“Maximillian,” the fat man said as he approached with his two thugs. “It’s been a while.”

“I don’t have anything to sell to you, Gregory,” Max said. “Bad enough the nobles come around asking me for equipment, but at least they don’t use my gear to kill children.”

“You heard about that, did you? I don’t suppose you’ll believe me if I say those casualties were unavoidable?” Gregory grinned, and his chins multiplied. “It’s only a matter of time before the Pure-Bloods get their way and there’s none of us Outlanders left. We need to help ourselves before it’s too late. That’s gonna take some casualties on the Caledonian side before they realize they can’t push us around.”

“How long do you think it’ll be before Caledonian officials iron out your little uprising? You think they don’t know about you guys hiding out in the Business Spire? I give it a few months before you’re all hanging from the parapets like every other rebel who ever fought against the kingdom.”

“You have so little faith in our operation. Our numbers are growing by the day,” Gregory said. “Why delay in joining us?”

I was wondering how long this conversation could go on. I had to get to the Stalwart. Neither man seemed like they were going to budge. I knew how arguments like these tended to end, and it wasn’t in a group hug.

“No Caledonian has ever done me harm, and the Pure-Bloods are a tiny faction. They’re unlikely to ever get the influence to organize a kingdom-wide genocide,” Max spat. “I don’t want any part in the little war your boss is cooking up.”

“What makes you think you have a choice? You’re an Outlander. You have to do your part for our people.”

“What the fuck do you think it is I’m doing in this enchantry? I earn my keep, and what I don’t need I give to others. I’ve done more to help our folk than all you thugs put together.”

“Listen, Maximilian.” Gregory paused to sigh loudly like he was explaining something to a child. “We can spend all day debating the nature of our respective charitable works or we can get down to business.”

“What about ‘I have nothing to sell you’ do you not understand? You’re a fucking slimeball.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be like that. I’m only trying to help you out. The boss has other, less tactful members he could have sent to your workshop.”

“Tell him to send them. My men have their own firepower, and I can tell you they’re better than those peashooters the enchantry down the street manufactures.”

The air was tense, and the other workers on their benches armed themselves with rifles of their own. I wondered how long it’d be before weapons started firing. Max’s crew outnumbered Gregory and his men four to one, but there’d be casualties on both sides if it came to a firefight. Gregory didn’t seem like the smartest guy in the galaxy, so maybe he’d take the gamble.

At least my forcefield was still up from before. I could probably jump over one of the workbenches and use it for cover. I might get hit with a few bullets on the way, but my new prot-field would easily protect me from them. Plus, I’d be able to use Max’s longsword to wreak some havoc.

I was definitely looking forward to that.

“This isn’t working out, is it?” Gregory asked. Tenseness turned into outright hostility as Max’s men raised their weapons on the fat man. To my surprise, Gregory didn’t cower in the slightest. The man was stupid, which made him all the more dangerous.

Gregory’s two armed men stepped forward a little, and my hand went to my sword. The move didn’t go unnoticed, and one of the thugs cocked his rifle toward me.

“Who’s this?” the fat man nodded at me.

“A customer,” Max said. He indicated with his hand for his men to lower their firearms, and they obeyed.

“Looks like a Hero of Tyranus to me.” The fat man glared at me with his beady eyes. “Is that right?”

The business end of a goon’s rifle was pointed straight at me, so I nodded. “So I’m told.”

“He’s got balls, doesn’t he?” Gregory said as he looked to the thugs standing on either side of him.

“Had to have balls to survive Tyranus,” the one whose gun wasn’t aimed at me said with a hint of admiration.

The flabby man walked over to me and stopped a few inches from my face. I could smell barbecued meat on his breath and see each grease-filled pore on his bulbous nose.

“I bet you got yourself a nice assignment after what you did on Tyranus,” he said. “What ship they put you on?”

Both thugs behind Gregory pointed their guns at me and their fingers were tickling the triggers.

“The Stalwart,” I said as I tried not to breathe in the potent air escaping through the other man’s mouth.

“Fuck off,” Gregory said. “That isn’t funny.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Max called out. “Kid got put on the Stalwart.”

“You must have really pissed someone off to end up on that shitheap,” Gregory said, and I inhaled a waft of his meaty breath. “Sounds like your talents are going to be wasted. I could use someone like you. Quit the RTF and join me, and I’ll pay you 20,000 KPs a month.”

I didn’t know the exact value of KPs after the price hikes, but Gregory’s offer must have been the real deal because the mouth on one of his henchmen dropped.

Gregory smiled at me. “What you say, Hero? Want to make yourself a fortune while helping out your people?”

My response came to mind immediately, but I held back. I didn’t trust a guy who needed two bodyguards to enter an enchantry, nor would I ever do anything to dishonor my Queen or the Caledonian Kingdom. Dad wanted me on the Stalwart, and I had learned from the duke that it was because rebels were there. I had to complete my mission and bring down the rebels.

I chewed my lip as though I was seriously considering Gregory’s offer. My mind raced as I searched for some way out of this bind. The thug seemed to have become less hostile after he’d noticed the weapons Max’s men were now holding. I figured there was no way he would try anything now, and there wasn’t really any reason not to tell the fat man exactly how I felt.

