6 : 194 : 14 : 00 : 05

You may have gathered by now, but the story of my life isn’t always tarts and lollipops. There are sometimes head-popping massacres, family tragedies, and vicious face-offs with evil too. Admittedly, a big share of the blame in many of those screwy situations lies with the dashing angel in the mirror. I can openly admit that. I’m not going to bitch and whine about it either. It is what it is. I’m grown-up enough to live with my mistakes.

Well, in most cases.

But a few of my flubs stand in a league of their own, legendary enough to warrant an honorary mention of their own.

This bit is definitely one.

We may only be at the first part of the adventure now, but we already have an item in the very top four, ranked securely between an attempted sexual assault and asking the wrong person for love advice.

I assure you, number three and five are not in any way related.

When you go and drop the ball, the worst part isn't necessarily the exact moment where it all goes wrong. Many times, the part that comes after is much worse. The aftermath for this particular incident unfolds in our own castle Menneroix, in Irifan’s grandiose office, which also happens to play the stage to another spectacular misstep later on my career.

But never mind about that.

“...”

I lean on the door in the shadowy hallway, alone, hyperventilating, and try hard to come up with the least painful way to break the news. But it’s no use. The part of my brain reserved for creative thinking is completely jammed. There’s simply no way around it. No words so nice that they could make the reality they represent seem less awful. No hope of turning things into smiles again.

The only thing I can do—the very least I can do—is give it straight and honest, and face whatever follows.

If that’s a solid punch in the face, or two, I could take it. I’d be thankful for that. If it's unemployment, so be it. I'm ready.

Oh, like hell I'm ready. How could ever be ready for something like this? But it has to be done.

I draw a deep breath, as you should before a big plunge, push the door open and go in.

I don’t catch hands.

“Zero!”

The moment she sees me, Irifan jumps up from her seat and hurries across the room to me. She throws her arms around my neck and catches me into a tight squeeze. It’s not the kind of cordial, distant, no-boobs-touching-embrace you’d give your subordinate. Especially an incompetent, underperforming subordinate. It’s a full-on body contact, and my rodent brain starts to get funny ideas.

“Thank goodness...” Irifan whispers into my ear, her face buried deep in my hair, her voice laden with a blend of relief and grief to the point of breaking. “Thank goodness you’re all right…!”

But I can’t answer that hug, even if I want to.

“Irifan...” I force my voice out and take a step back.

The unguarded, compassionate light shining in her agate eyes makes saying it even harder than it should be.

Being hit and yelled at would’ve made this so much easier.

But even if it kills me inside, I have to deliver my report. My final duty.

“I—I’m fine,” I assure her. “We’re fine. But…”

But.

Dying, or not dying, that’s not the problem.

I have to tell her.

I mean, she should already know the gist of it. But I have to remind her, in case she’s lost the big picture.

No matter how painful it is. Even if things can never be the same again between us, I have to tell her.

“Irifan, I——I failed.”

I fucked it all up.

Big time.

6 : 234 : 08 : 50 : 49

After a lot of silver-tongued arm-twisting, flagrant threats, blackmail, and words of honor, Vice Commander Serilon of the Sultan’s Sabers grows ever so slightly more understandable towards our glorious purpose.

We’re also forced to break our promise to Master Endol and spill the beans about the Heaven’s Pillar and the core, and Hume, and—well, practically everything that matters. Our only other alternative is to kill the guy right there and then scour through the vast palace complex in the dirtiest way imaginable, a trail of corpses in our wake, until we buy the farm ourselves.

We need this guy to work with us, whatever it takes.

Fortunately, he understands speech, and the full story gets Serilon to simmer down, by a lot.

Instead of more colorful words about blood and pain in our nearby future, he turns into a downright gentleman again, cool as a cucumber. Our information about the Pillar’s reactor chamber in particular interests him a great deal. It turns out they already knew about the vault. The tale of the “holy ground” upon which the palace is built and the secrets hidden below have been passed down in the Sultan’s Sabers from generation to generation.

