That night, Mark and Horan were in the dormitory making the final preparations for the soon-to-begin party. More specifically, Horan was helping Mark put on his hand-picked tuxedo while Mark squirmed meekly.
Mark swallowed as the bow-tie was placed over his head. “This is ridiculous. You want me to go out there in this? It’s the stiffest thing I’ve ever worn, and I’ve been in a cast!”
Horan pulled back the overly wide sleeves of his gold-trimmed blue robes. “Stiffness or no, you look amazing. Just be grateful I didn’t make you get your hair done. In an event as important as this one, you need to look your best. Your… vagrant hair could be a dealbreaker for someone wanting to talk to you or not.”
“Gee, what a shame that would be.”
Horan held up a hand. “Don’t say that, you have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t understand how important this kind of thing can be, and you have no sense of style.”
Mark huffed. “Says you, that depends on-“
“No, no, that wasn’t a question.” Horan smiled and tightened Mark’s tie. “And there we are. All dressed up and ready to go.” He grabbed Mark’s hand and started walking both of them to the hall the party was taking place in.
Mark grumbled as the two of them walked to the elevator. “I’m not ready for anything. This stupid suit only has two pockets, where do I keep my gun?”
“Your jacket has pockets on the inside, but that’s not important. This is a calm, peaceful social event. There is no need to bring a weapon to it, the only thing sharp should be your fashion sense.”
“The Aztecs left in casual dress. And one of them was carrying a box full of paintball guns.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t want to be like those guys, they’re a bunch of hooligans.”
“From what I’ve seen, I’d fit right in with them if I tried.”
“And that’s what I’m trying to fix.” Horan pressed the elevator button and stepped inside. “I spent a month running around in the desert with you, and I already barely remember what happened out there. I’m sure you can manage one night where you don’t need to fear for your life, as nightmarish as I’m sure it’ll be for you.”
Mark pressed the button to the third floor. “You had to stay out there to get back at Thel. Going to this party is completely pointless.”
“You shush! This is a very important occasion for the Greeks, and we are their honoured… We’re their guests, is the point.”
“They do this every week because they feel like it!”
“I don’t see your point, I held a banquet every single day for five thousand years. Doing something a lot doesn’t make it any less special.”
“Yes it-“ Mark reigned himself in. “Fine. I’ll stop complaining. This can’t be the worst thing ever.”
The elevator doors opened to reveal the biggest room Mark had ever seen. Seemingly taking up the entire floor, the ceiling was supported by large marble pillars, around which snack-laden tables clustered. Somehow, the room was filled with even more Primoi than that morning’s meeting. Some huddled around the tables, a few were participating in a paintball wargame on the far side of the room, but most were flailing around on the massive dance floor in the middle of the room. Yet more Primoi spilled out of elevators ringing the walls.
Mark stiffened up. “It’s so many people.”
Horan grabbed him by the shoulders and began to gently push him out of the elevator. “Mm-hmm. And remember, interact socially with at least a third of them before you can leave.”
“What?”
“Yup. Off a quick head-count, that’s… eight, nine… thirty-six people. That’s easy.”
“No it’s not!”
“Oh, please, you just need to know the right tricks.” Horan led Mark into the throng of people, his companion a full head shorter than almost everyone else. “Read their body language, figure out what topics they like to talk about, cold read, that sort of thing. And, the most important secret of all: Breezy Slide.”
“What does that even mean?!”
“You’ll figure it out on the way.” Horan lightly shoved Mark forward. “Breezy Slide.” The instant he and Mark were separate, Horan turned and walked towards a nearby table on the edges of the paintball wargame. “Hey, what’s going on here? Great to see you out here, Omet, great to see you. Say, is that purse ostrich leather?”
Mark stood in place, looking at all the people surrounding him, None of them were looking in his direction, but he still felt hundreds of pairs of eyes trained on him. Horan had already disappeared into the crowd, but Mark still attempted to follow him. He’d known that Omet person by name, that could be a start.
Instead of the casual clothes the Aztecs wore most of the time, Omet had dressed for the occasion, wearing a worn, padded suit, likely for the paintball nearby. Concerned about the perceived fanciness, Mark awkwardly sidled up to Omet, who was looking at a chocolate fountain while covered in paint splatters. “Hey, uh… Looks like you and Horan know each other. That’s, um, we have that in common, I guess.”
