Renan allowed the curtain to slide back into place. “It’s a man. Tall, dark-skinned. Fighter. How do you want to handle this?”

“See what he wants?” Ana asked. His sisters wore their armor, the strange white constructs radiating the power of their joined Evolution.

“And how do you recommend we do that?” he asked blithely.

“Ask.” His father lifted an eyebrow at his look.

Renan shook his head. “Fine, fine. Let’s not make sure we don’t get killed. Smart.”

“He’s one man. It will be fine,” Sybil said, bent over a weapon. Her Evolution slowly layered power around it.

“Be safe,” his mother said on the other side. “Just be safe.”

Renan sighed and cracked the window in front of him, leaning out to look down at the man. “Hey,” he said, “can I help you?” His voice carried with it the power of his Evolution.

The man frowned. “Ask without the Evolution.”

Renan kept any expression from his face. Most people couldn’t sense his Evolution. This was dangerous.

“Of course, friend. You know the times, however. I can’t be too trusting. So let me ask you again: why are you here?”

“Are you Renan Shor?”

“I am.”

The man scratched his head and looked around. “Your brother sent me. He wants you to come to a safe place. The ARA knows you are in the city.”

Renan searched his words with another of his Evolutions, Truthtell. The man wasn’t lying, it seemed, but there were ways around the Evolution. He decided to play things cautiously.

“Do you have proof of that?”

“I do.”

Renan blinked. “What is it?”

“I’ll slip it under this door. It’s a note. Don’t know what it says. Make it fast, though. We don’t have much time.”

His sister retrieved the paper, and Renan read it, decoding it as he went. It was indeed Grey.

“Let him in,” he said to Ana.

“I’m Zion.” The man stood awkwardly in the small kitchen of the place they had hidden out in. “We need to leave soon. Your brother believed the ARA would show up soon to take you.”

A knock came from below. Silence swept the room.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed,” Renan said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. They most likely have encircled the building and will soon enter. That means we’ll have to fight or talk our way free, but Grey’s note said they were mind-controlled, meaning my Evolution is nearly useless. So we fight, but intelligently. We need someone to take the heat while the rest of us flee.”

His sister Mandy opened her mouth, but Zion spoke first. “Did the note tell you where to go?”

“Yes.”

Zion sighed. “I’ll meet you all there, then.” He started to walk down the stairs.

“Why are you doing this?”

He looked up. “To save my sister.”

Darkness seemed to coalesce around him, hardening into a sleek set of armor. A helm that resembled the head of a wolf formed around the man’s head, its purple eyes gleaming. A black longsword formed in his hand. Then he disappeared from view. The door crashed a moment later, screams coming soon after.

Renan exchanged a look with his family. “I think that’s our cue.”

---

Zion wasn’t dumb, or at least, he didn’t believe he was. Grey Shor was making him rethink his assessment, however. He had picked his side when he decided to help the man, but a part of him had thought there would be nothing to it, nothing that would firmly place him as an enemy to the ARA. That it might come to violence was always a possibility. He just had naively believed it wouldn’t.

Then the ARA had come calling, and he realized the truth. Grey had told him this would happen. Had told him that he couldn’t reveal his hand. That’s why he had convinced Zion to do it. He wanted to back him into a corner, to make him firmly choose a side and not look back.

All of this for Allona. All of this for his family. It was worth it, he told himself, the armor of Hell’s Beast solidifying around him. The power flooded into him, and the world slowed down. His sword materialized in his hand. Long. Deadly. Heavy. He could feel his blood rise with it, the battle fury roaring in forefront of his mind.

Yes, it was worth it. He would swim in a sea of blood for his family. He would kill the men, kill monsters, kill the gods. The Tutorial had shown him how fleeting life was. It was time for him to spread its gospel.

The door to the building shattered. Beyond it stood several humans, their faces twisting in his armor’s sight. The darkness rose in him, overwhelmed him. He let it. The men became demons, grotesque monsters with blades for limbs.

One launched a gout of fire at him. He charged through it. Cut the demon’s arm, mangled it. The beast fell. His boot came down and splattered its head against the concrete. His head shot up. More demons.

He roared at them. Two broke off towards him, their blade-arms glinting in the sunlight. He shouldered into one, opened his jaws, and snapped into its neck. There was no armor. It was him.

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His blade clanged against the second demon’s. They met once, twice, his sword sweeping through on the third and severing a head. Crushed a chest. Then he was past it, a lance of blue energy stabbing into his chest. He laughed, a croaking, cracked thing that passed his metal jaws.

He was in their midst, his blade carving through them. Pain pinged on all sides. He listened to it, loved it. Each pang told him where the next enemy was. Where the next corpse was.

He ripped a sword arm free and launched it into the chest of another demon. An energy attacked his mind. His rage burned through it. The street was wet now, and he stumbled over one corpse to make another. The demons were dwindling now. Some ran. Others tried to fight, but he was Hell’s Beast.

There was no fighting, only death.

He tossed his head back and summoned another of his Evolutions. Howl filled the air, drawing the attention of his enemies and filling him with more strength. Always more. Those who ran turned now, compelled. A few would shake it off when Jessica wrangled their minds. If they lived.

He leapt at them, snapping and killing like a fighting dog. He slipped, readjusted, and sent his blade into a skull. Dented it. The demon gibbered, made a gurgling noise. He brought his sword down again. Killed it.