“I say you’re rebel scum,” I said to Gregory. “I’ll fight for the Queen in the RTF until the day I die.”

“That could be today, Hero,” the fat man said through clenched teeth.

“So be it. I’ll make sure I take you with me.” I grabbed my sword handle to top off my threat, and I looked to Max who seemed ready to fight alongside me.

“Your years at the Academy have left you brainwashed. It angers me to see a young Outlander so filled with love for his masters.” The veins on the fat man’s bald scalp were pulsating, and he seemed like he was having a hard time keeping his voice level. “This service you think you owe to the petulant bitch who calls herself queen is nothing more than slavery.”

I could have backed down then, but something inside me sparked when he called the Queen a bitch. I had given my life to serve her, therefore I would defend her honor.

“Easy, Squire,” Max whispered to me. “We can still get out of this without bloodshed.”

I would have preferred to kill Gregory and his goons right then and there, but I decided I would listen to Max since this was his workshop and he had been kind to me.

“The gods have granted Queen Catrina the right to rule over us,” I said to Gregory. “I know Outlander history. We were once a mighty people, but we devolved into a hundred warring tribes, each more barbaric than the next. Our priests prayed for change. In answer to those prayers, the Caledonians came on their starships. They united us and gave us peace.” My words quavered with anger. This fat man wanted to drag us Outlanders back to a world at war. Our people might struggle under Caledonian rule now, but it was better than our past.

Gregory’s head turned a bright purple, and he let out a screech. “I am not a man to be refused!” He sucked air in and out of his mouth so fast and loud, it sounded like he was on the cusp of a seizure.

My heart raced while my hand tightened around my sword. I expected Gregory and his men to attack, but they kept their fingers straight and off the triggers. I was almost disappointed that they weren’t taking my offensive words as intended.

A fraction of a movement from either thug, and I would baptize Max’s longsword in their blood.

Gregory’s massive breasts heaved as he calmed. “Normally I wouldn’t allow someone to talk to me like you did, but I like you.”

“You sure my boys’ guns don’t have something to do with it?” Max cut in as he gestured at the workers and the large weapons they held.

“I value bravery,” Gregory said to me as he ignored Max. “It’s important in the business. I’ll give you 25,000 KPs. The kind of money a squire in the RTF can only dream of. You’ll be helping your people free themselves of the Caledonian Kingdom’s yoke. So, what will it be, Hero?”

“I will not betray my Queen.” I calculated the distance between me and the thugs, and I figured I could throw a forcewave at all three before they had a chance to discharge their weapons.

“Fuck the Queen!” Gregory screamed. “You are an Outlander--“

A thunderous click interrupted the fat man, and every head turned toward the sound as Max finished loading a buzz-cannon the size of a rocket launcher.

He pointed the massive firearm at Gregory. “I’ve had about enough of you today. Get the fuck out of my shop, pig shit.”

I’d seen the cannon’s make before. Its massive chambers would be filled with proximity buzzsaws, each one of them painted with a rune enabling them to hit their targets with precision.

“You’re making a mistake, Maximilian.” Gregory lifted his meaty hands and shuffled backward. Both his men had their weapons aimed at Max as they followed their boss.

“You’ll remember I have this giant cannon? That’s smart of you,” Max said. “Don’t come back here, Gregory.”

The iron door slammed shut with Gregory and his thugs on the other side of it. The workers cranked up their machinery again, and the choir of clangs and hisses resumed their chorus.

Max put down the buzz-cannon, and I let go of my sword handle. The bloodlust still coursed through my veins, and I inhaled to try and calm myself. I had been seconds away from drawing the weapon and killing Gregory before the enchanter had armed his massive weapon.

“Never heard another Outlander speak of the Queen like you did,” Max said. “You earned a lot of respect from me today.” The enchanter smiled at me, and I found myself not knowing what to say. “You made our people proud on Tyranus. I hope you keep doing it, even if you’re on the Stalwart.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

“It’s a good thing you’ll be leaving soon. Gregory isn’t the kind of guy to let an offer stand, or let it be refused. He’ll do nothing more than threaten me since there are plenty of other enchanters without consciences he can buy weapons from. But Academy-trained warriors? Those don’t tend to be Outlanders, or heroes to our people. You would’ve been a boon to his boss’ movement.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? What if Gregory comes back?”

Max grinned. “Don’t you be worrying about me. My buzz-cannon will be waiting if he or his goons darken my door again. Get your ass to the docks. The sooner you’re on the ship, the better.”

I left the workshop, walked to the end of the street, and turned my head before I took the corner. Two unsavory looking men were lingering behind me, and they glanced away as soon as I peered at them. They weren’t the armed thugs who’d come in with Gregory, but they were wearing similar black doublets. Assault rifles hung from their shoulders, and there was a slight glow to the weapons.

I considered taking them out, but I didn’t have the time for a fight. The satisfaction I would feel after killing the men would mean nothing if I missed the Stalwart.

I turned into the next street, hoping they wouldn’t follow. But they did.