Omet picked up a golden chalice and filled it with chocolate sauce from the nearby fountain. “Well, I wouldn’t say we know each other. We spoke for about a minute yesterday. Honestly, I’d forgotten his name until you reminded me just now.” They took a sip from their chalice.
“Hey, that looks pretty good.” Mark took his own chalice and filled it up. “I bet if Horan saw me doing this, he’d call me disgusting. Maybe it is, but it’s not like I care.” He took a long drink.
Omet chuckled. “That’s a good opinion to have on what other people think. I think my siblings and I would like you.” They gestured over to the paint-splattered corner of the room. “You play?”
“I’m a former Special Forces veteran who has racked up approximately sixty confirmed kills over the course of my life. So, I’ve never played Paintball before, but I can probably hold my own.”
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“Hardcore.” Omet grinned. “Yeah, my Domain would definitely like you. I’m taking a quick break from the action right now, but the other team’s got an opening since Quet said he wasn’t feeling up to it. Want to join us? I promise I won’t aim for your head.”
“Yeah, I’d love to, but…” Mark gestured down to his tuxedo. “Horan spent hours designing this thing for me, he’d flip if I messed it up.”
“Ah, that’s a shame.” Omet looked at the other Aztecs shooting at each other. “Well, I suppose I could just stay over here for a while. The game’s gotten pretty tiring.”
“I thought you were just taking a break?”
“Oh, I was.” Omet set their chalice down. “But, if you think about it, this is for the best. If you can’t play, the other team is down a player. But if I don’t play, it evens out.” They held their hands out, parallel to each other. “Perfect balance, just the way I like it.”
“…Yeah, I guess so.” Mark took another sip. “I mean, if you’re stopping just to keep me company, it’s fine if you leave me.”
“Oh no, it’s quite alright.”
Mark felt the conversation grind to a halt. He and Omet drank their chocolate sauce in silence until Mark grew too self-conscious to stay quiet. “So, you’re a Primus. Do you have some kind of superpower like the rest of the ones I’ve met?”
“Oh, yes, every Primus does. That’s how this whole thing works. I’ve got this duality thing going, meaning I can…” Omet split in two, creating a duplicate of themself like a dividing cell. “Not an easy feat for most Primoi, but I can do it quite easily.” They merged back into one being and put their chalice down. “But I can split more than just myself in two.”
They rubbed their hands together like a defibrillator and placed them palms-down on the table. They pushed their hands away from each other, neatly splitting the table perfectly in half in the process. The chocolate fountain, which had been located in the centre of the table, crashed to the ground and began spilling chocolate sauce everywhere. The table halves then collapsed inward, creating a valley through which the chocolate spill quickly began to spread.
Omet winced. “Right. Should have thought about that.” They pulled themself onto the corner of a fallen-over table half, keeping their legs away from the spill. “But you get the idea. I can pull most things apart or push them back together. I can even do it to living things, though in those cases it just creates a duplicate. If I do it to a Primus, it splits their power between the two copies. My siblings mostly just use it to pull things apart for their woodshop projects. Or to make ‘stop hitting yourself’ jokes.”
Mark climbed onto the other table half as Omet spoke and waited for them to finish. “I, uh… don’t really have any cool powers besides knowing how guns work. Human, and all that.”
Omet nodded. “Right. And, er, what do you think of all this Primus stuff so far?”
“Mostly just confusing and dangerous. For instance, apparently there was a giant marble city filled with a bunch of immortal, superpowered party animals right outside a major city? How does that happen? How did nobody notice? Why haven’t you guys conquered the entire world before? It feels like you guys just got slapped onto our world a few years ago. I act like I don’t really care about this stuff around Horan, but it’s really starting to get hard to figure out what’s happening.”
“Yeah, I can imagine it seeming like that. This one Primus called Deus took over about two thousand years, and started making sure nobody interfered in human business. He said we would just mess up your world. At least, that’s what he told my Domain when we first manifested. Most Domains just kept themselves invisible to humans, to make sure none of you ever realized we existed. Deus vanished along with most of humanity a few years ago, and since then, a lot of small-time Primoi have been trying to use what’s left of humanity to make a name for themselves. I’m sure you’ve seen that, recently.”
“Oh yeah, quite a bit. Coming here from Egypt was a serious nightmare.”
