It was 14:00 on a Saturday. The morning had been hectic and so had last night.

Kreig still hadn’t quite come to understand what was happening or what the fallout of this situation would be, but for now, both of his siblings had assured him that everything would be alright. Darius had visited him and they had talked for an hour or so. Even Gerald had shown up.

But right now, they weren’t at home or anywhere else cosy. Instead, they were at Space Circle Avenue, inside the police station to the side of it. Outside the sliding glass doors was a podium, and beyond that, a crowd mainly composed of reporters. It was amazing that so many international news representatives had been able to arrive within such quick notice, but that’s the tenacity of journalists for you.

Speaking of journalists, Jay was not there. She was currently at her home, talking to a specially trained officer while being protected by a number of Fighters. According to her testimony - what Sam had told Kreig so far, at least - she had been given most of the information by an unknown organization that had somehow slipped under IOCRO’s radar. But no longer. With Jay's help, they hoped to uncover it.

Jay herself remained in a state of great shame. Kreig understood her very well. After all, he, too, had made quite a few mistakes.

Mistakes that were now the main course for all those reporters out there.

Kreig felt nervous. He could be fully honest about that. He couldn’t remember enjoying attention since the fall of the theocracy. A hand squeezed his and he looked over at one of the other people sitting in the police station’s waiting area. Erica smiled reassuringly at him. He smiled back at her. “You know, you don’t have to talk. It’s okay to just sit here and let us do all the talking. I promise not to misrepresent your character!”

Kreig shook his head. “This is something I need to do. I cannot place all of my worries on your backs.”

Erica shrugged and glanced over to the other people in the room. Darius, Sam, Gerald, Mrs Willowgrove, Craig… Witnesses to explain that Kreig was of no harm.

During the night, the news spread across the world in a matter of hours. The reach was impressive, though some countries chose to focus more on Celebrity B who had recently had a baby with a surprising lover. Kreig tried not to think too much about it. According to George, IOCRO would work day and night to make sure that the news published would at least retain some form of truth to them.

IOCRO as an organization had already made a few statements regarding Kreig’s existence. For one, they had decided not to deny it. Knowing that their enemy had immense reach, the act of denying Kreig’s existence would likely have immense consequences to weaken the public's trust in IOCRO. It was all pretty complex, but the situation right now was simply that those people close to Kreig would make their own statements and hope for the mercy of the crowds. People were always eager to pull down those up high, even if that height was a mirage.

And so, Kreig sat there, waiting patiently for someone to tell him to go up and talk. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t gotten any sleep yesterday. Of course, he didn’t physically need it, but he had learnt to - much like eating - enjoy the human act of slumber.

Outside, he saw how George spoke to the reporters, answering various questions. If Kreig strained his attention, he could make out what they were saying.

“-No reason for any sort of panic. We are currently taking every precaution and have been for six months. In this time, Kreig has made impressive improvements…”

Not wanting to hear people talk all that much about himself, Kreig zoned out again. Exhaustion of an old sort clawed at the back of his eyes. Just a short nap wouldn’t hurt.

His eyes fell close. In the darkness of his own mind, he saw a spirit of white.

It smiled at him, but Kreig took the smile as quite wry. “Oracle,” the spirit greeted.

Silently, Kreig placed his fist to his chest. “Greetings, oh white one.”

The spirit's smile broadened slightly and it waved an aetherial hand. “None of that, Oracle. Let us speak as equals.” Quietly, the spirit sat down cross-legged on the blackness of sleep. Following suit, Kreig sat next to it. “Of all my friends, you are the most long-lived.” Kreig watched it silently, unsure what to make of it. “Indeed, I had expected your mind to end long ago. And yet, you have persevered.”

“Without you, that would surely have been the case.”

The spirit hummed softly. “I can’t be too sure, Oracle. You seem to have a habit of surprising me.” The spirit stretched out its legs comfortably. It turned to Kreig and their eyes of white met. “You will not forget me, Oracle?”

