~~~Bernard~~~

Bernard knew what waited for him in the dining room; the wind had already told him of Stanley's arrival, as well as what was being said. So he carefully schooled his expression as he entered and approached the man himself.

For whatever the effort was worth.

If he believed the rumors around here, then Stanley could sense his soul and, through that, his emotions.

That sounded like a lot of hippie nonsense, of course. Or it should have. It was somewhat harder to argue against while the wind swirled gently around him in a cloud of information only he could hear—the same whispers that alerted him to what was happening in this room moments ago

Not to mention how that same wind even now carried him through the air... and while the man ahead likewise hovered in defiance of what had been the natural order a month ago.

"Come to give me my marching orders now?" Stanley asked with a sneer while eyeing both him and Private Smith, as if daring them to try something. "Or to stop me from taking my food?"

Bernard tried to remain as neutral as possible while facing off with Stanley—the inevitable outcome of their new world's system. Someone who had raced ahead of the pack. Someone who had accrued power faster and to a greater degree than anyone else. Perhaps even—if he believed the stories—to the point that it no longer mattered if everyone else banded together against the man to stop him.

He shook his head as those thoughts stewed, acerbic and bitter in his mind. "No. I'm not here to do either of those things."

The words were equally sour in his mouth, but he'd known this was coming. Hell, ever since that first night, he'd always known it was coming; he'd just never dreamed it would be so soon. He'd thought there was time to build a stable base of power before they needed to deal with monsters like this. Now it was too late. "Leave him be, Smith. Nathaniel struck this deal with him, and we will honor it."

It galled him to give up the only leverage they had against the man, but it likely didn't matter anymore. Definitely not to the degree he'd anticipated on the day of their first meeting, when he'd talked to Stanley so bluntly... which, in retrospect, had been a major tactical blunder.

He'd thought he understood the situation better than he actually had. He'd doubted the wind's whispers. More than doubted them. He'd straight up disbelieved that anyone could be so powerful. Even after he'd gotten a front-row seat to it...

That whole experience felt absurd, both at the time and in retrospect. Nathaniel suddenly dashed away. Followed by that wave of death bearing down on them. Then a giant pug...

No. It had been absurd. Absolutely. Even taking into account the fact that magic was now real and monsters roamed the land, it was still absurd.

Except now, over a week later, he'd had time to learn more. Both from talking directly with the people and from the whispers the wind carried to his ears. The people who didn't even know he was listening still spoke of the impossible. The people who had felt that same wave of death. The people who had been there to see the wave crash and break. Others who'd felt that pressure...

The pressure. Supposedly from Stanley's soul.

That previous pressure was absent now, and Bernard had yet to see anything concrete regarding souls, but enough people spoke of the feeling, including that they'd unlocked the hidden soul attribute. Enough of them that ignoring the matter would be willful ignorance at this point.

Especially considering the look in Stanley's eyes as the man glared at him. There wasn't any of that pressure coming from his gaze, but it felt like there should be.

"I am not your enemy, Stanley, though I may have spoken more harshly than you deserved at our last meeting."

Stanley only kept glaring at him while meat flew, seemingly of its own accord, into his bag. Meanwhile, the pug in his lap alternated between watching the food and glancing at the surrounding people, including Bernard.

There was nothing hostile in the animal's gaze, but Bernard didn't like it, regardless. He still remembered that creature standing over him... the vibration of it growling... and how it froze him helplessly in his tracks.

Madness.

Yet he resisted the shiver that tried to travel through his body as he met Stanley's hostile gaze. Yes, it was disturbing and maybe slightly terrifying, but he'd dealt with worse in his long life.

Because he had lived a very long time on this earth, had seen a lot, had experienced more than most, and had even thought his long life was coming to an end as his aging body slowly failed.

Then, instead of his life ending, the world ended. Or perhaps not ended, but changed. Drastically. An upending of everything he'd thought he knew to be reality.

Monsters in the night and magic at his fingertips. It was madness enough to drag an old man from his bed and out into the dark. Not only did he wish to help his friends and neighbors, especially once the screaming started, but he had an even greater duty to attend to that night.

His country, the greatest nation on Earth, was under attack by alien invaders, and he hadn't spent the vast majority of his life defending his country, only to sit idly by now. It didn't matter if he was retired. It didn't matter if he was old or if his body was failing him. He took up arms and answered the call.

Unfortunately, guns turned out to be a wash, maybe from something the aliens did to the world. Or because of the mana. Whatever it was, it didn't matter in the end. Because whatever ruined his guns had also changed him.

First, the very air itself seemed to speak with him, whispering to him of threats in the darkness and carrying to him the voices and screams of those in need. Then it arose to defend him violently from the wildlife that had run amuck.