We should totally have a tradition like that too. I could start one myself, if no one else has better ideas. It could be the myth of “what happened to the butt plug I got from the cabaret”, shared to our new initiates, and would later become the subject of a treasure hunting-cryptography-blockbuster starring a washed-out yesterday’s A-lister.

Returning to the topic.

We have Sephram put on the armor of the guard he knocked out, and with the Vice Commander in tow we head out to take a closer look at the basement floor. Whatever lies in the far corners of the ruins, I'm told no one has been able to get in before, so we're all pretty stoked. Or, I think we are.

Serilon should have no reason to backstab us until he sees if we can do anything his people couldn’t down there, but I hand him a friendly word of advice as we depart, just in case,

“Any funny moves on the way, and I’ll pop off your head like your body’s a well-throttled bottle of champagne. And it’s not a euphemism for a blowjob—though probably a lot more pleasurable, for me.”

Sephram gives me a very awkward look. “Of all the people in the world, you had to take strippers for role models?”

“Why, I’m at the tender age where any naughty things seem cool to me. And for your information, ‘no funny moves’ doesn’t apply to moonwalking. The mode of motion is entirely up to you. Let’s roll.”

We exit the office and head out of the Guard HQ.

Exactly as I planned, having a high-ranking officer in our company makes sure nobody gives us any extra trouble. Sephram looks nothing like the locals, but with the spangenhelm and aventail, he’s disguised well enough, as long as you don't look closer.

Me? I’m cosplaying as a tourist.

“If you take whatever is in the vault,” Serilon speaks as we march on, “His Heavenly Majesty’s life will be safe?”

“Hume has no reason to raid the palace if the core isn’t here anymore,” Sephram answers. “If all goes well, the war itself will never happen.”

“We need to let Hume know we have the core, right?” I ask him. “How?”

“We should be able to pass a message through our mutual associate, Mr Maohen. I know a few names from his inner circle, who can be expected to get the word to him.”

“And what will happen if the core is removed from the Pillar?” Serilon interjects. “By your words, these towers were made to preserve our world. In other words, removing the power source will disable the mechanism the Gods made for us, and will bring forth the demise of the planet. Am I wrong?”

“...”

Hate to admit it, but the guy’s got a point.

“If that is the case,” the soldier continues, “even letting the whole of Nikéa burn to the ground would be a small price to pay in exchange for preserving the future of the planet and life on it.”

“We can still save both,” Sephram insists. “I don’t know what Hume wants with the core, but we have no intention to let him keep it. After the threat is dealt with, we’ll return it back to its place, where it can keep doing its job for the rest of eternity. This is only a temporary measure, to prevent the worst from coming to pass.”

Which would be the scenario where Alberion razes this country, Hume uses the core’s power to destroy the other realms, and then the world itself implodes. Everybody loses.

Then again, Master Endol said there were five towers originally.

Maybe losing one isn’t enough to cause a total wipeout? I guess that’s what Hume's counting on.

But if this is all forbidden knowledge to mortals, then who told Hume about it…?

“And you never once thought of using this core for yourselves?” Serilon continues to ask, walking ahead of us in quick strides. “Wield its unfathomable power to destroy your enemies? Use it as a deterrent to force peace onto the realm on your own terms? It would make short work of this grand mission of yours, which would be otherwise nigh impossible. May you still claim to be able to resist its temptation?”

Sephram, the back number he is, isn’t provoked.

“If it can heat up my tea for me faster than a stove can, I could be tempted. Otherwise, I hardly have any use for such a thing.”

“Can you say the same of your employers and colleagues? None among you would desire celestial power to their own ends?”

“What are you, the devil’s advocate?” I lose my patience and poke his back. “We’re the world police, not terrorists. I already hold the chair of the morally suspect hothead of the gang, we don’t have any room left for backstabbers.”

We follow Serilon up the humongous stairs into the main building, straight through the front door. The sentries there greet us with doubtful faces, but the Vice Commander assures them with a passing nod and we go on unchecked.