“No,” Kreig answered.

“You promise to give a thought to me from time to time?” the spirit asked quietly.

“Yes,” Kreig responded.

The spirit nodded, its smile warm and content. “Then, that is all I want.” It placed an arm around Kreig’s broad shoulders. “May your days be long and your love endless.”

In the endless night of Kreig’s mind, the sun rose gallantly.

Kreig opened his eyes and found Erica hunched down on the floor, looking up at him. He blinked at her and she smiled brightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep before. Do divine humans sleep?”

Kreig wasn’t sure how to answer. “They have no need for it, but…”

Erica finished the sentence for him. “-But sleep is divine so you do it anyway?”

A spirit of white lingered in his mind. “...I suppose so.”

An officer leaned inside the waiting room and called out. Gerald stood up, appearing suitably nervous. He flashed Darius a look, who gave him a thumbs up and a smile. With that, Gerald seemed to have regained some form of confidence. But before he left to get eaten alive by reporters, he stopped by Kreig. They smiled at each other, no words needing to be exchanged.

Gerald was a good lad. One day he would surely grow into a just and able man. If he kept this up, he would surely shrug off the shackles that Kreig had never been able to remove. But for now, all he had to deal with was the flashes of cameras and gazing cyclops-eyes of video cameras.

Kreig listened absently as Gerald explained his life, from beginning to present. How he first met Kreig, how he felt at the time, and how such an accidental meeting had led him to a place such as this. Finally, bearing his heart before the audience, he presented Kreig’s painting of the two of them. Kreig smiled, remembering both how long it had taken him to paint the thing and how Gerald had asked him, just an hour or so ago, if it would be okay for him to present it. Of course, since it was Gerald’s painting, Kreig had no objections.

Towards the end, questions started being flung at him, most of which he answered courageously. Kreig hoped he might be able to act in a similarly composed manner, but knowing his own tendency to get tongue-tied, chances were that he might instead flounder on stage.

Erica pressed his hand again. When had she picked up a telepathy skill?

Gerald finished. Next was Darius, who spoke of his experiences as Kreig’s therapist and observant with rigorous confidentiality. He revealed nothing unnecessary, keeping only to what he himself had felt without breaking client confidentiality. Of course, many reporters attempted to make him reveal things he had no business revealing, but he shut them down thoroughly. When the questions became too numerous, he became entirely silent and stepped away.

Since Sam had already spoken earlier, her main point being that ‘he’s a great cook so please have mercy’, the next one up was Erica. She looked at the glass doors for a few seconds before turning back to Kreig. Her eyebrows were slightly pinched together. A stray strand of hair lay across her face. Kreig brushed it behind her ear. She smiled and stood up.

“You’ll listen closely, won’t you?”

“Only if you want me to,” Kreig said. Both of her hands took a gentle hold of his face. She smiled and gave him a quick little kiss.

“Bye-bye!” she said as she waved and left through the door. Kreig waved back at her, suddenly feeling desolate and alone. But as he sat there, unsure of what to do, the rest of the people in the waiting room silently moved over to sit by him. With that, he relaxed. They didn’t need to say anything and he didn’t need to hear anything. The only thing he wanted to listen to at that moment was Erica’s sweet voice on the other side of the door.

Her voice was bright and cheerful, speaking of her experiences in a narrative sense, explaining how she had experienced this and that. Included in these little stories were jokes and dramatic reenactments of their meetings. “‘Family,’ he said, and I was like, ‘How am I supposed to understand that? What does that even mean?’ And since I thought he was totally a criminal or a mafia man or whatever I led him to the police station. He gave the place one good look and then went, ‘No green.’ No green?! Buddy, look at all this green!”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Kreig smiled to himself. He had changed quite a bit, hadn’t he? She, too, was a completely different woman.

The reporters seemed to enjoy her storytelling, as quite a few gave subdued laughter at her jokes. By the end, she excitedly answered questions, pointing broadly at whoever held up a hand or a pen. Though, of course, many questions left her quite red in the face.

