With bullyrag minutia out of the way, it was time to get real.

Ahead of Zan and his mates was a vast armed and armored host laying siege to an important member of the royal administration. This host was in the process of storming the villa. If they did nothing, the invaders would secure an important victory.

Zan wasn't going to let that happen.

"Shall we head straight into the host?" Jiehong said.

"By ourselves?" Zan said.

"Our allies will soon be at our backs. I think we will be fine. You have bows, right? Rain down a few arrows to clear the way. I will support you with strikes," Whiskey said.

Seeing no issue with the plan, Zan and Company rode into position. On a ridge overlooking the enemy force, Zan and everyone removed their bows and notched an arrow into place. Zan pulled, making sure his feet were in the right position.

A notification popped up once he released the arrow. [Miss]

He missed? He grunted to himself. Normally, he was a good archer. Or decent, anyway. Back in his village, he hunted with the adults (almost) more than he labored in the lumberyard with most everyone else. Zan pulled another arrow into place. Released. [Hit]

From this distance, Zan could not tell for sure if he had hit his target. Not on sight alone, at least. The Command Center System, however, knew with certainty.

'Awesome!' Zan thought to himself. 'One down. Or one wounded, anyway.

Zan slung another arrow into place. Fired. [Hit]

Repeating the process, Zan moved more arrows into his bow and continued to fire like a machine. The system notified him of every hit and every miss. Zan wondered aloud 'I wonder what my percentage is of hit over miss?' He was firing so quickly, he hadn't the time to do anything other than focus on aiming. Thankfully, the System had his back. [Zan: Your Hit-Over-Miss Ratio is 75-25]

'Neat,' Zan thought. 'It's true, then. The System is always listening. Good to know...

"Okay!" Whiskey declared. "We've taken out enough to give us some breathing room."

"Great!" Zan replied. "Jiehong! You take charge and open a path for me to clean up the stragglers in your wake!"

Jiehong replied not with words but a grunting roar as he ran toward the still-charging enemy formation who, despite their number of decommissioned automotrons, paid no attention to Zan's Company as they charged the rear ranks.

Jiehong had with him Whiskey's scouts. He slammed into the enemy, giving credence to the confusion he caused by allowing the scouts to dole-out measured strikes with their short-swords. Over and over again Jiehong punched massive holes into the enemy; Jiehong's charge always punched a hole a dozen strong or more; Zan marveled at how at full-power Jiehong was a spectacle like no other on the battlefield. From this gap, the scouts would step in and sow further havoc by striking those among the enemy who processed the chaos more swiftly than others, leading to a deeper level of dissension. It was this level where Zan worked and swung his blade with a familiarity learned from previous battles. Using his basic combat spells freely -- as the Slipstream still grew strong in the air -- Zan was not afraid to cast a greater degree of offensive magic than he normally relied upon in these field encounters. Therefore, large streaks of fire launched themselves as chain-lightning through the ranks of the fel-foe: one explosion gave rise to the next, compassing many automotrons spared by Jiehong's barging-charge and the scouts practiced jabbing.

It was not Zan's explicit intent to cast a sweeping (chain-)fire spell, but sometimes life simply worked out that way. He had heard of the spell, but nothing more. Until now, the limits of his magic had been simplistic (and barely controlled) bursts of flames. Not something as complex as what he somehow managed to unleash upon the enemy. Although Zan did not always find himself re-casting the 'sweeping flame' spell he recognized, he could not, not cast it either. At some point, Zan knew, he would have to talk with a magical expert at how everything worked.

[System Notification: Zan. Magical Reserve Half-Depleted.]

Half-depleted? So, he still had half of his stored magical energy? That was good for Zan to know. With practice, he might be able to intuitively manage his magic intake and use. Based on how much magic he used and how often he heard the System letting him know.

"Keep up the fighting!" Zan urged his compatriots.

Though Zan used magic heavily with the Slipstream's presence in the sky, he knew it would not always be there. It could go away at any moment.

While he fought martially -- with blade and buckler -- Zan settled into a fighting style which saw an automotron decommissioned with a mere three blows of his blade. The first blow was a simple motion: hold buckler up, block blow; the second motion: gripping the blade tightly, slash across the golem's body; this second motion shattered into splinters the golems stilted excuses for hands. Finally, the third blow: powerful downward blow, with momentum gained from the second blow's redirection of kinetic energy. And done! A golem lays in pieces. Zan repeated the process for every golem he fought.

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Although the three-pronged process for decommissioning a golem worked every time, Zan still depleted far more of his stamina than he would have liked in just doing the motions. Mutiple that by the many, many enemies who survived his allies' assault, and Zan knew he would be exhausted before long. Looking over the many enemies yet to be overcome, Zan realized he would need help from the Loyalists soon.

Glancing toward the sky, Zan saw the Slipstream start to fade. He knew enough about his world to know this: once the Slipstream began its fading for the day, how much longer and how much one could draw from it were limited.

