As James led his small army of monsters to confront the newcomers, he saw dozens of faces, and sensed dozens more pairs of eyes, looking down at them curiously from the apartments they passed.

Even after the violence of the previous day and night, the citizens were interested in watching the Fisher King and his army march to meet the intruders.

On the faces that were not obscured by apartment shadows, he detected a mixture of emotions. But the predominant one was curiosity.

The Mole People and Goblins usually stayed underground rather than marching around at ground level as they did now. Samuel and Ysabel’s people had remained living in their original territories for the time being.

Most of the onlookers had never seen any of his monsters besides the former Rulers and perhaps a few members of the wolf pack—who were still in the area near the new arrivals.

A few people looked proud, as if they were enjoying the martial display.

And there were other faces that displayed some level of fear or apprehension. James was reminded that for most of them, monsters were a nightmare they thought they had left behind in Orientation. Now that they were in a supposedly safe place, it might be unsettling for them to see the creatures that were supposed to be helping to upkeep that security.

I might have expected this, if I gave more thought toward public opinion.

He thought about making some sort of public service announcement with his Fisher King powers, then shook his head.

Now is not the time. I shouldn’t use that power just to give my opinions about things. I should be announcing facts every time. That way, I don’t diminish my own credibility, and people will take every announcement seriously. When there’s an invasion or something, they’ll be able to react more effectively if they know to listen to the voice coming from the sky. I’ll have to fix the problem of them being afraid of their nonhuman fellow citizens later—assuming it’s even amenable to being fixed.

He made a note to himself to make some gestures toward stronger human-monster solidarity within the Kingdom. He was still a little vague on what those would be, but more intergroup contacts seemed like the most logical first step. Assuming those could be carried out peacefully, that should teach his citizens not to fear each other, at least.

Then he and the monsters were out of sight range of the apartment dwellers, moving quickly toward the visitors where they remained, per James’s Fisher King senses, in place.

I wonder what they’re doing over there. He thought he sensed that they were sitting on the ground, but he recognized he might be capable of getting a clearer picture. His powers over his territory were growing every day now, after all. If I just close my eyes, I might be able to see them…

Then James felt the almost scorching heat on the back of his ear from where Hester sat, and he knew that she must have received a divine message. He immediately put away the thought of spying on the new arrivals, for the moment.

Not for the first time, he wondered how harmful it was to Hester to be in contact with Anansi, given that the heat of her body at the moment of getting a transmission was slightly painful even for him.

“Hey Hester, you all right up there?” he asked in a quiet voice intended only for her.

“I am—” She let out a long breath that seemed to him to convey great pain—“fine, thank you, sir.”

You don’t sound fine. He wondered if bringing that up would only mock her resolve. It had been Hester’s decision to live and die to facilitate the relationship between James and Anansi. A way for her to secure a form of immortality for herself, as part of James’s legend.

“A new message from the Spider God, then,” James said, burying his concerns for now.

“Yes!” Her tone brightened instantly. “This is an important one, I think. Lord Anansi informs you that there are a large share of humans with divine blessings of one kind or another in the group we are on our way to meet.”

“What’s a normal share of people with divine blessings?” James asked curiously.

“Low level blessings, anywhere from one in fifty to one in a hundred. Higher level blessings, closer to one in a hundred thousand or one in a million, moving out toward one in several billion if we talk about a Chosen One blessing from a high tier god.”

“That is interesting…”

Where does Anansi rank, then? By extension, where do I rank?

“Before you ask, Lord Anansi does not know which gods they received blessings from,” Hester continued. “He has less access to information on things going on now that you are out of Orientation. That is the typical way of things for the gods. Only the most powerful of them could possibly intervene in a newly integrated universe beyond blessing some humans and performing some basic scrying like what he’s doing.”

That’s good. I don’t want any more divine intervention on Earth, after everything Moloch did—plus that god that blessed the Wendigos. I have things well enough under control that I have no reason to put my fate into the hands of beings I don’t trust.

“Well, I appreciate the information,” James replied. “How large a share of the visitors have blessings?”

“Expect one in four or one in five to be blessed.”

Sounds like a hell of a lot!

“No other information?” James asked hopefully.

“The blessings are either low level from a more powerful god, or high level from a less powerful god than Lord Anansi, based on the divine signature he observes.”

“Okay, that’s very helpful. Thank you, Hester!”

“Just trying to do my part,” she said modestly, clearly trying to conceal the distinct pride she felt.

James was going to say something more to encourage her—he knew how much Hester was sacrificing by carrying messages between himself and Anansi, and “Thank you” seemed a very inadequate recompense—but he suddenly sensed a figure in his peripheral vision. He instinctively turned to look—and Goblin Overlord Duncan meekly waved from around five feet away.

He isn’t as close as I would’ve thought just now. I guess my senses are getting sharper over time. Another thing to get used to.

He made a note to himself to do something for Hester later. Reward her in some way. Make her more directly a part of his legend somehow beyond simply telling people that she was the spider who connected him to Anansi.

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But for the moment, he focused on Duncan, who looked like he wanted to say something.

“Hello Duncan,” James said, when the Goblin appeared to be taking some time deciding what he wanted to say—or working up the courage to speak.

“Hello Your Majesty,” Duncan said, bowing slightly. He stepped in closer. “On behalf of all of us Goblins, I just wanted to thank you for bringing us along on this—” He stopped and stared James in the eyes, then slowly resumed speaking. “Um, I just wanted to thank you for bringing us as part of your welcoming party for this new group—and in case you need to fight them.” The small figure puffed out his chest, but he was so short that it looked slightly comical.