And then her part ended and she left the stage, entering the waiting room again. Kreig watched her, feeling a strange emotion settle in his gut.

Erica ran to him and Kreig stood up to catch her in his arms. “I did well, right? Some of them laughed really loudly!”

Kreig nodded mechanically. “Of course. You were amazing.” Unlike how he would be in a few minutes time. Yes, as happy as he was for Erica, it simply could not overshadow his sudden feeling of dread. But it would be fine, wouldn’t it? All he had to do was explain his side and answer a few questions. After that, everything would go back to normal. As normal as things could be, at least.

“Kreig Wiedermann, you’re up,” an officer shouted.

Erica turned back to Kreig and their eyes met. “You’ll do great,” she said confidently and gave him a peck on the cheek. “After all, you’re Kreig Wiedermann!”

He nodded again. If she said so, then it must be true. With a heavy heart, he moved towards the door. He glanced over at the others in the room. Sam, Darius, Gerald… There was no doubt in their eyes. He would do well.

But what if he didn’t?

Mouth suddenly dry, he walked to the door with slow, anxious strides.

Maybe he should just leave this to someone else. There were plenty of people who could recount his life history much better than he ever could. There was really no reason for him to do it personally.

Or, well, there was. One tiny little reason for why he had to do this.

It was his duty. As a man, he had to take responsibility for himself and who he was. A second-hand story could never be him. Only he could do this. And that was why he did it.

His heart pounded in his ears. The doors opened and the gazes of thousands met him. When had he last been met with this many frightened eyes? It must have been six months ago, the last moment in the otherworld, where an army faced him under the red skies.

The sky began to shift in colour and Kreig squeezed his eyes shut. He breathed slowly, carefully, just as Darius had taught him. And when he opened his eyes again, the red was gone. He stood on certain stone, not insidious mud. He stepped up to the podium.

You could hear a feather drop. It was completely silent. Nobody made a single movement. No, on closer inspection, a few brave souls trembled, their mouths floundering open at something unseen.

“I-,” Kreig was interrupted by a nearby officer pointing towards the small mic on the podium. The crowd held their breaths. Kreig nodded and moved closer to the mic, feeling a little stupid. “I would like to greet all of those who have travelled all night. You have my sympath-,” he wasn’t able to finish his sentence before a camera flashed, the snap of it unnaturally loud in the inhuman silence of the crowd. Kreig tried not to react. “Wel-,” Realizing he wouldn’t do anything to them, a hundred cameras began snapping and flashing all at once, blinding him even though it was midday.

He felt woozy and bad. But if he just grit his teeth and gripped the edges of the podium, then…

Wood splintered in his hands but he ignored it. Slowly, the snapping receded to an acceptable level. He took a deep breath. “I-, I am assured that the lot of you know my name by now, but I shall repeat it regardless. My name is Kreig Wiedermann, and much like you, I am a human. Perhaps my race frightens you. Perhaps I do not appear as human to you, but I will assure you that inside, I am as human as any one of you.”

A hand reached up even though he hadn’t gotten to telling his story yet. Uncertain, he glanced over to one of the many nearby officers, but none met his gaze. He gulped and pointed at the raised hand. “Yes?...”

The man had to shout quite loudly to be heard, but he said, “Do you have any plans for world conquest?”

Kreig blinked slowly. “World conque-, why would I…” He shook his head and leaned closer to the microphone. “I have no intentions of conquering the world. Ruling never appealed to me.”

A few hundred pens began scribbling on papers. Kreig had never felt so observed. Just as he was about to continue his life story, another hand flew up. He pointed at it, hoping it wasn’t as strange as the last.

“Why did you return?”

Why did people come with such weird questions? “There was no choice to be made as I was more or less cast back here. If I knew that this had been a possibility, I would have attempted to return much sooner.”

