Washington, D.C., 2046
The eidolon had set up a mix between an office and a shrine beneath the White House in the emergency bunker. Much like the temple to her so-called god in a different bunker.
A few minutes walk picking through their memories had told him everything he needed to know about their plans.
The Eidolon of Sunor, Kerkestis, though she hadn’t shared her name with anyone on this world, stood from her prayer as soon as he entered her chambers.
Sunor.
The self-proclaimed King of the Gods.
Of which pantheon?
The only one that counted from their perspective.
Funny how all the different pantheons called themselves the one true gods.
The information in her head didn’t fill him with happiness.
There were a lot of these pantheons and they existed in a constant state of conflict, warring over worlds without end.
Kerkestis loomed.
7 feet tall.
Perfect proportions as though carved out of marble by a machine.
He craned his neck to look her in the eyes.
They shined with power, but not enough to bother him.
He waited.
The silence stretched for minutes.
“They are not coming,” she quirked her head.
Perfectly coiffed hair let a few dark curls loose.
That had been deliberate.
“No, they aren’t,” he agreed.
“I had wondered when the Gods of this world would reveal themselves.”
“There are no gods. Not on this world or any other.”
“The divine blood flowing through my veins would question your assertion.”
“Power is power. ‘Divine’ is just a word.”
“Yet, my God draws said power from the worship of the faithful.”
“So? We draw power from the food we eat. Do the cattle worship us?”
“For all intents and purposes we are as Gods to the cattle. We feed them, determine where they graze, where they sleep, when they procreate. Do you do it differently on your world? I will listen to a God’s words over that of the mortals.”
“There are no gods. You and the powerful being you serve need to understand that is how I see them. How can we come to an agreement without understanding our perspectives?”
“The wise have said that one relies on semantics when their argument is weak.”
“Exactly. I’m glad we agree that there are no such thing as gods. Simply beings, such as your boss and myself, with great power. With that understanding out of the way. I’d like you to leave and carry a message to Sunor and all the other so-called gods. Don’t worry, it’s simple. Ready? Okay, here it is… you can’t claim land or power here. This is our world. You can visit. Take in the sights. Sample cuisine. Kill monsters. As long as you abide by our rules.”
“Simple,” she agreed. “However, you speak of rules. One of the many aspects Sunor holds is that of civilization, which I believe you understand. There is civilization on your world. Though weakened by the spires. Do we not abide by the rules the spires set upon us all? We claimed land, yes, as is permitted under those rules.”
“Yes and the same rules say that I can kill you all and take it back.”
“Then another will come in my place.”
“Yes, another and another and another, until you’ve finally managed to claw enough territory so that Sunor can come here in the flesh, so to speak. We all know how that’ll turn out. Death and destruction. I’d rather not subject my people and world to that just because a power hungry entity couldn’t control his greed. Though, I suppose he can’t really help himself. Got to impose order and take control wherever he can, right?”
“Take care with your arrogance. I am bound to defend his holy name.”
“You take care. The only reason we’re talking is because I sensed that you’re more of a talker and the most reasonable one out of the eidolon teams you’ve got scattered all over the world worming your way into position to take control.”
Her face stilled like a statue.
“Yeah, I know about them. You can warn them. It won’t make a difference. You’re lucky you went with the velvet glove approach and not the iron fist. So, to make it clear I’m not asking. I know about all the spies and assassins. I’ll give you twenty four hours to pull them back. Otherwise, I won’t guarantee that they’ll be returned. You will not invade nor otherwise force reintegration of the independent settlements in what was once the United States of America. Any hostile action taken against them will be as though done to me. That applies to everyone. Not just my allies, Richellia, Seattle, Chicago, Atlanta, Northern California, Southern California and so on and so forth. Actually, just to be on the safe side assume I’ll react as if they’re all my allies. Understand that if you break the peace, then I will start at the top, which means you and your fellow eidolons.”
“Is there no possibility of striking an accord? Sunor does not do this out of the lust for conquest. Though, I will admit that the Gods are not always of the same mind. Sunor does this to protect his faithful. Not one month after your Earth was revealed as a Terminus World, an ancient enemy of the God, Simeht, used your world to bypass her defenses. They traveled through the spires to appear in the heart of one of her cities and unleashed a plague of undeath that continues to spread across the continent. Thirty-thousand years of unbroken lineage lays in ruin. We could hold you, God of this world, responsible for allowing such evil.”
“So, I just have to stand guard over millions of spires and you’ll go away?”