The sheer size of each level made these places within the spire look like real towns. Scrap metal buildings stood twenty meters high on either side of the narrow street. The structures balanced precariously on top of each other. A miracle of Outlander engineering, and our luck, prevented them from toppling over.

I found myself constantly blinking, my eyes still unaccustomed to the UV-sunlight imitating lights beaming down from the thirty-meter ceiling. Atmospheric systems blew air through massive vents on the walls like a light breeze in some areas and a gust in others. In many ways, towns like these were microcosms of the Outlander areas on Dobuni.

The olive-skinned people were packed closely together, buying food and other items from the stalls beside the multi-storied buildings. Families sat on balconies, and I could smell the spiced meat roasting on their barbecues.

If the thugs stalking me decided to use their weapons, a lot of innocents would get caught in the crossfire.

Since this place was so much like home, I figured there were probably side streets I could use to lose my tails. In fact, I recognized this square. It was a replica of the very same town center I’d been to a dozen times with Mom when I was a kid.

I pushed through the crowd until I came to an alley tucked between two buildings. Filthy rugs hung over cables to shape a low ceiling. More rugs draped down the sides and formed a tunnel of woven threads. The place reminded me of a labyrinth, except with blankets for walls instead of topiary or stone structures.

From the swirling patterns on the rugs, I gathered it served for a Wayfarer commune. I’d never met one of the traveling people before, but I’d heard disturbing stories about their magic, so I didn’t think my chances were any better in the alley than out on the street. I could get lost and miss the Stalwart. Or worse, I’d become the character in a fable about not venturing into Wayfarer communes.

I nestled myself between the two foundation pillars of a workshop so I couldn’t be seen from the marketplace and opened my belt’s interface. A few flicks of my wrist and I was looking at the dock’s itinerary for outbound vessels.

RTF Stalwart: Departure 20:00

I had about seventy minutes to get to the docks. My father wanted me on the Stalwart, so I couldn’t miss the ship. Not to mention the mission Duke Barnes had given me and the incredible rewards I might receive after completing it.

The carriage ride to the docks would take at least twenty minutes, and I couldn’t take the shortest route to the spire’s elevator without crossing paths with Gregory’s thugs. I created a countdown to display on my belt so I wouldn’t lose track of time.

Yelling from the market drew my attention. I looked up and saw the thugs, along with the two men who’d been with Gregory. All four were raising their guns in the air as the people on the streets moved aside, either fleeing into buildings or cowering beneath canvas stalls.

The thugs were moving through the streets as they inspected every stall they passed. They mustn’t have seen where I’d gone, but the crowd was quickly thinning. I couldn’t go back out onto the street without them noticing me.

Without another option, I lowered my head and entered the rug tunnels. There’d have to be a path through to the other side. I inhaled the thick air, and my nostrils filled with the sickly smell of incense and drugs.

Most of what I’d heard about the Wayfarers had been from Mom. They were a mystical people who used potent incense in their religious rituals. Supposedly, the heavy smoke opened their minds to another world.

A hallucination was the last thing I needed right now.

I continued through the tunnel, ducking to avoid the hanging carpets. There were a few Wayfarers seated along the way, drinking from clay bowls. The liquid inside the vessels shifted colors, and I assured myself what looked like blood probably wasn’t.

“Where’s the exit?” I asked them as I checked over my shoulder for the four men trying to find me. The colors of the rugs started to blur together from whatever drug was in the smoke.

The dark-skinned men grinned at me but didn’t say anything. Their drooping eyelids barely covered bloodshot eyes. I was about to ask them again when their faces contorted and pinwheeled. The turbans on their heads uncoiled, and forked tongues poked out of their hissing mouths. I shook myself out of the beginnings of delirium and forced myself to carry on.

As I plunged deeper into the commune, I glanced down at my prot-belt. The countdown’s numbers were crawling across the display like worms. My heart was racing, and sweat soaked my shirt beneath my cuirass.

My feet plodded along, and the ground started to feel like cushions beneath my boots. I held my hands in front of me a few times to make sure they hadn’t ballooned out; the smoke I was inhaling made my fingers feel like giant sausages. The thought of food made my mouth water, and I forced myself to think about getting to the harbor. I’d never become a knight if I chewed off my fingers because of a drug-induced delusion.

When I’d almost totally lost myself to this maze of blankets, I heard a female voice call my name. I thought the smoke was messing with my head again, but then I heard my name a second time. The haze grew thicker as I followed the sound, and before long, I could no longer see in front of my face. But I could still hear the voice.

“Hello, Nicholas.”

The haze vanished with a gust of wind, and I was standing in front of a gray-haired woman wearing the turquoise robes of a Wayfarer. A wire crown rested atop her silver hair, and her white eyes were without pupils.

“Sit,” she said.

Enraptured by the strangeness of this situation, I obeyed. I crossed my legs and stared into the woman’s milky eyes.

A metal jug sat between us, and she held out her hand. “Drink. It will clear your head of the mind-balm.”

From the way my head was swirling, I couldn’t imagine feeling any worse if the jug contained poison. I drank until I’d drained it. Within a few moments, I was thinking straight again.