But with this, more people realized that he would accept questions. Assuming that he, therefore, had no story to tell, more and more hands flew up. Not wanting to disappoint them, Kreig let each of them ask their questions in turn. Each question was stranger than the last, “Can you drive a car?” “Why don’t you wear that armour all the time?” “How does an increased level make you taller?”

Kreig answered each question as best as he could, but in many cases, it was a simple matter of yes or no.

And then, as the fleshes died down and people had no more questions to ask, Kreig began to tell his side of the story. It was a tale he had told before, and not one he took joy in reliving. Especially his time in the north was a great source of unhappiness, but even then he attempted his best to faithfully explain not only what happened but also how it felt. That latter part was important since Jay had only written the direct recounting of his life. Only pure facts. This was what Kreig now had to supplement, as hard as it was.

Right there on stage, he opened up. His voice was clear and his back was straight.

Silence had once again descended on the crowd.

“...It is a fortune I had been distracted enough not to kill him, as his death would have been a great loss for many, including myself.” In the wake of his speech, silence reigned.

And then, slowly, a man began to clap. It was a tawny sound that echoed blandly across the populace, but soon, another joined in. And yet another.

It was not applause of the sort left after a concert, neither could it be called a standing ovation. Not a single person whooped or whistled or shouted. It was simply the sort of applause one received at the ceremony of being given a medal. A recognition of hardship and trial. Not one that begged for seconds, but rather one that hoped no such thing would happen again.

Kreig accepted it with an open mouth and wide eyes.

Flustered, he left the stage. And that was the last appearance Kreig made before any camera. Not to say that he didn’t get any requests, of course not. Over the course of a single week, he got hundreds of emails and phone calls and letters, all asking for him to appear on this or that show or the like. Some were more innocuous; young students wanting to interview Kreig Wiedermann for a better grade. Others wanted to see what he could do by putting him in a game show.

Kreig refused all such summons. He was busy winding down from the crowd of reporters.

As a matter of fact, these people were still trying to get to him. Since Jay had hoped to doxx him fully, quite a few articles included his current place of residence. Any reporter nosy enough could easily get a hold of it, leading to there being quite a big crowd of reporters right outside his apartment every day.

They couldn’t get in since it was protected, but anytime Sam or George left or Erica entered, they tried to get in contact somehow. This was all in spite of IOCRO trying to dissuade people and journalists from doing this very thing.

Kreig never had to leave the apartment since his job at Painstone was temporarily on hold. Still, he didn’t quite like it.

But as the days passed, fewer and fewer reporters stood outside. The few that attempted to remain were eventually shooed away by IOCRO’s officers.

Time passed. Kreig’s existence was eventually overshadowed by some new, great disaster to talk about, and they couldn’t keep their eyes on him forever.

Some people made an attempt to escape the city, of course, but for the most part, his presence was seen as acceptable. His sympathetic speech at the conference had won over many, but even more were swayed by what those close to him had to say. As always, there were a number of people who had everything and nothing to say about it, complaining about how he was allowed to go free or pleading that they should place him in a portal and send him back. But the tides turned, and eventually, they too grew more interested in other matters.

During that time, the Painstone International High School was in a bit of an uproar. Some made a great big hassle about getting the walking nuke out of there, others simply left entirely. But the majority were largely positive to Kreig. The simple fact was that they liked him. He’d made many friends among them and despite being quite frightening at first glance, the students had eventually warmed up to him. While the teachers and principal of Painstone ummed and aahed over the future of the school, some invested students made a petition to reinstate the beloved PE teacher. As always, a counter-petition was made, but when these two were stacked up against each other, there was a clear winner.

After two months on leave, Kreig was reinstated as P.E teacher. And he was all the happier for it. Some worried parents made their students leave the school, but after a few months, things calmed down.

Kreig’s life returned to normalcy.