The royal residence is every bit as complicated inside as it seems outside. The map we had gave a rough idea of what to expect, but seeing it in three dimensions with all the bells and whistles is a whole other thing. I’d be lost here in under a minute. But thanks to our reliable tour guide, we don't need to count on Sephram’s memory to lead us either.

I’m a little worried by how Serilon takes us left and right and upstairs and downstairs with no clear logic, like he’s only stalling for time. But right as I’m about to remind the officer of his mortality, we come to a stop in front of a big, polished copper door in the basement, far removed from all other rooms.

“This is the door to the Sultan’s treasury,” Serilon tells us. “The vault you seek is past there. Allow me to open the way.”

The man takes out a ring of keys from his coat pocket. He singles out a heavy cast iron key, shaped like a fishbone. You'd never think that crude, ugly old key has anything to do with a door this fancy. Serilon fits the key into the small hole in the middle of the door, but doesn’t put it all the way in. He first turns it right by forty-five degrees, then pushes it further in and turns it left, a hundred degrees. Then he pushes it all the way in and turns it a full circle clockwise.

Several loud clicks ring out from both sides of the heavy door, and it pulls in on its own. Wow.

A black abyss awaits beyond.

“Do you have light?” Serilon asks.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Do I have light?” I parrot sarcastically and snap my fingers.

A bright, colorless ghost light appears blazing on my palm.

Technically, adding the flame animation is totally pointless, a basic emission would cost less energy to maintain, but it looks cooler this way. We need to set the mood, don't we?

Serilon leads us down a long set of stairs that take us deeper underground.

Deeper and deeper into darkness, like we’ve become locked in a satirical portrayal of the working man’s life. Just thinking about coming back up the same way makes my thighs cry uncle.

At the stairs' end, we come into a big chamber with a concave ceiling. The chamber is shaped like a keyhole, with a straight corridor ending in a cylindrical back room, maybe as long as a tennis court.

And the whole room is loaded with treasure from wall to wall.

Heaps of gold leaning on the side walls. Life-sized statues made of white gold and marble in the image of ancient rulers and animal-headed spirits. Sculptures of ebony. Chests of redwood, stuffed over the limit with coins and gaudy necklaces, earrings, and bracelets, ingots of silver, of platinum, orichalcum. There are rings sporting colossal gems; beautifully cut rubies and sapphires and emeralds. There are weapons that are like works of art, and works of art that shake your soul, and more and more and more, so much that my head starts spinning as I look at it.

And to think there was a time when I thought dry tree bark was the height of wealth.

There are torches on holders attached to the walls. Sephram goes to take one and fires it up with the Rune of Ignition, so we have more light. Thousands of shiny surfaces reflect the warm torch light back and it really brings out the best of gold.

Serilon notices the hungry look in my eyes.

“I trust that while you are able to resist the temptation of the core’s godly powers, you are also above laying your hands on the Sultan’s earthly wealth.”

“What?” I shrug innocently. “Heroes need food and trendy clothes too. A new iPhone wouldn't hurt either. Would the big guy even notice if a thing or two went missing?”

Only one sapphire like that and I'd be set for life.

“Every item in this room is labeled and cataloged,” the officer tells me. “Trust me, if so much as a pearl went missing, we would know. And the punishment that awaits those who steal from His Heavenly Majesty is death.”

What a scrooge he is.

“And it doesn’t bother you how your people are starving out there, while you hide a hoard like this under your asses?”

“Sadly, human beings cannot eat gold,” Serilon only answers me. “And neither can gold be used to buy food while trade is restricted by your righteous Kingdom.”

“...”

What the hell. It's all so messed-up.

Sephram’s hand lands on my shoulder and shakes me from my ugly thoughts.

“Come on. We're not here for this.”

“Right.”

We go deeper to the back of the treasury. Serilon approaches the wall on the left side. There’s a circular indentation with a little sideways bar, which the painted images cleverly disguise. The officer grips the bar.

“Young man,” he calls out. “I will need your help with this one. Go to the other wall. There is an identical mechanism there, directly opposite of mine. Both must be operated in tandem to open the way.”

Sephram does as told and goes to find the corresponding handle.