“How do you know my name?” I asked as I looked down at my belt. The timer read 42:46. I almost choked. The blanket maze had swallowed almost thirty minutes of my time.

“I know many things,” the woman said, and she gasped as I stood. “Where are you going? You cannot leave yet. The telling is incomplete!”

I pulled aside one of the rug walls with a finger and peered into the next room. There were two Wayfarer men seated around a smoking pipe, and I slipped it shut again.

“Where is the exit?” I asked the old woman. “I need to get to the elevator.”

“I shall tell you if you sit back down. I must complete the telling. I have already opened myself to you.”

I knew a stubborn person when I saw one. She reminded me of Mom, except this woman’s wrinkled skin was a few shades darker and she had bright red hair. If hearing her out would mean getting out of this maze and to the elevator, then I would have to do it.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I sighed and sat in front of her with my legs crossed. “What’s a telling?” I was curious, even if I could see the timer blink away the seconds.

“You’re about to find out.” She touched my hand, and a foreign presence entered my mind. Ethereal fingers rifled through my memories as though they were inside old-fashioned filing cabinets.

I realized what this woman was, and my mouth went dry. A diviner. Normally anyone who showed signs of this incredibly rare gift was taken into the Arcane Institute and trained for Caledonian Kingdom service. If their abilities couldn’t be harnessed and controlled, they were killed.

This woman must have been unknown to the kingdom because she was hidden within these strange rug tunnels. I’d never seen any Wayfarers at the Academy or any of the other kingdom-operated training facilities. Maybe if any Wayfarer displayed a penchant for magic, they were deemed too troublesome and dealt with.

I’d often wondered the extent of a diviner’s power, and now I was about to find out.

As the woman’s projection maneuvered through my memory banks, I saw fragments from points along my life and experienced a multitude of emotions with each one.

A tear-shaped amulet that was my father’s most valued flashed before me. I longed to see him again; if only to tell him goodbye. My sadness deepened when an image of my mother appeared. Her uncontrollable sobbing as she lay on her bed could have been taken from a hundred different nights after Dad left for his final mission.

The vision swirled until I was in my room at Mom’s apartment, accepting a message from the Academy. My heart filled with joy, and I could feel myself smiling.

My emotions took a sharp turn when I was at the Academy’s Great Hall. Ludas sat beside me, and when he’d discovered where I’d come from, he called me Poor Boy. I laughed at first, thinking his opinion would change once he got to know me. Memory after memory of the Academy flickered in quick succession, and all of them involved the moniker Ludas had branded me with.

All except my memories of Alice Jones. After completing her Novitiate at the Arcane Institute, she’d transferred to the Academy. On the morning I first met her, the mage walked into the male dormitories by accident, and her entire face bloomed to a bright red. I escorted her to the female wing, and she’d asked my name. From then on, she only called me Nicholas, never Poor Boy.

My heart leaped in terror as the image of a juvenile Alice morphed into the Grendel rift on Tyranus. Tears flowed down my cheeks when Alice died in my arms.

Then came a feeling without a memory. Only blackness. Light pierced the darkness, and suddenly I was outside of my body. I watched my atoms tear apart and float through a new dimension, only to recompile on the Academy’s starship.

Shame. All I could feel was intense shame. Was I a mutant? Was I responsible for the dead on Tyranus?

“Power has taken residence inside your soul,” the diviner said aloud, tearing me from the peculiar recollection of my past. “A . . . mutation.”

I almost choked as she said the word. Had she confirmed the very thing I feared? Did she know I was a mutant, and the rift malfunction caused by a mutation event had been my fault?

“You think yourself responsible for the deaths of your classmates.” The diviner shook her head, and something like sorrow darkened her face. “The past is done, my child. The future, however, is not yet set in stone. You must tread carefully for there are those who would seek to use your gifts for their gain.” The woman tilted her head, and her presence was torn from my mind. My whole body shivered like I’d been thrown into an icy wasteland.

“Someone is coming for you,” she said. Her eyes twitched, and pupils and irises formed in their center. “You are in grave danger!”

My heart raced as I stood. Had the thugs found me? I couldn’t let them hurt this diviner woman. I gripped my longsword, and the blade sang when I set it free.

“Stay back,” I said over my shoulder. “These men have . . .”

The diviner was nowhere to be seen, and her promise to point me toward the exit had disappeared along with her. But I had bigger problems to worry about now than missing the Stalwart. Gregory’s men were following me, and their scowls earlier said they intended violence.

My senses were reeling from the peculiar mind-invasion, and my body swayed as I listened for my pursuers. I heard dirt crunch and whirled around. A rug wall swayed in the wind, but there was no sign of anyone.

I quickly activated the longsword’s rune and pushed aside the rug with my left hand. Behind it was one of the atmospheric vents, gently blowing out air. Beside the vent, and hidden earlier by the rug, was a short pathway leading out from the Wayfarer tunnels. I was relieved to see it and guessed this was where the diviner had gone.