“Of course,” James said. “You are an essential part of my kingdom.” Which I need to acknowledge more often, I suppose, if this feels like such a big, significant gesture. “Do you mind my asking, why were you staring at me just now? Did you see something on my face?”

James recalled that his family had also looked at him strangely back when he ran into them in the Haunted Forest, only to say that there would be time to discuss whatever it was later.

“Oh, um, I meant no offense,” Duncan said.

“None was taken,” James said.

“I just love what you have done with your eyes. You still look human, but now you have the air of being something more, even from a purely visual standpoint. Of course, those of us under your rule have long known that you are no ordinary person.”

“Why, thank you,” James replied, not missing a beat.

“They really are striking,” Duncan continued, leaning into the flattery now that it seemed to be hitting home. “I can only imagine the intimidation you might inflict on our enemies. And just from eye contact!”

James chuckled and waved his hand dismissively, as if he was too modest to accept the compliment.

What the hell happened to my eyes? he wondered. They’re more intimidating and striking, and they make me look more than human? How? I haven’t done anything to them.

He waited until Duncan had finished speaking, thanked him again for coming along, and then quietly took his phone out from his magic satchel. Thanks to the bag’s properties, the phone maintained a charge despite James not having plugged it in since before Orientation.

In order to preserve the battery life, and because most of its functions were disabled, he was not using it very often, though he sometimes missed being able to listen to music that was saved to the phone’s drive.

This time, he simply used it as a black screen at first. Yeah, my eyes look a little different, but it’s hard to say how.

He quickly swiped and turned the camera on. His eyes widened as he saw his own reflection.

My face is pretty different post-Evolution—and at some point, my eyes changed color!

They were pretty, he assessed. A striking pair of golden eyes that made him look, as Duncan had said, more than human.

Is it just me, or are they glowing slightly?

James could not be certain if it was real, or if the rising sun’s rays just made everything that was caught under them appear a sort of glowing golden orange color.

He shook his head. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

You realize why your eyes changed, right? The voice of Soul Eater Orb Roscuro chimed in from his place in the form of a bracelet currently worn on James’s right wrist.

No, James replied, but I assume you're going to tell me.

Because you consumed Sister Strange, Roscuro replied. Somehow, you absorbed the ethereal form of a bodiless spirit into your physical vessel. You maniac.

Despite the slightly mocking tone of Roscuro’s reply, James could sense the Soul Eater was somewhat impressed underneath it.

James could have guessed that his consumption of Sister Strange had caused the change. What he did not know was how his consumption of a spiritual entity had changed his physical body and what the change indicated.

So, what do the golden eyes mean? he asked. Am I getting indigestion?

I really could not say, Roscuro replied. I have never heard of someone doing something like this. I honestly did not think it was possible. Congratulations on becoming a sort of pioneer!

Now James detected an undercurrent of nervousness.

What are you worried about? James sent bluntly.

The Soul Eater paused for a moment, then replied, I have no way of knowing if your body can handle having a spiritual creature’s components inside of it. You might destroy yourself, body and soul. Since I am bound to your soul, that would also destroy me. There is nothing to be done for it now, though.

Jesus, James thought to himself. I had no idea I was doing something so risky. Some instinct had called to him and told him that eating Sister Strange was possible—and would only make him more powerful. I’ve eaten so many monsters that it’s just normal to me now. If I had even conceived that this might be different…

James slipped into a wordless worry, as he imagined worst case scenarios in the event of his death. The murder of his wife was already seemingly prophesied, and who was to say the rest of his family would be safe if James was taken from them too soon? These thoughts pained him as much as a stab in the chest.

He sent nothing back to Roscuro, nor did the Soul Eater try to follow up on his prediction of danger. The two simply lapsed into a glum silence, each preoccupied with the possibility of their mutual destruction.

James remained grimly silent as he crossed into the outer parts of his territory, and the new arrivals came into view.

The first visual impression of them was striking. James’s Fisher King powers had told him they seemed to be sitting down, resting perhaps. That impression was not quite accurate.

The newcomers were in a similar posture to what James had imagined, but all of the newcomers were on their knees, eyes closed, faces turned toward the sky.

They appeared to be praying.

James’s jaw tightened.

This had better not be another goddamned cult, he thought. If they’re Moloch worshippers, I’ll wipe them out right here without letting them get any further into the Kingdom…

As James and his entourage stepped in closer, the man at the head of the formation—the newcomers were spread in a triangular shape, with a single person at the front and a larger group in the back—opened his eyes.

He and James met each other’s gazes, and James read a flurry of emotions as they passed over the man’s face.

Joy, surprise, fear, resignation.

Then there was control.

A closed face, revealing nothing.

James noticed a cross around the leader’s neck, and he relaxed a bit. It reminded him of Yulia, who he had driven to church once a week in the pre-System days.

Why did I jump to cult? he asked himself. Am I just turning cynical? A supermajority of Americans were Christians before the System. The most dangerous thing about them was that they might give you a strongly worded pamphlet, or maybe vocally disapprove of your lifestyle.

James raised an arm and signaled for his monsters to stay in their current position.

Then he began to walk across the short distance to meet the man who led this apparent religious community.

While everyone else knelt, the leader rose, dusted off his knees, and prepared to greet the Fisher King.