“Clockwise, on my mark,” Serilon instructs him, while I stand back and watch. “Three, two, one...now.”

They turn their handles, which appears to take a bit of manly effort. Shortly after, a low boom shakes the chamber, when an unseen mechanism gets to work.

In the next moment, the floor under my feet starts to cave in.

“Whoa!”

I dive to safety as the center of the floor, left clear of treasures, disassembles into smaller pieces and drops down.

Yes. Disassembles. It’s not simply breaking apart.

Manipulated by an invisible power even my senses can’t make heads or tails of, the floor rearranges itself into a loose, downward spiraling tower of stone bars, like an abstract wind chime. The pieces halt mid-fall and are left dangling in the air with nothing to support or connect them.

You don't suppose that's meant to be a ladder?

“By the Fey...” Sephram mouths as he steps closer. I wholeheartedly agree.

As far as I can tell, there’s no actual magic at work.

It’s as if gravity itself has been enslaved to the mechanism, by sheer technology.

“The vault is below,” Serilon tells us. “You will need to climb down.”

“How far down is it, anyway?” I ask, gazing into the lightless pit. “Whoever designed this thing didn’t give a hoot about the user experience.”

Serilon gives me a look that effectively sucks out all humor from the room. A grim look laced with horror. And with a hollow voice devoid of warmth, he says,

“I reckon these stairs weren’t meant for human hands and feet.”

Too spooky.

“Well,” I tell Serilon, “I hope you haven’t been skipping out on the gym, ‘cos you’re coming there with us.”

“One of us has to stay and keep watch,” Sephram says. “We'd be in trouble if the way closed on us without warning, or guards came by.”

One of us? Since I’m the only one with the skills to identify the reactor core and we can’t count on Captain Penny-Pincher to have our backs, my senior agent is the only real choice as a bench jockey.

He’s not just trying to avoid going down the spooky hole, is he? It's not like I'm dying to jump down there either. Why couldn’t this be one of those stories where the heroine gets to sit and chill and guys do the hard work? I was clearly born in the wrong century.

“I’ve already broken the law by letting you here,” Serilon says, “and am looking to be beheaded for my treason. I have nothing to gain by betraying you now.”

“Nice try, bogart,” I answer. “But you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who cares about his own neck that much. Down the hatch we go.”

Serilon and I climb down the puzzle pillar, while Sephram stays behind in the treasure chamber to stand watch. He owes me for this. Even after saving my hide twice, he owes me, and I'll never forget.

Fortunately, the way down isn’t very long.

After a descent of about eight meters, we touch down at the bottom of a cavern of sorts. Save for what little comes from the treasury above, there’s no light. I conjure more will-o’-wisps and toss them around to get a better view. They're so much better than flares.

No bugs or skeletons, please. I can’t handle those.

There’s nothing.

It's a long cave, or a hall. The inward slanted walls are made up of hexagonal stone bars, that leave a deep, narrow chasm in the very middle. The bottom of the chasm can’t be seen in the magic light’s range. We stand on a platform facing a narrow bridge that goes over the depths all the way to the other end of the cavern. The bridge is barely two meters wide and has no guard rails. One wrong step and nobody will ever find your body.

I make Serilon go first and we cross the bridge to the far side, where we come to an identical platform and face to face with a smooth, flat wall.

A dead end?

“I’m afraid my being here helps you little,” Serilon turns to tell me. “No one has ever been able to go past this point. It can be surmised there are other areas through here, as your story suggests, but the wall is impervious to damage, physical and magical, made of no stone or metal we can identify. There is no obvious door, or any other mechanisms we can comprehend here either.”

“Crap.”

I wouldn’t mind going back home and leaving Hume to wrestle with this headache on his own, but if the enemy knows something we don’t, it could mean the end of the world. I have to try something.

I take a step closer and stare hard at the wall, not expecting much.

It's not like I know everything about everything. I can only see what's there.

Sometimes a wall's just a wall. If there's no magic involved, I can do nothing but knock and hope for the best.

