outpost for the rest of my life? No thanks." Leandra straightened, eyes closed and head raised up to the ceiling. "I'm a free agent, kid. Going after what you want and not letting anything stop you, that's what life should be about."

Standing behind the woman, Penny scrunched her nose. "Don't waste your breath, Lea. He's kind of a total killjoy."

Red barked a laugh and threw an arm over Malcolm's shoulders. "That's what I've been saying!"

Jason turned away from Malcolm just as the boy pushed Red away. "I have to say, the Treasure Trove's a pretty big catch even for your sort of people. What exactly are you after in there?"

"Aw, think I'll ruin the surprise?" Leandra said, winking at him. "Let's just say I'm after the same thing I always am, Handsome. It's my job as the best Beast Tamer in the whole wide world to go after the biggest, baddest challenge I can find. Maybe you're it, hm?"

Next to Red, Lu swallowed the last of his own meal. Slapping the crumbs from his hands, he turned to Leandra. "I believe I can present this challenge, woman. My strength is mighty."

"Lu," Blossom sighed, palming her face. "I don't think that's the kind of challenge she's talking about."

The elf quirked a brow at her. "Do you not think me challenging enough."

"God, never mind."

Jason chuckled and the rest did too for the most part, but then his expression suddenly shifted, a hard frown coming to his face and a hard line coming to his lips. Malcolm noticed that Ronald also set his face into a serious glower, and while they didn't look as severe Leandra and Serena both seemed to grow tight around the eyes. They sensed something, though with his Spirit locked Malcolm couldn't tell what.

All he had to do was wait a few seconds, because as the group turned Malcolm found himself looking at Arthur Pendragon making his way across the room towards them, blond hair bobbing with each insistent step. The man looked absolutely livid, nearly growling as he reached them.

"So, Column, you yet live," he said, seething.

Jason drew up, hand on the handle of his sword just as Arthur's was. "Looks like it."

Subconsciously, the rest took a step or two away from the swordsmen, giving them space as one would men staring each other down during a shootout. Malcolm looked around at the staffers, who stared back at the commotion with faces far too placid. They'd handed over their tags, hadn't they? They'd passed the second challenge. Surely fighting here wasn't allowed?

"That was a dirty trick you pulled in the labyrinth," Arthur said. "Dirty as your blood. I should have known you capable of such cowardly tactics."

Jason pulled the corner of his lips into a wry smile. "I'm of the mind that if it works, it works."

"A brief victory. Brief and false." Arthur's grip tightened. "I'll make sure of it!"

He pulled his sword out, and as one the whole group of Rangers, Guardians, and Hunters prepared themselves, Spirits surging in one combined and furious pulse. But then Arthur's sword didn't so much as slip an inch from its scabbard. Malcolm glared at the man, waiting for his move, but as the seconds passed the boy realized Arthur couldn't move. His body had been paralyzed.

Not paralyzed, Malcolm realized, eyes widening. Taken over.

"How dull."

Jahna pulled up alongside Arthur, the scales of her armor ringing with each step, one hand still holding her helmet and the other now pointed at the man, fingers spread like a tiger's claw. Involuntarily, Malcolm took another step back, and from the corner of his eye he saw Stretch doing the same.

"You were told to stand by and not make trouble," Jahna went on, eyes on Arthur. She ignored the crowd that now stood before her, as if they didn't even exist. "Is this what the great Pendragon name has come to? A child throwing a tantrum?"

Falnir came by, hammer thrown over his shoulder and voice grumbling as it came out. "I don't blame him," he said, eyes passing over them. "These Rangers were... frustrating."

"I don't know what you mean, my friend," Sunri said, smiling as he bounded over. "These Rangers seem fun to me!"

The others neared at a steadier pace. "They make for interesting specimens," Haster said, zeroing in on Red.

"I thought the fighting was over," Boras put in, yawning.

And behind them all came the woman Malcolm had seen. She walked with a light step, each clopping with the sound of sandaled feet, and when she came close enough the other Leaguers all stepped clear out of her way, heads bowing in minute deference.

Malcolm looked at her and was immediately dumbstruck. Her milky white face was beautiful, but it also looked strangely poised, like a model endlessly posing for a picture that would never come. Her hair came down to her brow, cut across in straight bangs flanked by towers of silky black hair.