Zan rose his hand to the sky and uttered the holy prayer. He felt himself fill with magical energy.

[Magical Reserves Restored] the system said unnecessarily.

"Guys! Make sure you restore your mana before the Slipstream fades!" Zan yelled.

But they did not hear him on the first yell. Or the second.

Frustrated, this was an element of combat Zan did not like -- the noise.

Taking in a deep breath, Zan was about to scream at the top of his lungs when he thought better of it.

"Screen Master?" Zan spoke. "Does the headset have any kind of communicative abilities with my associates?"

"It does! It will take a large amount of magical energy to activate it, however. Fill the device with all of the magical reserve you have by touching your hands to it. You should still have time to restore your energy via the Slipstream once you do this," the Screen Master replied.

Not wanting to think through a nightmare scenario where Zan had no magic in the middle of a battle, Zan did as he was told, instead, and touched his headset, channeling all the magical energy he could into it. The process of magical channeling was easy enough. What was not easy was doing so while fighting enemies. And with his friends out of earshot, Jiehong, Whiskey, and her scouts, would be of no help to Zan as he fought and channeled.

Fighting and channeling magical energy, though, was a misnomer. One did not do both. One could not do both...

So, while Zan channeled his magical energy into his headset, he ran from the automotrons.

Zan did not consider his actions to be a 'retreat.' And neither were they endangering his friends backs or flanks. Still able to swing a sword when he had to, Zan kept his distance when a golem got too close. With so many prowling the field -- dozens alone in his immediate area -- this meant a lively physical routine for Zan, who constantly had to move himself or swing a blade even haphazardly to put space between he and an enemy.

Blessings to the gods, however! It did not take Zan long to channel his magical energy into his headset. Maybe five minutes, if he had to guess? Zan should have been upset at that fact. A short channeling time meant little energy within to be channeled. This fact didn't upset him, though. Why would it? Zan was a teenager. He still had a long way to go before his mana reserves became a source of pride.

Finishing his channeling -- and feeling emptier than a recently dumped trash can -- Zan heard the Screen Master's voice. "You have done it, Zan! You have imbued your headset with enough magical energy to advance it to its first post-functional level. We can talk about the details of this later. For now, it means you will be able to call upon long-distance communication between you and your allies. I will remotely activate the function now. Once I do, the System will provide a notification for you. Say 'yes' to activate the function."

Zan said he would. Moments later he heard the system say, "Activate Echo-Speak Beetles?"

Not knowing what an 'echo speak beetle' was, Zan said, "Yes!"

A popping sound came from his headset. Like pieces of it had launched themselves away from the headset. Zan next heard a buzzing sound.

In front of him flew several small, glittering insects. Only, upon closer inspection, Zan realized these insects were not of the natural world, but of his own metallic and artificial: the Screen Master spoke into his ear, likely having seem the beetles himself through his visual feed. "Zan. What you see before you are Echo-Speak Beetles. Sigma-Prime invented them. Instruct them to go to an ally and they will fly to them and be close to their ear providing them with your words whenever you design to speak and command them. This will allow you to stay in constant contact anywhere on the battlefield."

"Awesome!" Zan said, relieved there was a function to help him in his time of need. Clicking off from the Screen Master, Zan thanked Simulacrum for his aid. Then he turned to the beetles and said, Go to Whiskey. Go to Jiehong!"

The beetles obeyed Zan without hesitation. How they knew who to go to he did not know, but they came from his headset, which had (literally) writhed itself into his skull, skin, and maybe brain, so it is possible the beetles had some low-level physic connection.

Moments later he heard another system notification. [Contact Established with Allied Units]

Now, what could he do? Did he just speak? Like with Luxley's talking to him via that strange horn? Without time to argue with himself, Zan simply speak and said, "Whiskey. Jiehong. Can you hear me?"

"Hearing you loud and clear, buddy!" Jiehong said.

"Same!" Whiskey said, Zan hearing her cleave into the enemy.

"Excellent. Long story short, these bug-things are from the headset. They will hover close to your ears and deliver our voices to each other. The Screen Master said we can communicate anywhere on the battlefield."

Both Jiehong and Whiskey grunted their approval. Zan said, "To activate it, I had to take a step back from the fighting. I had to fill my headset with all of my magic. Once I re-fill, I will rejoin your guys!"

"Sounds good to me, Zan! But please hurry. We are cracking the enemy's outer ranks. But we need help!" Whiskey said.

"I know!" Zan agreed. "From my vantage, it doesn't look like the loyalists have entered the field, yet. What on earth is taking them?"

Jiehong made a bad sound. But said to Zan, "Then we need our own strategy! Any ideas?"

Considering his options -- his tools most importantly -- Zan took only a few moments to think of a plan. He hoped his quickness of thinking did not mean it was a terrible plan. He said, "Yeah. I have a plan. Whiskey. Continue to rain arrows. Jiehong. Withdraw to my location with Whiskey's scouts. It's bike time!"