“Perhaps, Sunor would show deference to a fellow God, no matter how young, if said God proved strong enough to keep our enemies from striking at the hearts of our oldest worlds.”
“I’d hold him to the same standard. There will be no using Earth as a back door for your wars.”
“Until then, I will acquiesce to your demands. I will take no direct action against your interests.”
“And the other four eidolons.”
“Are included,” she inclined her head.
“How about the Americans you’re ‘advising’?”
“We will continue to provide wisdom, though we will not aid them in any endeavors that go against your demands. However, we don’t claim control over them. Our view is that they are the rightful government of this land. A view you disagree with, but until Sunor instructs otherwise, we will not involve ourselves in local disputes.”
“Of course. So, if they do start doing violence it’s completely not your responsibility.”
“Not if we do not assume control, which you have made clear will lead only to violence. That is not our aim.”
“Okay. We’ve got an agreement.”
“I must speak to Sunor for guidance to proceed further.”
“I’m glad you’ve been reasonable. Hopefully, the other eidolon teams are the same.”
“They won’t be, but they are not my responsibility. They have their mandates as I do. They will act as they see fit. What you do with them is between you and their Gods.”
“Somehow, I don’t really believe that.”
“Such is your choice.”
“Good talk. I’m missing the fourth, no, fifth Battle of the Shore for this.”
“Then, let us hope that the arms of your allies are strong enough to carry the day.”
----------------------------------------
“I don’t understand how this was possible, Sunor’s Will,” the Eidolon of Salla growled.
She was responsible for the defenses and a child God of this world had simply walked through everything to have a long conversation with the Eidolon of Sunor without any of them activating.
“I will not insult your intelligence, Salla’s Will, by suggesting that your countermeasures failed,” the Eidolon of Sunor said magnanimously. “They were clearly functional and continue to be so. Therefore, this nameless God overcame them with his power.”
“Which you cannot describe,” the Eidolon of Sut chewed his lip. The bloody sore was not befitting of an eidolon, but Alcaestus had learned not to point it out. It was but a simple thing for Sut’s Will to transform the open wound into pristine flesh in the blink of an eye. “Furthermore, you cannot even describe his physical appearance. Respectfully, Sunor’s Will,” he bowed.
“I deigned to let your thought worms into my memories and what have they found?”
“Nothing of this God. Oh, the contents of your parlay were there in full. Even this God’s words. Of their face and appearance, it is as you say. There is nothing to hold on to. It is like gathering Styxian Mists with a metal spoon.”
“He,” the Eidolon of Sunor said. “I know not his face nor his voice, but I am certain of that.”
“My eyes saw nothing and my ears heard nothing. And they are always open,” the Eidolon of Ekra said.
“You struck a hasty bargain,” the Eidolon of Salla said. “We have dozens of operations set to begin within a month.”
“You will redirect them away from populated settlements. Hunt marauders. Clear spawn zones. Claim encounter challenges and unclaimed territory. We will allow this young God to fight the others. If he is strong then he will clear the board for us. If he is weak, then he will no longer be a concern.”
“If he is strong…” the Eidolon of Salla mused.
“An infinite number of worlds clamor for this world. His hands will be full for eternity. We abide by the agreement, unless Sunor commands otherwise, and achieve our goals quietly underneath the aegis of a young, naive God. Adras’ Will, your silence is unwelcome. Share the thoughts I can see dancing through your features.”
“This is the young God’s territory. If he doesn’t see us as a threat then he will hold to the pact. My concerns point more to the relentless one or the flying man. The stories I’ve gathered suggest that his territory spans this entire world and he isn’t one for words and agreements. There are always quarrels within a pantheon, perhaps, these two can be set against each other?”
“Divide and conquer. One of the tenets of victorious war,” the Eidolon of Salla said.
“Are we certain that they aren’t one and the same?” the Eidolon of Ekra said.
“Unlikely, there are pictures of the flying man and many who have seen him in person gave similar descriptions. Sunor’s Will, if I am no longer to challenge the Champion of Atlanta, then what am I to do?”
“Don’t like sitting still, Adras’ Will?” the Eidolon of Ekra grinned, revealing sharp teeth. “Is not the hunter patient?”
“If there is a worthy hunt,” he shrugged boulder-sized shoulders. “Slaying weak monsters doesn’t qualify.”
“You must temper your eagerness, Adras’ Will. I promise you that you will have many challenges worthy of your strength,” the Eidolon of Sunor said.
“These Americans won’t hold back. They are eager to take back what is rightfully theirs. They are as a pack of bladewolves with the scent of prey in the wind.”