At school, he and Erica became a known couple to the point where Erica simply couldn’t work without a morning kiss from Kreig. In his free time, Kreig decided to start painting portraits. He had no interest in making money off of them, but at Erica’s suggestion, he became a street artist of sorts, painting quick little paintings of anyone who bothered to sit down for a while. He would charge them an incredibly tawny price, and they would leave, happy with a new heirloom.

Like this, he slowly became something of a town figure. Since his appearance was quite striking, there was no question of who had made the painting. Of course, such a situation would invariably lead to some greedy individuals buying and selling his paintings at exorbitant prices, but Kreig didn’t mind. The vast majority of those who sat before him had only good intentions in mind.

After half a year or so, Kreig and Erica moved together. During that same time, George Wiedermann had quickly become George Aardwyre during a wedding ceremony Kreig couldn’t remember ever seeing before.

But don’t think that Sam was left alone in her little apartment. On the contrary, she found herself a little patrolman who smiled at her in the corridor, and together they became quite happy together, to the point that they even had Kreig paint their picture one bright spring morning.

On the other side of the city, Gerald lived happily with his adoptive parents. He, too, had been pestered by quite a few reporters, but his overprotective fathers had easily shooed them away, leaving him to indulge in his new favourite pastime: art. Digital art, to be precise. It was simple and it was far from the level Kreig was at, but he enjoyed it, and that was it.

Jay, on the other hand, felt quite low for a few weeks. The one who nursed her back to health was her dear mother, who stayed at her side throughout. How was this possible? Well, as it so happened, Erica was able to help Mrs Crooks receive a bit of welfare. Not enough to support them fully, but enough to let her work at something that paid better and wasn’t quite so dehumanizing. For Jay’s part, she seemed to see the entire world through new eyes. And it wasn’t just Kreig.

Her own mother had worked herself half to death for her. That realization hit quite hard, leaving her reeling for days. But like mothers so often do, she forgave her. At that moment, Jay decided that she would work hard to become a journalist that she could be proud of. One that would provide for her poor mother into elderly life.

A year passed quietly.

On the bridge where they had first met, Kreig proposed to Erica with a little ring he had made himself. They married happily in the late summer.

Jay, despite her many mistakes, slowly grew into a vigilant and determined woman. She retained her willingness to work hard and make sacrifices for what she believed in, but with a reality-check that almost cost her her life, she had learnt to see the world in shades of grey, making the proper decisions when they came instead of simply charging ahead. With this newfound maturity, she made up with Annie and Gerald. With a proper apology, the three became good friends again, even though they all went to different colleges.

Gerald went on to become a freelance animator while Jay, after much trial and tribulation, became the journalist she had always wanted to be. Her mother couldn’t be prouder.

Annie had followed in Gerald’s footsteps as a creative person, though she chose instead to become an author and scriptwriter, happily working together with Gerald on his creative projects. With Jay at their back, all of their creative efforts had great success and they eventually chose to make their close partnership an official one.

And Mrs Willowgrove? Well, although she had her beloved cat, she was still quite starved for social connection. And so, she formed a little group for parents who had lost their children in the portals. In this group, she made contact with a widower in a similar situation. They married not shortly thereafter, and both of their cats got along great.

For Christmas, all of these people got together very happily, though each new person’s first meeting with Kreig was always a little awkward. Still, once they got to know him, none could deny his charm.

And a few days after Christmas, while everyone else celebrated their things, Kreig spent a little time to give thanks to his own God, whom he never forgot.

Years passed slowly and happily. Kreig and Erica had two children, a boy and a girl. And one day, when those children were a little older, they brought them to the otherworld museum in the next city over, where they let them have a peek at their daddy’s armour, kept all neat and tidy in a glass case. The armour was a pearly white, something Kreig had only achieved after washing it many, many times.

And one day, after so much time had passed, Jay would approach Kreig, and on that day, the first and last interview of Kreig Wiedermann would be made.

And through it all, there was nothing to be complained of.

Kreig had returned, and for that he was happy.

That was all he needed.

The End