"When you brought over the first few groups of the Old Guard, I found myself deeply impressed," Kellan rumbled. "Their organization, their precision, and their seemingly endless drive were inspiring. I wondered just how far the differences between humanity on Earth and humanity on Thayland stretched."

"Not very," Bob said after a moment of silence.

"Not very," Kellan agreed with a sigh. "You happened to bring over people who had a purpose, one beyond the accumulation of wealth and power. I'm more than pleased to have added them to my hoard. Those who took advantage of the contracts I offered are, for the greatest measure, motivated solely by a desire for increased personal power and wealth."

Bob stared at Kellan.

"I'm not saying there is anything wrong with that," Kellan agreed with his unspoken accusation with a draconic smile. "I raise that point because, while they aren't as desirable as the Old Guard, they still have value to me." He tapped the screen of the tablet in front of him. "I believe I have a better understanding of why the nations want them back, but I'm not certain they'll wish to return, given the points made here."

Bob frowned. "It does sort of seem like they want to conscript them into dealing with the waves," he agreed.

"Would you take that deal?" Kellan asked.

"If Monroe or my friends were here? Yes, but I'd also be looking for a better long-term solution," Bob replied, then paused. "What happens when they stay, as far as delving priority? Are you going to offer the contracts they fulfilled to Earth again?"

"That's something I've given no small amount of thought to," Kellan sighed. "From the data I've been provided, it appears that many, not all, but most, of the people who came over on a contract have significantly slowed down their delving. They're still fulfilling the terms of the contract, but they've slowed down their pursuit of longer or more frequent delves. Initially, almost all of the people who came over delved for eight to sixteen hours a day, six to seven days a week, averaging sixty-four hours a week. That has dropped to forty for over ninety percent of them," Kellan said as he looked at his tablet.

"So there is likely to be some capacity to spare," Bob mused. "Especially if they've reached a point where they're comfortable. They might only be doing the full forty hours because the contract requires it."

"Precisely," Kellan agreed. "My concern is that at no point can I permit non-citizens to have priority over actual citizens. Considering the wealth of Dungeons my planet possesses, that shouldn't be an issue, but I must consider certain harsh truths." Kellan leaned back in his chair. "There are definitely places that are more desirable to live than others. These do not always correlate with Dungeons that are more desirable to delve than others. That has mostly evened out so far, with more people living in the nicer places, keeping the Dungeons delved down, while I've been able to shunt the contracted people from Earth to the Dungeons in less hospitable locales."

"But if those people become citizens and choose to move to nicer lodgings, you'll have an imbalance," Bob nodded.

"That is part of it," Kellan agreed. "Honestly, having the ability to move the contracted people around as I'd like is a boon. As long as I have a large number of them, I shouldn't have a problem with keeping all of the Dungeons delved voluntarily."

Bob pursed his lips. "I'm guessing," he began slowly, "that if you didn't have volunteers, it would fall to the Endless and the Adventurers Guild?"

Kellan nodded. "I've spoken to the Old Guard as well, and they are willing to put some of their people into rotation."

"So you don't really need the people from Earth, it's just a nice to have sort of thing," Bob concluded.

"Exactly," Kellan smiled. "The Adventurers Guild, The Endless, and The Old Guard have higher tier people to keep the Dungeons drained, but I'd rather not have to burden them with that task. I much prefer to have the Dungeons delved by people eager to do so. Then there is the matter of taxes, a point of concern I share with these other nations."

"They really don't want to give up the twenty-five percent cut they've been getting," Bob said.

"I don't want to surrender my fifty percent tax," Kellan grumbled. "Those crystals have cast my world's advancement entire millennia ahead of what would have otherwise been possible. Still, I have offered shelter beneath my wings, and I will not force productive citizens to return to Earth, no matter how annoying the logistics may become."

"Maybe don't do that?" Bob suggested, hurrying to continue as he saw Kellan's eyes narrow. "The next round of contracts, have them explicitly state that they are to return to Earth at the end of the contract."

Kellan blinked. "That," he said slowly, "would be a significant change."