“They will not have our direct assistance. That is the bargain struck and a bargain with a God supersedes that with a mortal,” the Eidolon of Sunor’s words were final. “Salla’s Will, relay my words to your generals. I shall tell the president. Their fates are in their hands.”
Al followed the rest of the eidolons out of Sunor’s Will’s chambers.
“Eager for a fight?” the Eidolon of Ekra said.
“I will obey. However, our lack of direct involvement may waste the months of effort raising their levels and the arms we’ve given them. There are powerful champions in several settlements that I was to face. Without me,” he lowered his voice, “our allies will take losses if they proceed with the plans as they are.”
“Their generals are like pups, wagging their tails as they trail after Salla’s Will for her crumbs of war wisdom,” the Eidolon of Ekra laughed. “I’d wager she will get them to refrain from striking all but the weakest settlements.”
“No bet, for I agree.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Perhaps, now that I have no tasks, I may be permitted to enter these Real Freedom Championships in the winter. I’ve never slain a dragon.”
“This one rules in the manner of this world’s people. I believe that Sunor’s Will mentioned Richellia specifically as one of the places that we aren’t allowed to interfere with.”
“Ah, but as a contestant I am not bound by the agreement.”
“You would argue semantics with a God, young as he is?”
Al had to think about that one.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
In the end he supposed not.
There was nothing left to do, but ask for permission and he wasn’t as arrogant as the other eidolons.
The only question was how to reach the young God.
He pondered the question even as the Eidolon of Sunor called him to attend to her and provide a looming presence for her meeting with the president and his subordinates.
He didn’t see the need.
Sunor’s Will was more than strong enough to make short work of all the men in the office even with their quaint super soldiers.
He supposed that base violence would erode her image as a wise leader.
There were many roles to fill.
Some led with pristine robes while some painted their hands in red.
“Alright, so this unknown actor said we have twenty four hours to pull out our assets? Let me be clear, he didn’t say anything about what they may or may not do until that deadline passes,” the president said.
The old man looked so weak. Somehow thin in the neck and arms, but fat in the face and middle.
Leaders were a reflection of their nation.
Al could only conclude that this America was weak. Although, that was uncharitable of him. No world ever fared well in the emergence of the spires. History had agreed unanimously on that account. And history was notorious for being contradictory since people always sought to control its narrative.
“That is the agreement, verbatim,” the Eidolon of Sunor said.
“They’re in place, so why don’t we use them. There’s nothing in that agreement of yours and besides, I, we, didn’t agree to anything with this person,” the president said.
“That choice is solely in your hands.”
“And you’re…” the president struggled to find the right word, “amending our initial treaty. You’re no longer providing direct combat support.”
“Specifically, to offensive actions against other human settlements. We will still provide support against monsters and we will defend you from attack, regardless of the nature of the aggressors.”
“Well, then, why don’t we put the big guy in a truck and drive it right in front,” the vice president pointed at Al. “They attack and you’re just defending yourself.”
“That will be a violation of the pact,” he said flatly.
“We’ve leveled up, armed up with your gracious help, but we can take it from here. It’s our land so it’s on us to take it back. Get me the Joint Chiefs.”
“Um… Mr. President,” an aide swallowed.
“What is it?”
“They’re meeting with the, uh, Eidolon of Salla.”
It was interesting to see the man’s face break out in red splotches as the heat rose.
Al could smell the liquor on the man’s breath despite the mint scent of the tooth cleaning paste these people used.
A poor leader.
Yet, the people had chosen him.
Al didn’t quite understand.
“I’m calling it. Operation Rightful Destiny is a go. Activate our assets. That doesn’t break your deal, does it?”
There was a surprising amount of venom in the president’s words to the Eidolon of Sunor.
“No, Mr. President,” she smiled with perfect grace.
“Good. If you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a reclamation project to coordinate.”
The dismissal was as brusque as it had ever been.
The Earth humans had never been anything other than obsequious near to the verge of prostrating themselves to the eidolons.
“Sunor’s Will. You hid your divine majesty.”
“Yes. Do you know why?”
Al took the time to consider his answer.
They had returned to the underground levels when he finally spoke.
“The president is weak, a liability in the long term. You no longer need him because you’ve identified suitable replacements.”
“That is correct. Whether through the next election or more direct events. This president will be replaced. Those that cling to a past that is forever beyond their reach will always be inferior agents compared to those that reach for the future.”
----------------------------------------
The target was the airbase a few miles northwest outside of the Atlanta territorial boundary.
Her objectives were to secure it, begin the claiming process and defend it from counterattack.