But against expectations, the barrier smoothly springs to life in my eyes. It’s not simply a cold, dead surface, despite how it seems. There’s clearly artificial circuitry coursing everywhere inside, energy impulses passing up and down from the roots of the earth to unseen heights and back again, for purposes I can’t wrap my head around. It's built like a living organism. I’ve never seen anything like it.

I put my hand against the wall and the heavy slates of metal alloy jump into motion, pulling smoothly, soundlessly out of the way to open a gap to pass through.

“What do

you know? It is a door.”

Another dark room awaits beyond.

I take a step to enter and then look back. Serilon stands put a short distance away.

“Not coming? This might have all your Sultan’s treasures beat.”

“Whatever is in there, it was not meant for mortal eyes to see,” he answers. “I would rather cast myself into that chasm, than take a step further from here.”

“Well, suit yourself.”

Didn't you want it opened? What a big baby.

I go in. The wall closes up soon behind me, but I’m not too worried. There's no lock on it.

The following room has a solid floor, smooth as ice, and easy to walk on.

It’s not what I’d expect from a death trap. No bugs. No skeletons. My gut instinct tells me there’s nothing dangerous or frightening here. I don’t need to make more light either. Through the translucent floor and ceiling glows a faint, golden light that coils and twirls like smoke. I look at it and my heart’s entirely at rest. I’ve never seen this place before, but it feels like I've suddenly come back to granny’s villa. It feels like home.

The buzzing I’d had in my ears since we came to the royal district has stopped. I thought it’d get only louder and louder the closer we got to the power source, but instead it's cleared up. What was fuzzy, impersonal noise before has condensed into clean, calm sounds. It's almost like words, speech. Like there are invisible people talking behind the walls. Talking about me.

What are they saying? I can’t tell. The words are a little too quiet and muffled to understand.

I come to the end of the room.

Another featureless wall. Another door. You're not meant to go through this one.

The voices, they can see the doubt and hesitation in my heart. They’re questioning me. Am I sure I want this? I know I shouldn’t be here. I know it’s wrong. Even so, do I want to go on? Am I prepared for the consequences, for all the possibilities to follow. Oh, shut up. Leave me alone. Who are you, even?

“Hey,” I tell them. “I’m not here because I want to be, but because I have to!”

The voices don’t want to let me in. But they have no choice. I can see through all the obstacles. Not me—the other me. The one who's got the answers. They’re all toothless before her. I have a key to any lock they throw at me. Information is exchanged at a rate faster than my conscious mind can follow. Security protocols? Access credentials? Auditing algorithms? Encryption protocols? Aah, I don’t understand what any of that means! What is happening in my head!? AAAAH JUST MAKE IT STOP!

The wall begins to shift under my palm.

The squares and rectangles slide left and right, up and down, like a big picture puzzle sorting out itself.

A hair-thin seam splits the surface in the middle and the two halves divide themselves further into smaller and smaller blocks, which shrink down into themselves until there’s nothing left. The way is open.

The voices in my head quiet down.

Beyond is only one last chamber.

The chamber is perfectly spherical in shape, with smooth, spotless walls that reflect light like glass. A short bridge leads to a solitary platform that has a cylindrical pedestal in the middle. As I approach the pedestal, a round object rises through the flat surface and comes to hover in the air in front of my eyes.

A metal ball, only about the size of a man’s fist, thin lines coursing along its surface.

There can be no doubt about it. That’s the core of the Heaven’s Pillar. The cause of the whole carnival.

Now that I see it with my own eyes, I can tell it’s not a simple battery. That ball itself is a miniature prana fission reactor, a device that both generates energy and also regulates it. It’s not a weapon. Removed from its place as a part of the tower's systems, it should do nothing. Only so much dead metal. Why would anyone start a war for such a thing?

Either way, that’s what we came here for.

I grab the ball and put it in my bag. As soon as the connection is cut, the whole building powers down and begins to cool. The traffic dies down, the lights fade. I stand and listen for a minute, but it doesn’t look like the world’s about to end. No earthquakes. No spikes, poison darts, or boulder traps. Not one angry god.

My work here is done.

I turn around and go back the way I came.