But what really shocked Malcolm were her eyes. They stared frankly back at him, one was as yellow and bright as the sun at high noon and the other as blue and serene as the moon during dreams of nighttime. They both glinted unnaturally, and both lacked pupils so that their round and spotless orbs stared unimpeded at the gaping crowd before them.

When she spoke, her voice came like light and airy yet stilted, like a prerecorded message. "The fighting has only just begun, I believe. But this time is meant to serve as a pause. Jahna, allow Arthur to explain himself."

At once Jahna twitched her fingers, and as she did something in Arthur's face changed. His neck and jaw became strained, veins popping all along his forehead, and his eyes looked around as unblinking as a doll's. "My lady... Yu-Shin..." His words came slowly, each syllable taking immense amounts of effort. "You... You promised me my sword... You promised me this man's life."

Yu-Shin's eyes drifted to Jason, who stood stock still as if under the gaze of a passing shark. "I did promise you that," she said. Then she turned to Sunri and Boras, who immediately dipped their heads lower, eyes on the floor. "In fact, I ordered you both to fulfill that promise for me. Why is Jason Column still alive?"

For the first time, Boras' lazy demeanor seemed all but shriveled into a tightly controlled anxiety. It was much the same for Sunri's happy disposition, though when he spoke Malcolm thought he did a good job of at least trying not to sound as bothered as he clearly was.

"My lady Yu-Shin," he said, "technically you ordered us to simply separate Column from the rest of his team. Killing him was a... an implication."

Yu-Shin blinked. "Yes, that's correct. Why was my implication not followed, then?"

A bead of sweat started making its way down Sunri's cheek. "After a quick exchange, it became clear to me that Boras and I were... were unable to complete the task. Column is powerful. He would have killed us."

"I see. And why did you not choose to die?"

The answer seemed insanely obvious as far as Malcolm was concerned—who in their right mind would willingly die while knowing they didn't strictly have to? But still Sunri did not give it. Instead, his tone became diplomatic, pausing as if each word were carefully considered.

"My lady, you also tasked us with eliminating as many other teams as we could. I determined that... Should we have died against Column, we would have been unable to complete that other request."

Yu-Shin paused for a long, arduous moment. Then, she gave Sunri a single sharp nod. "That is an acceptable response. Your punishment should be very mild, then." She held out a hand, the long sleeve of her shirt falling easily to fold at her elbows. "Sunri, Boras. Give me a finger, each of you."

Malcolm's jaw dropped, as did everyone else's save for the League. He waited for Yu-Shin to say she was joking, waited for any of these people to chuckle, but instead they all kept deadly straight faces. Worse, Sunri and Boras both sighed in blatant relief, shoulders dropping as if they'd just dodged incoming traffic.

In one second Sunri and Boras raised a hand. In the next, Sunri reached out with his chakram and, with a single slash, cut off each of their index fingers. The small joints came off at the knuckle with quick and long spurts of blood, each falling to the floor with a limp, dead bounce. Then, rather than scream with pain or even cover their new wounds, the Leaguers bent down, plucked the amputated fingers, and placed them on Yu-Shin's open hand as if offering her a sacrifice.

The woman stared down at the fingers, blood still squirting from them onto her hand and coloring her pristine white dress with bits of red. Then she raised her eyes to Sunri and Boras. "Good. But next time, you will choose to die."

Sunri dipped his head in another bow, Boras doing the same beside him. "We will, my lady."

Yu-Shin stared at them, nodding once more. Turning to the still-paralyzed Arthur, she held out the fingers so he could see them. "Is this enough to show you my commitment to our promise?"

Arthur's eyes were as wide as Malcolm's, but when he spoke the boy thought he could hear something like pride tinging his voice. "I... Yes, my lady. Very much. A well-deserved punishment."

"Hm. Jahna, break his arm."

Mouth popping open, Arthur made to argue, but then Jahna twitched a finger and his left arm twisted itself backward at the bicep, snapping like a cracker. The man screamed, and at a silent glance from Yu-Shin, Jahna let her control over him drop. Arthur fell to the ground, his good arm holding his broken one, cradling it against his chest and shaking in agony.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Leandra breathed, her face set in a mixture of disgust and intrigue.