He used that new power to fight back. To protect his neighbors. To protect as many lives as he could with the little time he had left.

It hadn't all gone as well as he'd have liked, but lives were saved. American lives.

Then the unexpected war of that night had run on into days and weeks—longer than he'd thought anyone would last in a war against the United States of America. Of course, changing the rules of warfare definitely helped, as well as locking them all away inside this inescapable dome... where no backup could reach them.

That night had changed other things as well. Fundamental things. Instead of waking up weaker and older each morning, always wondering if this day would be his last, now he only grew stronger. Younger. Every day his power grew, and he saw no signs of that ever stopping.

It was a paradigm shift of monumental proportions. Power up for grabs by anyone who reached for it. Life-extending power. Personal power that rivaled even that afforded to all Americans through the Second Amendment.

All of it led him to here and now, where he faced the inevitable outcome of such a system. A man with enough personal power that he now thought himself above the law, that he thought himself untouchable.

Unfortunately, he wasn't completely wrong about that. Worse, he was obviously unstable.

Bernard had commanded many throughout his life, but in his later years, he'd also served directly below more than one president. All of whom could be considered arguably far more powerful than the man in front of him now, and some, unfortunately, equally unstable. If not more so.

He'd been... unnerved after their first meeting. The... storm that heralded Stanley's arrival on that day was beyond anything he'd felt before.

Well, almost anything else.

There were those days when the system told everyone that invaders had died.

Two different days. Two different sensations. But both times, an invader died. Both times, he'd felt... something unknown.

Something terrifying.

His first meeting with Stanley had brought those feelings back with a vengeance, and with good reason, too. Stanley being the shared connection between the events.

Despite what Nathaniel told him and his own experience, his early interactions left him with the impression of Stanley as a petulant child lashing out in a tantrum. An impression he still held, but one that had tainted their early conversations.

Many others had served beneath Bernard over the years. All manner of men and women. All with their own personalities and idiosyncrasies. He'd learned to work with and command them, as well as how to handle differing or opposing views without alienating either party. He should have, at the very least, kept his discussion with Stanley more neutral until he'd had time to understand the situation. Until he'd taken a more thorough assessment and found a better way to communicate with the man.

Or perhaps calling him a child was a more apt description.

Because if the rumors were true, Stanley had done the opposite of himself. He'd aged rapidly forward instead of the revitalization Bernard had experienced. So basically, he was still a child, even if he looked older now.

A child who hadn't willingly signed up to this war, but one who'd been drafted, like most had these days, and, by all accounts, it hadn't been a positive experience. As if that didn’t hold true for most... though, he supposed, most others wouldn’t have survived what Stanley had endured.

Most of the whispers carried to him on the wind weren't certain about Stanley's past. Rampant speculation was all too common, while actual details remained scarce. What little he had confirmed, especially after speaking with Arthur about their time together, all spoke to a rather brutal introduction to the war... or else the man before him didn't feel pain like a normal man.

Which, given the circumstances, wasn't out of the question.

"I have been talking to those here since we last spoke," Bernard finally said, bringing up the topic he knew Stanley had already heard about. "I've been asking about you, among other things."

Stanley said nothing, but something in his expression or body language shifted. He was nervous. As if afraid of what Bernard might say next...

"I have endeavored to learn," Bernard said, suspecting he knew the reason for Stanley's worry. "Both of how I had misjudged you, as well as how best to serve and protect our stronghold here."

"A likely story," Jerry said from behind his grill. "You can still eat rocks because I'm not telling you shit."

The cook had already told him to do just that, among other colorful statements. Jerry could babble non-stop while somehow remaining completely tight-lipped about any actual, real subject. Bernard was certain the man had served pre-system. He just wasn't sure which branch... and, of course, the man refused to tell him anything.

Stanley smiled at Jerry's bombastic statement. Two figures bonding through anti-authority rhetoric. A not uncommon trait among those lower ranks who seemed content to remain in their station while criticizing anyone who reached for more.

"I still want to cooperate with you, Stanley." As he spoke, Bernard signaled Smith to leave and called on the wind to pull into a loose circle around them. It would keep his words from traveling too far. It was a useful trick when someone needed a dressing down, but when it didn't need to be a public spectacle. Especially useful when he himself might have to eat some crow... "I would also like to apologize again for our early... interactions. I may have spoken more... bluntly than necessary."

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"You mean when you threatened to take away my food if I didn't obey you?" Stanley glared while drifting slightly higher in the air to loom over him.

