For a moment—an irrational flash of disbelief—Terry didn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing.

Terraform stepped through the new portal, his aura spreading wide to embrace his element, like a king entering his throne room.

But that wasn’t what had struck Terry’s mind blank.

Behind him strode Hunter, Marco, Juliette, and Louisa. Inexplicably, there had been no casualties.

Then, a voice called out, somehow echoing past their shoulders and over the cacophony of the battle around them.

“Get the hell out of the way. Don’t you have a fight to join!”

Juliette scuttled from the portal’s entrance, revealing a stone berth sliding across the ground.

On it, was Marlon, his legs twisted unnaturally, his scowl familiar.

Terraform and the other four high-ranking Awakened rushed to join the fight against Qui Shen while Marlon approached Terry and Tania on his sliding stone.

“Marlon!” Terry rushed to meet the surly man. “How?”

He waved away the question, looking about expectantly.

“Why’re these people still here? They’re just gettin’ in the way.”

“Dancer’s Traveler has us embargoed. I tried keeping the portal open…”

Marlon’s scowl deepened, his aura flexing up and away. A moment later, Terry felt Dancer’s Traveler match up against Marlon’s probing touch.

The contest lasted all of two seconds. To Terry’s senses, it was like a fencer’s duel. The unknown Traveler thrust—overconfident, victory expectant. Marlon parried, countered, and just like that, space answered his call.

When the portal slid across space, Marlon grunted and raised a brow at Terry.

“What?” Terry asked. The eyebrow only rose higher. “He’s an A-ranker!” He tried—and failed—to keep the whine out of his tone.

“He’s a rank amateur.” Terry felt Marlon’s aura slice out, rip through the Traveler’s frantic attacks and cut another portal through space. A second eyebrow raised in Terry’s direction. “And you’re my student.”

Terry double-taked between Tania, Lady, and Marlon.

“He had an Amplifier!”

“So did you!” Marlon countered.

Terry almost continued arguing, but realized Marlon wasn’t wrong. The man had accomplished what he couldn’t—faster and with much less effort.

“Okay,” he relented, his tone only slightly sarcastic, “this one apologizes for bringing shame to you, master.”

Marlon growled. “Save the sass, boy. Fight’s not—”

A ripple of aura slammed into them—and not just them.

Screams echoed out from the crowd that had been rushing through the two open portals. A second wave washed over them, infecting their auras and their minds. Raw terror, anger, a need for violence, all bundled into a heady cocktail that made Terry’s head swim. An unknown amount of time passed before he was able to push the infecting mood away. But when he did, he looked around to see the refugees turning on each other, racing around the cavern, or even leaving the safety of Tinker’s dome straight into a fiery death.

He turned to see Tania clutching her head, while Marlon’s eyes were just coming back into focus. His aura washed out, shoving away the Hypnotist’s influence and forcing some semblance of control back into their eyes.

“We have to counter the enemy Hypnotist—”

A hand touched his shoulder and a tingle electrified his skin, sending his mind darting through the weeds of his past.

I know that feeling…

He wanted to whirl around, cut his eyes toward that hand’s owner. But he felt mired in place, like he was in a dream and couldn’t awaken.

Slow—so painfully slow—he turned and met the gaze of the woman behind him.

“…Mom?”

----------------------------------------

Their secret journey through the stone had been perhaps the most harrowing of Héng Shí’s fraught-filled life.

His Majesty, the Eternal Flame, had never seemed so human in all the decades Héng Shí had served the Burning Court.

Of course, he’d never seen the Eternal Flame without his flame armor, but that was the point entirely.

With them, came His Majesty’s God-Tier Hypnotist, who had not deigned to impart her name. But in his mind, he had unavoidably dubbed her Dú Shé, Venomous Snake, for the way she caressed his mind such that he didn’t notice her touch until it was gone, leaving venom in her wake.

Three Demigod-Tier Duelists joined them, along with a single Amplifier of the same rank—all he had believed he could reliably sneak into striking range of the large underground procession.

