Back in the saddle. It felt, in some ways, normal. Returning to the office after a long weekend. There was a taste of freedom that soured the grind, but before long, I recognized my place as a cog in the machine. Not yet dust and still full of most of my own blood. Couldn’t complain, or at least the complaint box seemed to have been taped shut. I’d just bide my time, then.
Wasn’t like me to crash straight after a Quest, or at least without being half dead. Yet here I was, floating around in some colorless nether. Similar to my usual falling dream, but slightly different. No hands blazing different hues as I fell. A calm, rather than panic. Felt a lot like…
> Hello, Eric.
Balance.
“Hello, Rat God. Business or pleasure meeting?” My mouth seemed to do the necessary motions this time. No need for odd telepathy. I hoped.
> Neither. You Had Achieved Balance Between The Forces. But You Must Maintain It.
I grimaced at the booming voice with no owner. Certainly, I’d prefer not to see the impossibly enormous rat made of squirming maggots again, but it felt odd speaking to the void.
“You saw me use Entropy without losing me hand, though?”
> Correct. At The Expense Of Wasting Your Other Energies.
“Any actual advice?” Getting short with an eldritch energy wasn’t the best idea I’d had today, but I grew tired of being stretched out between all the different things I was supposed to be. I also assumed that the Rat God could read my thoughts as well.
> I Can, Yes. My Advice Is To Think A Little Harder.
My eyes fluttered open. Back in the basement. I turned my gaze over to Rodney, who was still looking at his screen. “Sorry, I must be getting old.”
[Yes, very slowly.]
“It’s fine. You’ve only been out like… fifteen minutes?” He gave me a shrug.
I scowled at Wight before sighing and melting into the recliner. What did the Rat God mean by think a little harder? That’s what I predominantly used my brain for. I thought.
[What are you thinking about, Eric?]
Wight swung his legs back and forth as he stared at me. He was getting better at moving his beak to match up with his words these days. At first it was just open, words fell out, closed. Now there was an approximation of being correct, like he was badly dubbed.
“Thinking about thinking.”
[How is that working out for you?]
I grimaced at his snark. We were rubbing off on him too much. “Rat God visited me during my nap, he want’s me to maintain the balance better by thinking harder.”
[Okay.]
My right eye twitched. I had an inkling about what the eldritch being might be getting at. I was shuffling back and forth with my power, like a see-saw trying to remain level. It was easy to tip into the ground on one side or the other and threaten instability. They were leaving me with the context clues to come up with the answer by myself, even as simple as it was.
Ice-cream. More specifically, the Neapolitan kind.
“Eric, got some response in from the Org about your… efforts.”
“Not right now,” I waved him away and furrowed my brow at the floor. Hadn’t finished my introspective eureka moment. It was important to lay it out in uncertain terms.
So, yeah. The ice-cream that had three different flavors. Instead of taking three scoops of strawberry and leaving a dent, scoop across all three and leave it equal. Damn. That sounded more poignant before I actually spelled it out.
“Actually, go ahead, Rodney.” I flared out my nostrils and sunk further into the recliner. “Hit me with the good news.”
[Rather optimistic, in the face of your own waning mortality.]
I shot him a glare. Like a dog with a bone, he had latched onto the amusing point that I’d eventually grow old and die. Given my vocation, it seemed like a non-issue. The number of Hunters that made it to retirement… well, they didn’t. If I had a particular purpose outside of my normal role, I was sure I’d be discarded once my use was up. Probably destroyed in the process, a sacrifice to save the world or something equally cliche.
As much as I hated how inevitable that sounded, I’d made my peace with it. At this stage there were several points I should have died already. I was living on borrowed time.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“The Org says… wow, they really just let Partridge dictate these things, huh? Reading between the lines and colorful expressions, they are content enough that you destroyed the cargo and the warehouse.”
I nodded. That reflected my thoughts on the day, too.
“They are less pleased with your cavalier and reckless attitude.”
“What about the portal location?” They had been clear before that they didn’t want me to be a loose cannon. I was a fully fledged mortar battery on trolley wheels, one of them off-kilter from the rest. Still, I had exercised a little soft skills in getting Hoff on my side to deliver us unto evil. They would know, and they would approve—even if they didn’t tell me outright.
“Hold for further instructions.” He shrugged.
With a sigh, I closed my eyes again. I didn’t want to mess around in the Lust side of the Lowers. Org definitely didn’t want to send me there, especially because of my history with Pearl. Once they found out about her, they tried to drug me into killing her off. They figured me compromised when it came to being lured by enticing demons. It wasn’t like that, though—but I couldn’t expect them to understand the nuance.
I’d have to drag her out for a romp through the Lowers now that I could sever their watchful gaze with
[So we are just going to sit and wait while Eric wastes away?]