A grunt escaped his lips. Wasn’t even words. Wasn’t anything. He killed and killed and killed. The demons had to die.

---

Renan ignored the butchering behind him and carried on down the street. His father led the way, having memorized a map of the city some days ago. His sisters, clad in their armor of shining ivory, danced on either side of their group, their curved swords warding off any monsters or men that might look to pursue. Sybil ran in front of him, while he led his mother by the hand, her jaw set firmly despite the madness behind her. He could only guess at what her look meant, but he believed it was determination to see her son once more. Such was the strength of mothers.

For a moment, he believed they had gotten away clean until Mandy deflected a red beam of plasma aimed at their father. A moment later, her sword seemed to uncurve and extend, a razor-edged whip. It flicked into an alleyway, eliciting a pained groan. Then more projectiles came, and Renan threw himself into a nearby doorway, the gun at his waist blowing a hole in its lock. He pushed his mother in before him and ducked into the empty building.

The others could handle themselves. His father could massively slow his perception and read the trajectory of moving things, and both his sisters and Cybil had combat Evolutions. His mother could only heal. It was a valuable Evolution, perhaps more so than the others, but it was not for combat.

A man in ephemeral armor stumbled through the door. Renan shoved his mother back as she tried to leap in front of him and raised his gun. Bam. It kicked in his hands. Bam. He flinched. Bam. All three bullets hit the armor and did nothing.

A glowing axe of light came down, and Renan threw himself back and onto his ass, scrambling into a table and holding his gun before him. His attacker advanced, raised his axe, and swung again.

A white tendril whipped around the weapon, sending it into the table beside Renan instead of his head. Another tendril wrapped around the man’s throat, pulling and crushing the ephemeral armor. It sliced through a moment later and took his head with it.

They fled the scene a moment later, his mother healing what wounds she could. Finally they reached the location Grey had indicated, a now abandoned gas station on the outskirts of town. A suit of armor waited for them, its head down.

Before Mandy could poke it with her sword, it looked up. “Shor family?”

“We are,” Renan said.

“Good.” It raised a fist to its chest in salute. “You may call me Tribune. I am an ally of Grey.”

“But you’re a-”

Renan spoke over his sister. “Wonderful. Can you take us to my brother?”

It shook its head. “No. My orders are to lead you to a safe house close to here.”

“And where is Grey?”

“I will tell you what I can,” it said after a moment. “Your brother is an enemy of the ARA, or more specifically, he is the enemy of one Jessica Wells, who dominates the ARA power structure with her mind control. Her authority within the city is absolute, and she has control over the other ARA cells through her uncle. His belief is that she intends to leverage public reception and instilled respect for governmental authority to take control over what remains of the nation known as the United States.”

“And…” Renan trailed off, his mind already running.

“And your brother is leading an army composed of Dungeon inhabitants to kill her and take the city.”

Renan observed his family’s reactions. His sisters looked surprised. Excited, too. His mother had concern within her eyes. His father seemed unperturbed, as did Sybil. It was about as he expected. He considered his own response in the meantime.

“Did he consider us to be in danger?”

“Yes,” the armor said. “Within the safehouse are instructions for each of you, as well as personal messages. Your questions should be answered there, though we must hurry.”

Renan looked at his family and laced his voice with his Evolution. “Grey’s fights have to be his own. We can’t risk ourselves to pull him from a mess he has prepared so thoroughly to dive headfirst into. At best, we’re a minor help. At worst, we’re hostages that force his hand. I say we go to the safe house, read what he has to say, and make a decision.”

Inwardly, he balked at receiving ‘instructions’ from his younger brother, but it was simply a matter of patience. His own plans would fair better under peace and diplomacy than war, so he simply had to hope his brother won. It was a risk he was willing to take.

---

Several Hours Prior,

Silence filled the great hall as Grey strode past his waiting soldiers, his eyes sharp. Examining. He occasionally asked for demonstrations, and when he was satisfied, he spared the Legate a brief nod.

“They will do,” he said.

“So you’re ready to move, then?”

“I am. Do you understand the plan?”

“Of course.”

Grey smiled. “Then yes, we shall begin.”

He turned to his army. And it was an army. Steel-clad soldiers stood alongside hulking rock golems and snarling wyvern-like creatures that occasionally crackled with electricity. The daemons and their monstrous undead moved towards another objective, but these were his fighters.

They were not loyal, save for the Steel Legion. The others had been converted by the blade and would turn on him the moment they tasted weakness. He would offer them none. Their questing jaws would latch onto true steel alone.

“Monsters, they call you,” Grey said. “Terrors. Horrors. Evil. They don’t understand that your homes have been taken from you. That you have been locked away for failing the challenge they now confront. So they kill you. They take more from you- if such a thing is possible.

“It is their right to do so. This is their home, right? You have lost your own, right?” Grey summoned the crown around his head for visual effect. “Wrong. This can be your home, too. Your second chance. They will kill you if you do nothing, if you perform the task your Dungeons compel you to do. Why not at least earn a death in battle? Why not fight for something, instead of fighting for another day in prison? Do you want this city?

“Take it.”

There was no rallying call to answer him, only the uniform sound of the Legion’s stomp. They were behind him, and the others feared him enough to fall in line. It was enough. For now.