The presence of the two Gods at his side on any other day would have had his limbs quaking. But the circumstances—and more accurately, the consequences—of his role had been enough to send bile burning up his throat.

And just when those ulcers had been on the cusp of fading…

But somehow, against all odds, he had ferried His Majesty and the others to within striking distance without any alarm or flicker of aura to signal they’d been sensed.

Only as they’d gotten closer had Héng Shí understood that the enemy’s Stone Elementalists—his brothers, in any other scenario—were of low rank.

Naively, he’d allowed himself to hope—hope that he would survive. Or if not survive, at least not bring punishment upon his family.

The Snake’s aura dulled the senses of the milling low ranks above them, allowing His Majesty to arrive undetected. Later, he’d felt Her induce panic, terror, and violence.

At some point, a vast, incomprehensible…terrible aura had unfurled above them.

A God has awakened…and His wrath knows no bounds.

An aura flared to meet it, smaller, weaker…less. But a flicker of a suicidal thought had arisen in his heart.

Héng Shí hoped against all reason that this lesser flame would rise to the challenge of snuffing out that which was said to be Eternal.

His mind stayed blank—so carefully blank—but his heart burned with naked desire.

It was only when he felt another God join the fight that he even acknowledged his heart’s desire. And when he felt another comparable aura unleash itself, his thoughts rebelled against his tight control, lashing about within his mind, open for the Snake to read.

Only her desperate battle with the unknown God saved him from being outed.

With a delicate, glacially slow movement, he slid his eyes toward the Snake, and he watched.

Her eyes burned, Her face contorted hideously with desperate concentration. Her very limbs shook with the latent rage and the blatant effort.

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But more importantly than any of that, was the fluctuation of Her aura as this unknown force opposed a Goddess…and was winning.

The realization scalded him. They were losing. There was a chance these western Gods quenched the Eternal—

He cut off his thoughts with an iron, desperation-fueled, will.

In the midst of his internal struggle, he realized that the Snake had said something to him. He hurriedly doubled at the waist, averting his eyes and aura.

“A thousand pardons, Your—”

“Quiet!” she barked. “Take us back to the army.” Her aura was under attack, undirected and weakened, but the burning look in Her eyes might as well have been the mental attack of a God-Tier Hypnotist. “Now!”

For a deadly moment, his mind blanked, his words somehow moving faster than thought.

“What?”

Her expression faltered for the briefest flicker of a moment, then her eyes narrowed into a hawk’s gaze.

He had never bowed so low in his life.

“Pardon, Goddess!” Death’s touch lingered over him—he felt it—and then, it dissipated. “As soon as the Burning One—”

Her next words flashed hotter than any fire he’d ever felt.

“Now.”

“But…His Excellency—”

That touch returned, like a dagger’s edge pressed to his throat.

“You question me…?”

Her voice was suddenly low, full of venom, clutching at his heart.

But before he could respond, he felt an aura pulse all around them, searching…hunting.

The Snake’s towering pressure dissipated, withdrawing, concealing them in a tight bubble that he understood was hiding them from this other force.

She was losing—cowering—and was abandoning the fight.

Abandoning the Eternal Flame.

There was no plan; no conscious thought, no physical or mental trigger for Her to glean. His mind simply pocketed his intention and his aura acted.

Stone rippled away from them, responding to his aura’s touch. Above them, it slid away, retracting like a motorized skylight. Sounds struck the group, a cacophony of screams, burning flames, and grinding stone.

At the exact same moment, the aura struck them as well.

He felt the Goddess’ shock, Her understanding. She reached for him with Her aura, injecting a slideshow of horror that shook him ragged.

Your family will suffer like nothing you could even imagine. They shall burn, but never be allowed to die. Their skin shall be flensed, then regrafted. Terror, pain, a terrible, bone-deep longing for death—

A voice echoed down into their stone alcove, cutting through the Snake’s words and aura. A trace of humor touched that voice, like its owner were inwardly chuckling at some inside joke.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!”