They had regained a semblance of their ability to project power by fixing what little remained of their aerial arsenal. Decades to make a comparative handful of planes and helicopters flight and combat worthy when compared with what they had before the spires when they were the greatest military power in human history stung the old guard’s pride.
She had been a young woman back then.
Just a year shy of graduating from the academy.
Now, she had real power, there might’ve have been some objections from a few jealous comrades, but most agreed that she was the strongest member of the combined armed forces.
Captain Patriot.
Politics.
By right and deed she should’ve been several rungs up the ladder, but the old men feared her power and thought that the illusion of distance protected their own.
They had truly lucked out that she was loyal to her oaths.
She grasped a length of exposed rebar already bent near the concrete base.
The white light within her warmed as she ripped the knotted steel free.
All they needed now was the go order from command before assaulting the air base.
Atlanta, in a surprising amount of strategic foresight had claimed it a few years ago when they, the rightful US Government had first sent a diplomatic team to inform the citizens of Atlanta that it was time to return to their rightful place.
The traitors rejected their proper duty and sent the diplomats back, alive and unharmed, which was important.
She didn’t wish to do more harm than what was absolutely necessary to her fellow Americans, regardless of how they saw themselves.
Violence only spurred greater violence.
It was her intention to do as little as possible to the air base’s defenders. A luxury of her and her elite units’ greater powers.
A second diplomatic team had repeated the kind offer.
Complete amnesty.
Any and all previous actions against the rightful US Government considered null and void.
Complete integration into American society befitting one’s power level along with other bonuses not offered to the rest.
This was the carrot to entice the strongest in Atlanta because once they were back in the fold the rest would have no choice to follow.
Unsurprisingly, the terms were rejected again.
Thus, Operation Rightful Destiny was a go, as of this morning.
Covert assets had been inserted into Atlanta as late as five years ago. This ranged from their own spies and assassins to mercenary bands. The latter group had been paid through channels that amounted to a tangled ball of yarn that would take years to untangle.
As of this moment, they would be engaged in targeted sabotage of critical infrastructure and indiscriminate sabotage to sow as much chaos as possible. Assassins would use these distractions to service specific individuals crucial to Atlanta’s civil governance and military organization.
This portion of the plan wasn’t to her liking, but her leaders had decided and they needed all the advantages they could grab now that the eidolons had declined to participate as they had initially promised.
Atlanta’s elite defenders had the edge over her unit.
Mostly, because of one man.
The same man that had, allegedly, gone out of his way to claim the Mount Rushmore territory just to deface the monument.
Re-taking it and restoring the monument to its rightful glory was one of the potential missions for her unit after this one.
The changes brought by the Terminus Decree had drastically shrunk the time an owner had to answer challenges before they lost their rights.
Neutralizing the traitor so he couldn’t defend it would simply things.
“Captain Patriot!” Lt. Helms or Black Hatter in the field kept her voice low.
“We have the go?”
“Negative. The call is to abort and fall back to staging area for orders.”
The blindfold over her eyes rustled with the furrowing of her brow.
“Confirm on magical channel.”
“Command code?” Black Hatter slipped the magitech radio off her back.
The device was built around an old SINCGARS and worked in two modes.
One was the old way, utilizing old towers they had claimed and made functional and newer units hidden on rooftops and high up in trees. Coverage was sparse outside of the capital and radio waves weren’t hard to intercept provided one had the right equipment. Skills and spells just made that easier.
The second method was more secure.
Enchanted crystals that could connect directly with each other only limited by range and mana draw.
The farther away, the greater the draw.
They had enough to connect to Command HQ fifty miles up the interstate for a short message.
“It’s ready, Ma’am.”
She took the corded phone from Black Hatter.
“Patriot. Alpha. Four. Six. Tango. Zero. One.”
“Confirmed,” the voice crackled in her ear.
“Requesting confirmation abort order? Over.”
“Mission abort, over.”
“Understood. Over.”
She wouldn’t learn the reason until her return to Command HQ.
The command briefing had been like a hornet’s nest knocked over.
Cross chatter filled the old police station as junior officers continuously entered and exited the command room with updated and corrected information.
It got to the point that two would enter the room with the second immediately contradicting the first.
In time they managed to peel back the fog of war. Enough that she was confident in the information she gave the rest of her unit.
“At one second past 06:00 every single covert asset compromised themselves.”
Eyes widened or narrowed.
Brows furrowed.
“They turned themselves in and divulged everything they knew.”
She let that sink in.
“As of now, we are on standby. I suspect that we will be tasked with asset retrieval.”