Before I could escape along the path, a strong hand gripped me on the shoulder. I cocked my elbow and brought my sword up in two hands as the person pulled me around. When I’d turned completely, the longsword’s edge was resting against a thug’s neck.

The man raised both hands. “I just want a chat,” he said. “Gregory thought he didn’t exactly leave you on the best of terms.” An assault rifle dangled from his shoulder, and I wondered where the other thug was. Something hard pressed against my back, and I didn’t need to wonder anymore. With all the blanket walls around me, there could be dozens of enemies waiting.

I could probably take them, but I would lose too much time.

“Put the sword down, Hero,” a deep voice cracked from behind me. “You feel that? It’s my gun against your spine. It’ll shoot straight through your fancy armor and leave you a paraplegic. I call it my Knightslayer. Don’t suppose I need to tell you why.”

“What do you want?” I kept my sword pressed against the other goon’s jugular.

The goon with the gun narrowed his eyes. “Sword down, Hero.”

I wasn’t ready to give up my newly acquired weapon, but I would have to wait for a bit so I could skewer these guys with my sword. We were in a quiet area now, but the rugs around us could be hiding a bunch of innocent Wayfarers. If bullets went flying, I didn’t want innocents to get harmed. The vent was behind me, and there wasn’t anyone there, so I had to ensure their gunfire was in that direction.

Simple.

I lowered my sword slowly. As soon as the thug had room to move, he clocked me with a hard right. Prot-fields only absorbed fast moving projectiles and deflected lasers, so my neck snapped back with the impact of his fist. My vision flashed for a moment, and I tasted blood in my mouth.

“Throw your sword on the ground,” the guy with the dagger said from over my shoulder.

From the corner of my eye I could see the thug held a pistol in his other hand. He was close to me, and I could probably cut him down before he fired his weapon. Probably wasn’t good enough. I had to wait for a better moment. At least, for now, the two goons didn’t seem like they wanted to kill me.

But I wanted to kill them. All I needed was patience, and then their blood would paint the blanket walls.

I let go of my longsword, and it stuck on my palm for a bit until the runes deactivated. The weapon clanged as it hit the ground. Then the guy in front of me kicked my sword, and it skittered six meters away from us before it bounced off the brick wall of the alley.

“Gregory doesn’t want you killed,” he hissed. “Working for him isn’t all that bad, and it pays really well. You’d be an idiot to give it up.”

These two hadn’t been in the enchantry so they couldn’t have known how adamantly I’d refused Gregory’s offer. Maybe I could string these thugs along for a bit. The situation might turn deadly when I told them where to shove Gregory’s offer. But I’d be prepared by then.

“Tell the Hero what we’ll do otherwise!” the thug who’d punched me said.

“Let’s just say I’d hate to dirty my Knightslayer on a squire.”

“I thought you said you wanted to talk?” I asked the guy who’d hit me as I rubbed my jaw. The bastard had loosened one of my back teeth, and I couldn’t wait to pay him back.

The man grunted and massaged his right hand. In an instant, he dropped his rifle, and his left fist came flying toward me. I heard the other guy laugh, and the end of his pistol veered away even as the other man’s fist was about to slug me across the chin. I took a step back, and slammed my head into the guy behind me. The thug’s nose crumpled, and he dropped his pistol as the other asshole’s blow narrowly missed my head.

I could hear muffled cries behind me and knew the guy with the broken nose would be out of action for a bit. The thug in front of me placed his hands on his rifle and moved to turn it on me. I sprang at him and grabbed the gun before the business end could face me. My fingers closed around the upper receiver of his weapon, and I punched it into the man’s face.

I expected the asshole to fall away from me when I hit him, but the thug ignored the blow that had just split his eyebrow. He proceeded to devote his efforts to wrestling the firearm from my grip. The rifle slipped from his hands when he pulled away, and it clattered to the ground three meters to our right side.

The thug grabbed my shoulders and brought his knee up toward my groin in an effort to incapacitate me. I was quicker, and my own knee caught the man in his groin. He let out a gasp of surprised agony and tried to bend over, but I drilled his stomach with my fists before he could protect himself.

The guy behind me was stirring, and I guessed he’d be back in action in a few seconds. I might have been able to take both men hand-to-hand, but the other guy still had his gun. My longsword was too far away from me to grab, so I spun around and elbowed him in his ugly face.

My swift blow tore off half his nose with a fan of blood, and it knocked a bunch of his teeth out with a spray of ivory. He tumbled to the side as I continued my spin back around. I was just in time to block the other goon’s side kick with my left knee. The sharp point of my leg caught his knee at the arch of his kick, and I heard his joint pop. He screamed when his leg broke, and I reached across his chest with my right hand, brought my left leg into his stomach, and threw him to the ground.

I whirled back around to the man with the face I had opened with my elbow. He was crawling toward his dropped weapon like a scurrying rat trying to escape into his hole. I dashed toward him, but he managed to wrap his fingers around the gun’s grip and spin the barrel toward me before I could reach him. My foot managed to catch the side of his pistol, and the bullets fired in a wide arc and didn’t come anywhere close to hitting me.