"Wh... Why?!" Arthur screeched, wriggling on the floor before them. "Why?! I did nothing!"

Yu-Shin stared mercilessly down at him, her heterochromatic eyes betraying not a hint of pity or strife. "I don't like your tone, Arthur. It makes me think you've forgotten your place."

"I didn't! I didn't forget!"

"And now I am sure you won't in the future."

Malcolm felt Red shaking beside him. He turned to the other boy, thinking for a moment that Red was shaking for the same reasons he now was, horror at what they were watching and fear for his own safety.

Instead what he saw was anger. Red glared at Yu-Shin with eyes full of rage, lips drawn into a snarl, and the sight surprised Malcolm enough that he didn't even think to stop the other boy when he stepped forward.

"Lady, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Red said. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and when Yu-Shin turned to him he brought them up as if by instinct. "These guys... Aren't they your own teammates?"

Yu-Shin blinked at the boy. Malcolm got the sense that somehow she hadn't been expecting anyone to actually try and interrupt her. "Step away," she said, the order coming with the soft certainty that it would be followed.

"Uh, fuck you?" Red took another step forward. "I don't know what kind of weirdass Saw shit you've been watching, but—"

In an instant Yu-Shin snapped her arm out and took Red by the neck, cutting him off with a throaty gurgle. She raised her arm, its demure size deceptive in its strength, and without much effort held him up off the floor.

Her hand squeezed, eliciting another gargle from Red, and after a second of this she hummed in mild surprise. "Your neck won't snap."

"Didn't I say I ran into an interesting one?" Haster said, looking on with clear fascination.

Jahna drew forward, her puppeteering hand raised. "My lady, perhaps I should try?"

The air stilled. Malcolm turned to Jason, whose hand had tightened white on his sword. There was genuine murder in his eyes, a cold, detached assurance of death. "Let him go. Now."

Yu-Shin glanced at the Ranger. "You're threatening me?"

"No. I'm telling you."

Behind Jason, Lu glared down at the woman and came closer with grim determination. Chase also reached back to put a hand on his Hardblade, fingering its handle even as he seemed to gulp down his fear. Some of the others followed their lead, Serena's face breaking out into a hungry grin and Ronald's hard-set face taking on a kind of resigned acceptance. Even Stretch drew himself up despite his locked Spirit and bound hands. Malcolm felt himself start to tense, body filling not with Spirit but a very natural anticipation.

For a second Malcolm thought Yu-Shin wouldn't listen. She stared at Jason with such little interest, as if staring at a wall rather than a person. But then her eyes trailed to the sword at his hip, and she sighed. "The Treasure Trove is what I want. I suppose it would be better not to get us all disqualified before I reach it."

She dropped Red, who landed beside Arthur in a coughing heap. Jason knelt to help pull the boy up, hand always on his sword and eyes always on Yu-Shin, and as he did Red rubbed at his own neck.

"She... She's got one heck of a strong grip," Red wheezed.

Yu-Shin looked at him, arms coming down and hands getting lost in her sleeves. "Listen well, boy. These Magicians beside me... This man you see at your feet." She put a foot on Arthur's broken arm and leaned into it, placing enough weight to send him into another string of screaming complaints. "These are not my teammates. These are not my friends, or even my colleagues."

Red stared at her, anger giving way to confusion, and even Jason's murderous rage had settled into something like dread.

"I am Yu-Shin of the Great Fukong Clan," the woman said. "I am the Destined Ruler of Heaven and Earth. My invincible eyes can see across time and space. My Mystic Art is the most powerful in existence. I am without equal, and my orders are absolute. What you see here..." She raised a hand out to the other Leaguers, who remained grim and subservient. "What you see are merely my possessions. I own them as I do my wealth, my lands, and my titles. And because I own them, I can do with them as I wish."

Then, for the first time, Yu-Shin smiled. It was a small thing, barely a curve of the lips, but in it Malcolm saw nothing sane.

"Soon, I will own you too," she said. "I will own everything. And then, when I order you to die, you will do so happily."

Something so ridiculous, so certifiably insane, should have produced nothing more than laughter and scorn. But no one laughed, and rather than scorn they looked on as if at some demon or god.

And then, once the silence stretched on, they all heard footsteps coming their way.