“Or disposal,” Lt. List said, “even if it sounds like its too late.”
Her men and women knew that she had shared all that she had, so they filled out after she dismissed them.
Lt. List, Death’s Dancer, lingered.
“Captain, do you have that same tickling sensation in the back of your mind?”
The long dead New American Republic.
The mission ten years ago.
Portions of it were solid in her memory. Like a bedrock foundation.
Portions of it were as fleeting as morning fog.
But suspicions were all they had.
Even talking about it didn’t help clear the fog.
They knew something was off, but couldn’t keep grasp on that thread long enough to pull.
“Yes.”
----------------------------------------
Fitzgerald Vaughn was a CIA Agent transitioning from a field role to a desk job when the spires had spared him from that indignity.
Like everything else the alphabet agencies had been gutted.
Monsters had done what enemies and political games had failed to do.
The multiple agencies had been slowly rebuilt into one.
His career was his class until he had gained a new class, which in time had consolidated.
The post-spires years had been kind to him.
The knife work in the bunkers between competing factions had turned into knife work above ground against the worst of men. Traitors, cannibals and the rest of the dregs.
Fitz had risen.
He was an old man now, bent and stooped, but not when he chose.
The class made him feel like a young man. Granted that was only in spurts when using Skills.
He was America, he liked to joke on account of his class.
USA.
United States Assassin.
Though, properly, it was United States of America Assassin.
He hoped that it wouldn’t change when they finally settled on what to call their combined intelligence agency.
That thought always made him chuckle.
Wouldn’t that be ironic?
CIA then, CIA now.
It felt good to be on the winning side.
The weight of the hidden blade nested in the launcher around his arm was reassuring.
A light jacket wasn’t out of place in the cool morning air.
The misty feeling on his face from the water blown in from the lake was refreshing.
He sipped his coffee and nibbled on a bagel as he waited for his target.
The mayor liked to grab a coffee and bagel on her way to the office.
Every single day with no variation of her timing and route.
What irked him the most was that she only had one bodyguard.
The complacency of it.
The arrogance in believing she was safe.
That was one thing he missed from the old days.
People knew their place before the spires gave them a false sense of their importance.
It was finally time to teach them the truth they could never escape.
The mayor approached, smiling and greeting people by name.
Her bodyguard was also all smiles.
The huge woman had a metallic sheen to her black skin. She wore a tank top showing off impressive assets and huge, chiseled biceps and forearms.
The mayor was supposed to be in her fifties, yet she looked fifteen years younger.
That bothered him and he told himself that dark skin hid wrinkles.
He couldn’t help but think of his reflection in the window. He buried the jealousy that he’d never admit beneath the certainty that, aside from physical appearance, he was better than her in every other way.
That and the fact that his blade was about to cut her throat.
The bodyguard was a threat… if she could get her hands on him.
He prepared to activate his Skills as his watch neared 06:00.
His watch buzzed at the same time that the mayor walked past his table, smiling down at him like she was better than him.
He stood and raised his hands.
“I surrender,” he said.
What?
“There is a knife in my sleeve and a gun in my waistband.”
The words poured out of his mouth.
The huge bodyguard grabbed his wrists. She moved faster than he had expected.
He grimaced at the crushing pressure.
“I am an assassin sent by the former US Government to murder you,” he said through clenched teeth.
Half of him couldn’t believe what the other half was doing and saying.
The latter was in complete control.
The scene repeated itself dozens of times across many settlements, towns and cities.
A saboteur carefully placed a bag of holding on the desk.
“My orders were to disrupt the events.”
The blue-haired girl with cerulean scales mixed in with her tanned skin reached into the bag all the way down to her elbow and pulled out a bomb.
She sniffed.
“Powerful!”
Her grin revealed fangs as her guardians recoiled from the bomb in her hand.
“I will answer all your questions.”
The assassin was strangely calm despite the sharp fingernails on his throat.
The vampire regarded the man with hunger. The man wouldn’t be missed by anyone that counted.
“No!” he snapped at himself. “I am in control!” he put in a call and tried not to notice the sweet blood.
“We were paid to cause trouble.”
Ledge goggled at the leader of the mercenary band.
Twenty strong, they had been enjoying the casinos, clubs and buffets.
He had them surrounded by his fellow Golden Eagles right in the middle of the front lobby.
“They just walked in and dropped their weapons?”
“Yeah.” The front desk clerk pointed at the pile on the floor.
“Chain them up. I want double guard on them. Put everyone on alert,” he barked. “I have to make a call.”
This stank of certain kind of trouble.