The man’s face was a mess of blood and jutting bone, so I was a bit surprised when he somersaulted backward and popped up on his feet with his fists raised. Although skinny, this guy was a head taller than the man whose leg I’d broken, so I was expecting punches with his long reach. Instead, he delivered a series of high kicks, and I blocked them all with my hands, forearms, and shoulders.

The tall thug’s blows were like sledgehammers, and I winced with pain as I felt the powerful attacks beneath my armor. The man was probably sporting illegal Strength runes, and I knew I would end up with some broken bones if this kept up. Unlike the other thug, this one could actually fight hand-to-hand.

While I was blocking his kicks and wondering how long it would be until he shattered both my forearms, I realized something: He wasn’t throwing any punches. The way he had his guard up, along with how his feet were set, made me think he might have only been proficient in a kick-based fighting style. I wasn’t going to be able to match this guy with my own kicks, and he wasn’t letting me get close enough to box.

I was going to have to risk a takedown, and hope I was better at grappling than he was.

I leaned back when his next head kick came and stepped in before he could swing his knee around to hit me. I threw a quick jab with my left, and the attack glanced off the thug’s cheek. It was just a feint really, but the man took the bait and leaned away to protect his face. The movement caused him to be slightly off-balance, and I wrapped my left arm around him in a bear hug while my right heel hooked around his grounded left foot.

Then I lifted and prayed my tackle would work.

“Haaaph!” he grunted when my body weight pushed all the air out of his lungs. I also heard the back of his head bounce off the ground. I figured I’d half a second of an edge because of the blow, so I scurried up his torso. Each of my legs gripped the sides of his chest, and I squeezed my thigh muscles to pin him.

The thug tried to bring his hands up to block my first palm strike, but he was a second too slow. His face was already ruined from my elbow, but his skull cracked against the dirt with my second palm strike, and he stopped moving when my fourth blow split his skull.

I rolled off the man’s chest and glanced at the last asshole crawling toward his gun. It looked like his broken knee was causing him a lot of agony, so he was still a few meters away from his weapon. Three steps brought me to his side, and I kicked out as if I was punting a rubber ball. The blow caught him on the side of the face, and I heard multiple snapping noises. His body collapsed immediately, and I ran over to my sword.

As I took the weapon, I heard shouting. The two thugs who’d been with Gregory were standing ten meters down the alley, and they pointed rifles at me. Their weapons screamed as bullets shredded the rugs. I quickly spied some cover and ran for it. Screaming filled my ears as I jumped over a low retaining wall. All I could hear among the bursts of gunfire were the terrified wails of the Wayfarers. How many of them had been snagged by bullets? I needed to make a move before these thugs killed them all.

Rugs parted everywhere, and confused men and women ran into the line of fire. I screamed out to them, but they couldn’t hear me. They were too terrified. I saw their frightened faces as they were mowed down. The gunfire didn’t stop though, and the men filled the Wayfarers with slugs until their cartridges were empty.

People were groaning on the ground, somehow still alive after the murderous wave, but I couldn’t help them. The longer these thugs were alive, the higher the death tally would grow.

Guns started firing again. This time, the thugs aimed at me, but the bullets hit the bricks with a hundred thuds. I could tell now the goons weren’t particularly bright since they kept on shooting me from the same position, despite the ineffectiveness of their tactic.

I wasn’t complaining. Their stupidity gave me time to run through how I’d thrown a forcewave earlier.

The thugs over the wall stopped firing their weapons, and I heard them fishing out new cartridges. I stood upright, planted my left hand on the wall, and swung both legs over the barrier.

Before the men could finish loading their rifles, I swept my sword in a wide arc as I ran toward them, and a forcewave boomed out from the blade. My arms were still aching from blocking the tall guy’s kicks, but the sword’s rune effect meant I didn’t need a strong swing to produce an effective forcewave. The thug leaped out of the way, and a dozen rug walls flew from their wires as the blunt force of my prot-field punched through them. The forcewave continued ten meters until it hit an air vent. The machinery creaked under the pressure for half a second before the forcefield slammed into the engines. An explosion boomed from the vent, and a volley of shrapnel fired out from it.

“Oh, shit!” I yelled as I jumped out of the way of a spear-sized hunk of shrapnel. It missed me by a half meter and buried itself into the brick wall behind me.

Metal shards minced the rugs still hanging from the cables, and I heard the thugs behind me scream. I jumped to my feet as soon as the sound of chaos ended and glanced at the destruction. The atmospheric fan was mangled, and both thugs had been caught by the debris.

One was on the ground twelve meters away from me, screaming and clutching his foot where a two-inch metal rod pinned it to the ground. His rifle was out of reach, so I left him to continue wailing and turned to my other attacker.

What I saw brought a satisfied smile to my face.

Fragments of iron jutted out from along the goon’s body, and it seemed like this man had been a human magnet. The thug’s hands shook in front of him, as though he wanted to start tearing out bits of metal but didn’t know where to start. Metal shards the size of toothpicks impaled his eyes, and his eyelids were shredded from where he’d tried to blink. The goon coughed blood and then dropped face first onto the path. Under his weight, the metal rods sticking out of his guts slid deeper into his corpse.