Héng Shí looked up to see a woman standing above them on the edge of the opening he’d crafted, her eyes tinkling with silver magic as they locked onto the Snake. She struck a cutting figure, her face nearly as striking as her eyes; stunning—in a western sort of way.

She smiled down at them, then must have noticed something on their faces, because she let out a light, tinkling laugh.

Her words came out in a slow, high, sing-song voice.

“Found…you.”

----------------------------------------

Light, Fire, Stone, Artifact weaponry, and physical flesh, collided in a display that lit up the cavern and echoed like a series of building demolitions.

But Terry didn’t see or hear the clash of the S-rankers—couldn’t. All he could do, every ounce of power, fleck of hard-earned skill, and modicum of talent, was devoted to opening—or keeping open—the portals evacuating the refugees.

Despite Marlon’s earlier bravado, it was a constant battle to maintain their foothold on the surface for one simple reason.

Hopper—the S-ranked Traveler from Team Dallas—had joined the fight.

Marlon had been right; the Traveler they had faced earlier—though an A-ranker—had been unskilled. Trial and error had shown Terry the way to beat the man and he was now facing off against said Traveler with relative success.

Hopper, on the other hand, was not an amateur. In fact, she seemed to have the advantage against Marlon and was slowly edging ground away from the man despite his mastery.

And still, they had held out almost long enough. Nearly three-quarters of the refugees were through one of the portals and it was looking like they would all make it through to safety.

Or, if not safety, surely not certain fiery death.

That was when he felt it.

A moment of stillness passed over the entire cavern, the aura straining to shift and finding no purchase to move. The screams and panic silenced, almost in deference to the powerful pulse that echoed around them.

Terry cut his attention away from space, instinctively knowing where to look.

Across the cavern, well outside Tinker’s shield, two men appeared to embrace.

It was only after he magnified his vision with Master of Light did he understand what he was seeing.

Silver clutched Qui Shen’s burning form with one hand, his skin metallic—though blackened and scorched.

And his other hand…was elbow deep in Qui Shen’s chest, shoving in and through to the far side.

The flames prismed, flashing through colors—white, blue, red, yellow, and finally, extinguishing.

In the flame’s place, an old, frail man gasped in surprise, his eyes not quite finding the face of his killer.

Silver shoved Qui Shen away with a growl, his metal hand clutching a blackened, bleeding ball of meat that might have once been a heart.

But none of that was what had caused the stillness, the silence.

Flashing across every man and woman’s senses, were the pulses of the Elemental Singularity slowly rising from Qui Shen’s burning husk.

It seemed to hang there, warping time and space around it in a way that reminded Terry of the Metaphysical Singularity right before he’d sent it flying through the earth’s crust.

It was calling out. To everyone or…someone.

The pull of space snapped him from his reverie, and before he could react—even before Marlon could react—Dancer was stepping through a portal across the cavern, right beside Tinker, Silver, Terraform, and the corpse of Qui Shen.

A heartbeat later, another person stepped through space. Then, another. And another. Until six S-rankers—including Dancer—arrived within the span of a moment.

And Terry recognized each and every one of them—by reputation, if not personal interaction.

Hopper of Team Dallas came first, followed by the other two S-rankers of her team, Purge and Lift. The ambient aura fuzzed as Purge arrived, the S-ranked Disruptor affecting everyone around him. Lift was the Air Elementalist, capable of using her element to remove atmosphere, suffocate her foes, or alter air pressure to crush and maim.

Behind them came the two remaining S-rankers of the Council. Reach was first to arrive, his chin held high, proud and confident. His System-awarded polearm was clutched loosely in his hands. But even at a distance, Terry could sense that the man was coiled like a spring, the tension ready to unleash without warning. Then his eyes flicked over toward Silver, widening for a moment before he subconsciously took a step closer to Dancer.

Static was the last of the Council to arrive and the hairs on the back of Terry’s neck and all along his arms stood upright. The air felt alive with electricity, like the moment before lightning struck. He knew from HeroWatch that the S-ranked Catalyst could literally charge the air and form bolts of lightning, though rumors were that his control was somewhat lacking the finesse of an Elementalist.