Perhaps Hell wouldn’t be so bad, actually.
“Essentially, yeah.” Rodney lowered his screen and scratched at his hair. “No further Quests for today. They see the threat as neutralized, but will want to ensure any portal gets dismantled.”
“But the how and who is yet to be determined.”
The Blank shot me a finger-gun and fired. Bullseye.
[Do you have anyone else you would like to shoot, while you still have the chance, Eric?]
I clucked my tongue and chose to ignore his repeated jabs. Let him have his fun. He’d tire of it soon enough. Just as I was going through my mental list of potential enemies than needed ticking off and erasing from existence, a beep signaled through my phone.
Couldn’t be the Org, and Rodney was right here. Pearl? I patted around my pockets before finding it wedged down the side of the recliner. Of course—I couldn’t take it into Hell with me. I mashed at the screen like a caveman to reveal the glow of who could be bothering me at whatever hour this was.
It is time. I can send David to you tomorrow. C.
The exorcist from the Church. In all the post-calamity relaxation, I had almost forgotten some of the gritty details of the event. Friends in divine places. That might be a stretch of the word, but a small sect was willing to hear me out and accept that I was the Last Lantern.
I replied with the affirmative.
“The Church is sending someone here tomorrow.” My eyebrows raised as I let them both in on the secret.
Rodney groaned. Wight looked impassive, as usual.
[The one who fixed your skull?]
“Yeah. David. I trust him.” The rest of them, not so much. They knew what I was, and the Org did not—so there was some juggling I needed to do—but they were perhaps a key to understanding more of my divine powers.
“This isn’t going to end up with us cleaning blood from the carpets again, is it?” Rodney looked less than pleased at hosting guests tomorrow.
“No.” I clicked my fingers. “That reminds me, though. Let’s go to the nightclub, Wight?”
[Is this what they call a mid-life crisis?]
Rodney snorted, and I shot him a glare.
[The Rodney has been providing me with literature to increase my understanding of human nature.]
My glare intensified as the true reason for his snark was revealed. “Oh, is that right?”
He gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged, tapping at his earring, which pulsed white again. “Education is important. You going to hop back into Hell then?”
“Set the destination, Wight.” I relented to going with the flow. My reserves weren’t back to full, but I had enough in the tank to stay balanced and deal with anything that might be amongst the wreck of the building. Another place I had ruined twice on previous outings. Going back through our greatest hits.
Wight hopped down from his chair and went to prod at the destination runes.
“I’m not usually one to encourage you to do more than you need to… but it’s a nice distraction from the fact that the Church is coming tomorrow.”
I grunted as I stood to my feet. Adjusted my clothing and relaxed into my ageing bones. Goddamn literature. “David is a good kid. He’s about your age, I reckon. No threat, I promise.”
“Yeah, well…” Rodney wrinkled up his nose and tapped at his screen. “Better the devil you know, and all that.”
With a grin, I shook my head. If I knew any devils, I killed them. Better the devil be dead. I frowned at my own inner monologue. Perhaps I was losing my touch? The light of the portal spooling up illuminated my glasses and drew my attention.
[I’m ready when you are, the old man.]
I closed my eyes. A couple of seconds and that phrase was long forgotten. Stay sane, Eric. With a smile, I opened them back up and stepped forward into the portal.
Amber light and the slightest warm breeze passed through my clothing as I looked upon endless plains of rock and sand. As was tradition, I turned around to see the target.
“Huh.”
Wight pooled in beside me and pulled his knife from my belt.
[Unexpected, Eric?]
“Perhaps.” They had rebuilt it. A large, looming building that we were at the back of. Small red exit at the back, just like when we had met the crocs. In fact, were it not for my very clear memories of this location, it looked as though I’d never been here on a destructive path several times before.
“Are things just destined to be unchanging here?”
[Maybe things can be balanced, even here.]
I rolled my eyes and gestured for us to go down the small hill to the building.
//Audio and visual clear.
“Confirmed.”
//Place is dense with hostiles, naturally. Passage is picking up three known and wanted targets.
Interesting. We hadn’t really come into a good use for his patron’s ability to reference the Org database in this way. An actual way to earn extra credit, if we could get proof we offed them. Beats my usual unpaid overtime.
[How do you want to approach this, Eric?]
I looked down at my patron, who was glaring up at me earnestly. There were several ways, of course. Last time, I had used Entropy and leveled the gigantic structure in a pile of bodies and ash. That would be so underwhelming to repeat. I could also core a hole in the wall with Cannon and then rip and tear until everything was dead. Certainly would be good exercise.
Instead, I tipped my hat at the bird-demon and look down the side of the building.
“I’m thinking we get the VIP treatment, this time.”