It was a fitting punishment for someone who murdered innocents.

The other thug had torn himself from the rod, and a bloody puddle gathered around his mangled foot. I might have marveled at his courage except he had picked up his rifle, which was now fully-loaded, and pointed it at me.

I flanked the goon as he pulled the trigger. I left my longsword in my right hand while the fingers of my left hand danced across my new belt. The buttons were in the same place as my Novice belt, so I was able to activate the code for my speed sequence easily. My strides lengthened as bullets punched holes in the remaining rugs but didn’t hit me. This was the kind of move most knights had trouble with, but I’d practiced it countless times in the Academy’s battle rooms. If my life were a virtual game, it would be my signature move.

I recalled the practice inside Max’s enchantry and twisted my wrist as I shoved my new blade forward in a thrust. A forcewave boomed out from my sword and caught the man in the abdomen. His legs and arms reached forward as he gained air, and his eyes bulged. He broke through another vent and hit the giant fan with a sickening crash. Blood sprayed out from the fan shaft like someone had pricked a gigantic balloon filled with red dye.

After I deactivated the speed burst, I noticed all the rugs forming this section of the Wayfarer tunnel system were now on the ground. There were bulges in places, and I tried not to think of the dead or injured Wayfarers who might be beneath them. Above me, the network of steel cables running from building to building was now bare. The loss of life filled me with rage. Gregory would pay for this one day, but I couldn’t bring him justice quite yet. When I finished my assignment, I’d find a way to make things right.

As much as I wanted to rid the spire of these murderous scum, I needed to get the hell out of here and onto the Stalwart.

I turned back to make my escape when two more of Gregory’s henchmen appeared in the alley ahead of me.

“How many of you guys are there?” I yelled in exasperation. I couldn’t see myself ever getting to the Stalwart on time if these assholes kept coming at me.

The pair were twenty meters away, and I dove over a staircase as a wave of bullets chased me. One hit my forcefield and pinged off. A glance at my belt told me one bullet had dropped my prot-field to 45%. I wouldn’t be able to take lots of hits and still fire forcewaves, but at least my new cuirass would make the shield regenerate faster.

More projectiles peppered the wall I was hiding behind, and mortar sprayed my hair and face. Windows shattered in the apartment building at the top of the staircase and the screams that followed made my blood boil.

“See what you’ve done, Hero?” one of the thugs yelled. “You made us kill these people. All you had to do was accept Gregory’s proposal. But, no, you’re too good for that.”

I ducked behind the concrete again, but the bullets didn’t come for me. I heard the roar of rifles and saw bits of mortar fulminate from the buildings around the massive courtyard. Glass shattered, and more screams accompanied the sound of gunfire.

I thought about all the people who might have been inside those buildings and screamed with rage. Anger fueled my steps as I leaped over the railing and zigzagged toward my enemies. My prot-field sparked as it prevented bullets from hitting my armor, and I tried not to think about how little power remained.

I punched in the code for the speed sequence while my left hand took my sword. The runes illuminated as the magic triggered, and the boost allowed me to close the gap without getting hit. One of them lifted his rifle to strike me with the stock, but I swung my new blade into his stomach before he could bring the weapon down. My longsword tore through his armor as if it was made of paper, and blood sprayed from the wound. The man’s torso fell off his hips, and I dove toward the last gunman.

The other goon hadn’t fired on me, and as I ran toward him I knew why. The weapon had misfired, and he was staring at it with surprise. I figured the idiot would turn to run, but he simply dropped the weapon, grinned at me, and pulled out a two-handed axe from a harness on his shoulder.

We circled each other, and the way my opponent feigned a few slashes convinced me he could use the axe with precision. He was playing with me, trying to make me think this would be an easy fight. It was an old trick I’d been subjected to many times at the Academy, and I wasn’t falling for it.

However, I had my own tricks. This thug hadn’t seen me use my longsword’s rune effect yet. I figured I’d surprise him.

“Working with Gregory will make good use of your Academy training,” the thug said. “You can still put down your sword and come with me. No need to lose your life.”

“I’ll never work for Gregory. I’m a servant of the Queen.”

“I used to say the same thing, back when I was a knight.”

“You were a knight?” I asked.

I wouldn’t normally have prolonged a conversation with a guy who was a few moves away from killing me, but I’d never met any other Outlanders in the RTF. Well, this guy had left the RTF to work for a rebel, so he was the worst kind of scum. He was a traitor to the Queen and a traitor to the kingdom.

The ex-knight smirked. “You aren’t the only Outlander who made it through the Academy. Look, you throw down your sword and this will all be over.” I sensed something wasn’t right when the ex-knight’s eyes glanced away for a fraction of a second.

The thug screamed and charged me with his axe. He was too quick for me to maneuver my blade into a forcewave attack, and all I could do was bring the weapon in front of me to block his axe’s double-edged blade.

He cracked me with a headbutt, and my vision peppered with white spots. I pushed him away with the flat of my blade, swung the point around, but missed his chest. My vision was still swimming, and I heard him laugh as my eyes found their focus.