"It's not like you're denying any of your people shelter," Bob continued. "You said it before: This is just business. Earth isn't your responsibility. You did everything in your power to save the people here, and you succeeded beyond my wildest, most optimistic expectations. Now you're offering Earth a chance to gather more crystals than they otherwise would be able to while at the same time increasing the level of the volunteers and removing the need for the governments to feed them." He shook his head. "Your terms have been very fair. Adding a requirement that when their contract ends, they have to return home isn't unreasonable if you have a policy in place for people to immigrate." Bob looked Kellan squarely in the eyes. "You do have an immigration policy, right?"

"I do," Kellan replied, "although I suspect that it is terribly simple when compared to the policies on this world. You must swear that you intend no harm to my world or any within it. You must also prove that you are dedicated to supporting yourself and your community." He smiled toothily. "That is normally accomplished by having a recommendation from a citizen. Finally, you must swear that you do not hold any allegiance to the seven gods of light."

"Those aren't unreasonable," Bob noted.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"I certainly don't think so," Kellan agreed. "I suspect I would have gathered more of the people of Earth into my hoard were it not for the fact that there are only twenty-six beings on the planet that can administer the oaths, and all of us have other things to do."

"How long is the wait to actually immigrate?" Bob asked.

"When I last checked, nine months," Kellan replied with a smile.

"Have the people whose contracts are ending sworn that oath yet?" Bob asked.

"No," Kellan shook his head. "The contract stated that they weren't permitted to worship the seven gods of light."

"That's perfect," it was Bob's turn to smile. "Extend the contracts of anyone who wants to stay, the terms remaining the same until they can immigrate properly. All the governments involved get to keep their revenue streams, the people who want to stay get to stay, and the new contracts keep this from happening again."

"That sounds... reasonable," Kellan mused.

----------------------------------------

"Don't you get tired of fighting?"Alex asked curiously. "I mean, I had to delve a lot to get to the peak of tier six, but you guys are knocking on the door to tier nine." He shook his head. "That's just crazy grinding, you know? I don't think I could handle that, I'm a little burnt out as it is," he admitted. "Now that the DoD is done with me, I'll be forced to cut back, but I'm not unhappy about that. I've got enough mana of my own that I can pretty much power all the circuits at home, with a delve a month providing more than twice the mana crystals I need for the rest."

"Sure, we get tired of the grind," Harv agreed. "Remember, we might look twenty, but we're actually in our forties. We did a lot of shepherding and delving before we ever met Bob. We'd probably be tier six if we weren't working with him."

Alex had reached out to Harv and Eli to have lunch and celebrate his newfound freedom.

"We'd definitely have taken it a lot easier," Eli agreed. "But, when you're around Bob, it just...," he trailed off.

"It's not like Bob is some sort of inspirational leader or anything," Harv stepped in, shaking his head. "He's absolutely not."

"It's more that you sort of feel bad," Eli looked up, searching for the words. "It's like, you feel ashamed that this guy is still going at when you're quitting, you know?"

Harv nodded. "Exactly. Bob has this grim, determined-to-see-it-through kind of attitude, paired with his constant assertion that he is not special."

"It's kind of crazy, though, right?" Alex asked. "I mean, you figure a cult leader is going to be crazy charismatic, just a magnetic personality, but Bob's more socially awkward in an endearing kind of way."

Harv winced. "Yeah, we tease him a little bit, but the whole religion thing is starting to freak us all out."

"I'm amazing," Eli said cooly, buffing his nails on his shirt, "but I'm not sure I'm someone that ought to qualify as an object of veneration."

"I get why that Tyload guy felt like he had to slot you guys into his pantheon, but dude, how weird is it to have people think you're a god? I know the rules, if someone asks if you're a god, you say yes! But still, I wouldn't want anyone worshipping me," Alex shook his head. "I would kind of like to check out that planet, though. Dinosaur people look so cool," he said wistfully. "Also, those storms sound amazing. I've always loved thunderstorms, ever since I was a little kid. I guess I was the opposite of a regular kid because whenever there was a storm rolling in, I'd sneak out to our apartment's balcony and watch it rain."