“I can imagine.”
Mark, once again sensing that they had run out of conversation topics, got off the table and stepped away from the concerningly large puddle of chocolate. “Well, I’d say that’s enough talking for now. It’s, uh, nice knowing you, but maybe I can get Horan to let me off the hook early so I can go to bed.”
“Have fun.” Omet waved Mark off as he left in search of Horan.
-
Leaving Mark to his fate, Horan waded through the crowd to find a new group to talk his way into. After probing various groups near the tables and keeping a wide berth between himself and the paintball arena, his eyes settled on a group of haughtier-looking Primoi chatting in the corner.
Horan strode over to the group and leaned on the table, giving the group his winning smile. “Hey there. What’re you three talking about over here?”
The blonde Primus in the middle of the group tittered and looked at her companions. “Oh, nothing, really. You’re the new guy around here, right? I think I saw you in the meeting this morning.”
“That’s me.” Horan stood up straight. “Name’s Horan, Pharaoh of the Egyptian Domain.”
The burly Primus wearing the leather jacket on the left looked confused and rather annoyed. “We know, you introduced yourself to literally everyone this morning.”
“Uh, heh…” Horan gripped the end of the tablecloth out of everyone’s sight. “That’s true, yeah. So, what’s your name? Or, names?”
The aquamarine-vested Primus on the right snickered behind his hand. “I’m Hadras. This is Saralai and Atenos.” He pointed to the middle and left-hand Primoi respectively.
“That’s right.” Saralai straightened her posture. “We’re the ones who keep the whole Domain safe. I’m sure you’ve heard of and/or seen me and my Lightbringer in action. It’s a sight to behold, and it took a lot of work to fine-tune it to only hurt demons.”
“Yeah, I have, actually. I saw you in action on my way here yesterday, and Orsinus brought you up when we just arrived.”
Saralai nodded smugly. “That’s about right. You really can’t talk about this place without bringing up me and my friends here. Even Orsinus knows I’m the most powerful Primus in the Domain.”
Hadras shrugged. “I dunno, I don’t think you can really top his whole thunderbolts-and-lightning thing.”
Horan held up a hand. “Wait, he has powers? I thought he was just some guy.”
Hadras shook his head. “Nah, he’s got his own thing going on. He doesn’t exactly show it, but he’s got these really impressive lightning powers. Plus, he built this whole tower himself, so he’s got this weird bond with the place. But building a place to live is one thing, and my water control is something else entirely, I’m sure I could beat Orsinus if I really tried.”
Atenos laughed. “Pfft, you think you can get to the top with a dumb gimmick? Nobody can beat my good old-fashioned strength!”
The conversation quickly dissolved into an argument over which of the three was the most powerful. Horan stood quiet for almost a minute before Saralai noticed him still standing there. “Oh, right. You’re still here. Well? Who do you think would win?”
Horan paused nervously. “…Well, I’m sure you’re all very impressive. After all, you’re part of one of the strongest Domains around. But I haven’t really seen any of you in action, so I can’t really decide.”
Atenos harrumphed. “Well, what can you do, then?”
“Oh, me? Well, most of my powers are wind-related.” Horan lifted himself into the air, his robes hanging downward to make him seem much larger than he really was. “For instance, I can fly! Check it out!”
He flew up to the ceiling and slapped it with one hand. “But that’s not all, I can also-“
He stopped when a hole opened up in the ceiling next to him, Yelping in surprise, Zaratos fell through and crashed onto the table below, sending the snacks on the table flying everywhere.
As Horan touched down and the three other Primoi looked down at him, Zaratos sat up slowly and spat a tapa out of his mouth. “Really, Horan? You couldn’t have stayed at least a little close to the ground? I can’t see where I’m gonna pop out of my hole, just that you’re gonna be there. Not cool.”
“Sorry! Are you okay?” Horan helped him up.
“Ugh, a few broken ribs, maybe a concussion. I’ve had worse. I’m done with setting up your thaumaturgical resonances, so you and your friend can head off. You should probably do it now, before anything else bad happens.”
Horan sighed. “Sure, but I’m kind of in the middle of something…” He looked over at Saralai, Hadras and Atenos.
Saralai crossed her arms and looked at the shattered table. “No, it’s fine. You can leave.”
Horan turned away nervously. “…Alright, sure. Just let me get Mark.”