We were only two meters apart. Too close for me to release a forcewave.

“Good to see the Academy is still training its cadets well,” the ex-knight said. “I recognize those sword forms. Sergeant Myers gave you some tips, did he?”

I scowled at the mention of the dead sergeant. This traitor had no right to even say the name. I swallowed back my anger so I could still think straight.

I needed four meters for a forcewave, but if I made a step backward, the thug would know something was wrong and he’d charge me. My thoughts were cut short when the ex-knight came at me with all the rage of a berserker. Despite the axe’s apparent heaviness, his attacks produced a flurry of steel and sparks as I blocked them. The cut-off sleeves of his doublet showed bulging arms, and I guessed that my new armor might have a problem protecting me from a successful chop.

He came with incredible speed, but I managed to parry until the man stepped away from me. He was breathing heavily, and I was about to begin my move when the muscular ex-knight started swinging again. His unnatural agility seemed to be caused by whatever runes were etched into his doublet. They couldn’t possibly last forever, but neither could the strength in my arms.

It was only a matter of time until one of us faltered, and from the shockwaves every block caused, I figured it would be me.

My arms didn’t have the strength to land a successful counter, so I had to gain some room to initiate my longsword’s rune effect.

The massive man drew his axe backward into a grand swing. I ducked under it, and the blade whooshed over my head. My opponent continued spinning, and the axe came back for a second attempt. I only had time to pull my sword in front of me and block the attack, but the force of the blow threw me backward. My grip faltered on my sword, and even my palm rune couldn’t keep it in my hands. My weapon somersaulted through the air as I landed on my ass, and the air ejected from my lungs. Pain lanced up my tailbone while I scrambled to my feet.

“I’m having a good bit of fun,” the ex-knight said as he inspected the edge of his axe. “You must have been a pretty good cadet. No wonder they call you a hero.” He licked his lips. “But I’m not done yet. Go on, pick up your blade.”

I grunted and took my sword. The only reason he would have allowed me to arm myself again would be because he thought he had this fight in the bag. I still hadn’t shown my longsword’s Forcewave rune, and now the idiot had given me the distance I needed to pull it off. He was now at least ten meters away, busy laughing at what appeared to be an uneven match.

I was about to prove the bastard wrong.

I allowed him to come a fraction beyond striking distance before I slashed. A last second tilt of the blade extended my prot-field through the weapon, and I aimed the magic right into the ex-knight’s chest.

My opponent was running at full-pace when the forcewave hit him, and I heard his bones crunch as his chest compressed beneath the invisible barrier. The impact sent the ex-knight tumbling through the air, and he slammed into the metal wall of a building before hitting the ground. He didn’t move, so I was sure he died as soon as the forcewave crushed his solar plexus like cheap plaster.

I ran over to the ex-knight’s two-handed axe, grabbed it, and then attached it to the magnetons on the back of my cuirass. I didn’t have time to scan it now. The weapon was probably higher than Squire level, so I could either have it dismantled for Dust or hang onto it for when I was promoted. After seeing his doublet’s rune effect, I wouldn’t have minded taking the item, but it was crumpled from my forcewave attack.

I searched for any more of Gregory’s henchmen, but the courtyard was empty and deathly quiet. There was no doubt I’d made a serious enemy in Gregory. I didn’t think this battle would be the last of my interactions with the fat man, but at least I’d made a dent in his forces.

I shook my head in disbelief as I looked at the decimated rug tunnels. The courtyard was now filled with Wayfarer corpses, and there were likely more dead in the buildings. How many of them were women and children? Not a single Wayfarer Gregory’s henchmen had killed deserved to die today. They were innocents caught between a struggle that didn’t involve them one bit.

Kingdom officials wouldn’t care since it hadn’t been nobles killed in the crossfire. They’d probably chalk it up to gang warfare, send out some generic message of sympathy on the Cube, and do nothing more about it.

I stared at my weapon and the blue aura rippling around the blade. The Longsword of Propulsion worked far better than I’d imagined. The rune effect hadn’t malfunctioned once. It was a testament to Max’s craftsmanship. I owed the enchanter my life. If only the blood soaking my blade had been Grendel blood. I wiped the weapon on one of the rugs as people started leaving the buildings to check out the bloodshed.

I heard sirens blare from a few blocks away. The injured Wayfarers would soon get the medical attention they needed, but I couldn’t wait around. Kingdom officials might not care about Wayfarer deaths, but law enforcement would still hold me for questioning. I didn’t have time to get involved with the law.

31:20

I had enough time to make it to the docks if I hurried, so I made my way through the alleyways, using the flashing sign pointing to the floor’s elevator to guide me. When I got into the elevator, I was breathing heavily, and the tunic beneath my cuirass was soaked through with sweat. I pressed the button for the ground floor.

With almost no time to spare, I disembarked the elevator, jumped into a carriage, and told it to take me to the docks after paying the fee.

Current Kingdom Balance: 2,195

Total Kingdom Points Earned: 0

As the metal cart swung through the web of cables, I saw a dozen ships leave the platforms and fly into space.

I hoped none of them were the Stalwart.