Then, the last S-ranker stepped through the portal, and Terry felt a surprising warmth in his chest.

His eyes met his grandfather’s, a flash of understanding perhaps, passing between them before the Emperor turned his attention to the largest gathering of S-rankers since the Splintering.

For a moment, no one said anything. The air stilled as if in deference to the gravity of the gathering. The exposed Elemental Singularity pulsed quietly, subdued. Terry had the sense that even it was waiting to see what would come next.

Dancer took one step forward and the aura in the large cavern surged in response.

“We’ve come to secure this Singularity,” he proclaimed. An aura of command buttressed his voice, singing deep into Terry’s unconscious that this was a man to be obeyed.

Silver’s blackened metal skin retracted, revealing the familiar face, the silver bun, and the tight grimace on his lips. Behind him, Sol and Terraform moved toward his flanks in obvious solidarity.

The threat in that simple move was as clear as a punch to the gut and the spectrum of expressions on the newly-arrived S-rankers flickered through fear, annoyance, and in some cases, anticipation.

“And by what right do you claim this Singularity?” Silver asked. “You lot ain’t done nothing but show up after the fight’s over and done with.” His eyes flashed with silver magic. “Like cowards.”

Dancer didn’t move an inch—didn’t even blink—as he regarded Silver. Some of the other S-rankers bristled at the man’s proclamation, but they all looked to Dancer for guidance.

After a five-count that stretched into eternity, Dancer spoke.

“By right of might, Gunny. There’s only three of you and eight of us—”

A voice cut across Dancer, airy and bright—almost laughing.

“Four, actually.”

Terry’s mother approached Silver from behind, an unconscious woman held in a child’s carry. She dumped the woman unceremoniously, her eyes never leaving Dancer’s.

A flutter that he couldn’t identify filled his chest.

Mom was alive. She was here!

The emotions he’d felt when she’d first arrived had been confusing. Excitement, suddenly tempered by anger…then, a terrible longing to embrace her, throw his body into her arms and just let his worries and responsibilities drain away.

The immediacy of the fight had cut across all that, forcing her away with barely a word and a light touch.

And now…it seemed like the impending fight might dash any hope of a reunion.

The wave of anger that washed over Dancer’s aura could be felt even from across the cavern. He reached up to rub at his face, the picture of an adult forced to deal with the rebellious defiance of children.

“Penelope, there’s no reason for us to fight. You and your father can’t possibly hope to win. You’re outnumbered two to one, weakened from your fight with Qui Shen, and—” His eyes trailed away, locking onto Terry’s. “—your son stands firmly in the collateral.” His tone was sad, resigned, but also brittle, like a man putting on an act that he barely cared to maintain.

His mother’s gaze turned toward him then, her expression flickering, her resolve draining.

Then, a voice cut across the tension, powerful and familiar.

“Actually, not entirely accurate.”

His grandfather—his other grandfather—stepped past Dancer, the air warping as his scythe and bone mask were summoned into existence.

“Terrence…” Dancer hissed. “I give you a second chance and this is how—”

“Fuck you, Disco,” the Emperor growled. “I grovel before no man.”

Aura surged, terrible, towering, dwarfing Terry, the lower ranks still stupidly gawking at the stand off, everyone.

A quiet, nearly missed sound, interrupted the growing wave of aura.

Tinker had cleared his throat, taken a single step from where he had been watching, and pivoted smoothly to face Dancer, Team Dallas, and his fellow Council members.

“I will not be a party to a second Tempest situation. If I must form the deadlock, then I will.” His mask irised back into place, his voice deep and modulated. “It’s now six versus six. Tell us all, Dancer, shall we shatter earth, air, and the very fabric of this world for the entertainment of those eldritch beings pulling our strings? Will you march to their beat so blindly—”

Dancer’s aura crashed down, drowning Tinker in a wave that ripped the man’s very essence to shreds.