"If you like storms, Url should definitely be on your bucket list," Harv agreed. "I know we're going back there to check up on everyone and also to bring Laura back to see Earth."

"Bob's got a soft spot for kids," Eli grinned.

"Kids and cats," Harv amended. "Speaking of, where is Redfang?"

Eli sighed. "He ran off with Monroe and Icy. I imagine they're getting up to trouble somewhere."

"Aren't you worried?" Alex asked.

"They're tier seven," Eli scoffed. "I'm pretty sure that if there was a list of the top fifty most powerful beings on the planet, our pets would occupy a good chunk of it."

----------------------------------------

Monroe swished his tail idly as he stalked down the hallway, leading his pride closer to their prey.

His human-servant had been in this building for over a day now, and Monroe had gotten rather bored. In search of entertainment, he'd found his regular companions, Redfang and Icy, easily enough, and together they'd begun searching the building for anything interesting.

They'd found it in the form of Bola de nieve, a fellow feline overlord. Smaller but still large enough to play, Snowball had been eager to join them, expressing her own boredom.

The halls were mostly empty, with the human-servants spending their time in various rooms, allowing them to roam freely, more or less. Monroe had long ago discovered the secret of door knobs, so they didn't impede his progress, and he'd also discovered that a door that was locked on one side was often easily opened from the other.

Judicious use of his 'How did you get there' power had allowed him to twist to the other side of any locked door and open it.

Well, almost any locked door, but the one that had been unwilling to open had simply been knocked down.

A human-servant stepped out into the hallway ahead of Monroe and stopped, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open as he appreciated the undeniable magnificence displayed in every graceful step before darting back inside.

Monroe suspected that he would summon other human-servants to come worship, a not uncommon occurrence. It could be tiresome, but it was his duty to accept the supplication of the lesser beings who sought to worship him.

He sniffed the air delicately, confirming the tantalizingly delicate aroma of roasting meat.

With a chuff, he continued to lead his pride deeper into the building.

----------------------------------------

Achmed Kolstoy found his job, on any given day, to be both exciting and terrifying.

Before the System integration, security at the United Nations had been mostly concerned with the sort of terrorist acts that would result in mass casualties.

The introduction of the System had brought a wealth of challenges that he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to face.

So when his wrist buzzed, and a call came in, he took a deep breath before answering.

"Impossible," he replied to the voice on the other end. "They have to be summons or familiars or something. There is no way monsters spawned inside the building."

The voice continued to warble in his ear as he tapped the screen on his armband, calling up the cameras in the hallway adjacent to the room the panicked man was calling from.

He drug his finger backward, rewinding the footage until he saw what had caused the man to freak out.

Four massive cats were slinking down the hallway.

Achmed recognized one of them as Snowball, the President of Mexico's familiar, but the other three were unknowns.

"Yes, I'm looking at the video, and I can confirm that what you saw was a familiar, probably bored from waiting around for her person," Achmend informed the man. "I'll make sure they know that their cat is roaming around." He ended the call.

Expanding the screen on his wrist, he tapped the commands to follow the progress of the huge cats. It didn't take him long to realize what was happening.

"Shit," he cursed as he tapped his screen again. "I need to warn the kitchen."

----------------------------------------

"Mr. President," his aide had leaned over his shoulder and was discreetly asking for his attention.

Emmanuel gave him a slight nod, tilting his head.

"Sir, it appears that Bola de nieve has invaded the kitchens," his aide whispered. "They're apparently having trouble getting her to move."

Emmanuel nodded and rose from his seat, quietly leaving the room as the discussion regarding the creation of a high-speed, heavy-duty elevated rail system continued.

All the involved parties had agreed in principle to the idea, but now the matter was beginning to become hopelessly mired in the bog of that most bureaucratic of processes: determining how to fund it.

It was almost a relief to escape the meeting, at least for a little while.

He took good care of his Bola de nieve, and she seldom wandered off, her every need having been attended to.

A bit of playtime would likely satisfy her, and a donation of a hundred crystals would hopefully soothe the tempers of the chefs whose dishes had been delayed by a hungry kitty.