Social media, like always, was a brainless time dump. I ended up scrolling through various posts for another five minutes before I finally sat down on my phone. I couldn’t do this for another minute, so instead, I look through war-efra.com. It was actually surprisingly diverse; pictures of Efra; drawings, and commission requests for weapons and armor. People sell a variety of things: potions, materials, crafted weapons, and a wide variety of other crafted things. Maybe I should explore more in the Doors. Some of this stuff was going for a LOT of money. Apparently the weapons and armor there were a lot more effective than kevlar, and could be worked into pretty powerful things.

There are also general discussion pages, that seemed to be pretty busy, one of the most popular sections, other than the, “for sale,” and, “looking for,” pages was the “STAT PRIORITY,” section where people would give advice on how to spend SP. Apparently, the go-to for mages was ignoring everything else and dumping all of your points into Magic. Creativity was largely looked at as a useless stat; perhaps useful for crafters and the like, but even then they prioritized intelligence. Hm, maybe I’ll test out the theories I had on the walk home. If so, I could probably turn that whole paradigm around.

What struck me was that this was all done in English. Tens of thousands of active users and they all spoke English? I didn’t believe it. There were pictures of Tokyo, Beijing, and Paris, all filled with doors. Perhaps someone was running the site who had the power to read all languages, and somehow encoded that into the makeup of the site? A kind of magic algorithm? I want to test out my theory, so I dig through the drawers that the television and pull out one of the stacks of parchments that I had taken out of the Door with the mud golem and take pictures of it with my phone and post a new, ‘topic,’ on the forum.

“Hey, can anyone help me out? I was kind of curious so I took these out of a Door. What do they say?”

With that, I put my phone back in my pocket. I was going to take it with me this time around. I had seen pictures of

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I’m going out,” I say to Clio, currently chewing away at her rawhide.

Away?

“Yes, away.”

I grab hold of the staff leaning on the wall nearest to her and summon Shadow out of wherever she was. She voiced her displeasure as soon as she made contact with the bed.

Why do you keep doing this, Mister? She mewled inside of my head.

“To keep you safe.”

I’ll have you know that I was perfectly safe on top of the roof.

“I’ll be out for a while.” I change the subject, “And I don’t like the idea of you accidentally being left outside for the night. There are owls around here, after all.”

If that’s the case...just remember to fill my bowl. Shadow dug her claws into the soft mattress and sank into a pillow.

“Of course.”

I do just that before I pull on the chainmail and buckle my gauntlets in place before sliding on the little-too-big hoodie. I refill my water bottle and put it in my backpack before I head out. I see Shawn leave his room under mine. Dylan’s face lights up when she sees me step out of the room. I ignore it and call out to Shawn, he glances back at me.

“Oh! Lawrence, you’re back?”

“Yeah. What have you been up to all day?”

“What else?” He laughs and slaps his hand against the wooden post that held up the hallway that I stood on. I feel the whole thing shake. “Did you want to come along?”

“I want to do a few solos.” I say, “How many are left along Plainview?”

“...about 12?”

12? I had only closed, what? Five? Six? Plus the one I closed with Shawn yesterday would make, at most, seven. Did he close 6 in the three hours or so I’ve been out?

“...well...” I run my hand through my hair and sigh, “Nevermind, I’ll come along.” If I waited too long, there wouldn’t be any more doors.

I hurry down the stairs and Shawn pats me on the shoulder. I wince at the force of the impact.

“Now let’s go.” I follow Shawn as he steps across the parking lot. He leads me down the road to the door in the canal, “Haven’t done this one yet. Started at the far end over there.” He points to the stoplights down the street where the street began, “And made my way down here. Needed a refill of water in my bladder.”

“...bladder?”

Shawn pulls at the hose hanging off his bag and uncaps it. He squeezes the end of it. Water sprays out of it and splashes me in the face.

“2 liters. Really portable.”

I should get one. Dylan waves as we leave down the road. Shawn waves back and drapes his arm over my shoulder.

“We got a world to save, Lawrence! Let’s go.”

His voice booms and overwhelms even the rushing of the 18-wheeler passing us by.