A childish tactic, which Bernard ignored. "Yes. That was some of it. Also, for my insinuation that you were not trying to defeat the invaders. Since then, I have spoken with others who were present and who have pitted themselves against the... skeletons."

He'd underestimated the invaders. He'd assumed they would be on a similar scale to his own power... which somewhat held true. Nate had told him about the undead in his base—strong, but not unbeatable.

The problem was that they refused to die, even when you killed them.

Then there was the D-grade Stanley had fought. All the accounts he'd heard of that fight said it was equally unkillable as well as nearly invincible.

Until Stanley killed it. With his soul. Allegedly.

"Or you just realized that there's fuck all you can do to me," Stanley spat. "So, of course, now you want fucking peace! Let me guess, you want to make a deal? Oh, maybe you want me to depose Nate for you? Is that it? You want to be in charge?"

Bernard also ignored the comment about deposing Nathaniel. This was America. They didn't have kings to depose... not even if they wore a crown and thought themselves better than everyone else. Besides, he technically already outranked the younger man... in both life and military experience. Sure, Nathaniel had done a great job in a difficult spot, but leadership obviously wasn't his forte.

The man had spent most of his time out hunting with their purifier lately, which left the people here adrift without leadership. It wasn't a bad thing; in fact, it was a role he excelled at and one he would do well to focus his energies on while Bernard dealt with the bigger picture.

Unfortunately, the bigger picture involved dealing with Stanley. An area where Nathaniel's inexperience was on clear display. He hadn't known what to do or how to deal with the man, but Bernard did.

Stanley wasn't unique. He was exactly like the countless others Bernard had dealt with throughout the years. People who didn't fit into the general mold, either as officers or grunts, but people whose value was too great to cast aside. They were troublemakers. Those who thrived on being contrary to authority, but who still had plenty to offer their country. They were specialists, and Stanley wasn't even the only one here.

Which led directly to his plans for the man. Why not have the biggest problem of them all keep the rest of the troublemakers in line? The other people that refused to work together but were too powerful to throw away. Too useful to waste. Especially when they were trapped inside this dome with no hope of reinforcements.

"I want you to lead an elite strike force that answers only to my..."

"Eat rocks," Stanley snapped with a smug look on his face, one only matched by Jerry beside him.

Bernard stifled his sigh and resisted the urge to pull the air from Stanley's lungs. It wouldn't take him down fast enough... Sure, it would be extremely unpleasant, but already at E-grade, a human could function for a long time without air. Instead, he remained diplomatic. "You would be an officer, outside the chain of..."

Stanley snorted. "I don't work for you. I only helped you before as a favor to Nate. You're dreaming if you think I'll do anything you say just cause you're pretending to care now."

No, a far better strategy would be to turn the air inside his lungs into whirling blades and send them towards his heart. Assuming it would even be enough to bring him down...

He didn't do that. Not only was it incredibly difficult to manipulate air inside another being's lungs, but this close to Stanley, the air felt... thick. It was like an aura that followed him around, and Bernard had a feeling that trying anything within that space would not work out as planned.

"You are an American," Bernard said instead of doing all the violent things his imagination suggested. "Your country needs..."

"Like I said before," Stanley interrupted. "Eat rocks."

Bernard gritted his teeth and could have sworn he saw a smirk on Stanley's face when he did. Was the bastard really sensing his soul? "None of us are alone in this war, and make no mistake, it is a war. We won't win this with a bunch of lone mavericks running around on their own. We need to work to..."

"A thousand times zero is still zero."

"You!" Bernard took a slow breath and let it out equally slowly before continuing. "You are wrong. You know it matters. Why else would you be bringing all those skill shards back here?"

"That's just simple math," Stanley scoffed. "I get more stats for trading them here, nothing else."

He was being obtuse on purpose; Bernard was sure of it. Stubbornness for stubbornness’ sake. "Americans are dying every day because people like you want to feel superior!"

Stanley stuffed the last of the cooked meat into his bag, then flew toward the window and said over his shoulder, "That's their fault for being weak."

Bernard called after him, using the last bit of ammunition he had left. "Just like Samantha was too weak?"

It was a low blow and not a tactic he preferred, but Stanley was forcing his hand. It was also a gamble, since he only had Arthur's opinion on the events that led up to her death. Whatever the actual truth of the matter, his words had the desired effect of halting Stanley's departure. Unfortunately, it also had another effect.

Whatever had been hiding that screaming aura from the world very abruptly stopped doing so, and Bernard got a front-row seat to the angry emotions of a madman as he contemplated murdering someone.

Murdering him, to be exact.

"Don't you dare..." Stanley growled through clenched teeth as he advanced through the air back toward Bernard. "Don't you dare fucking talk about her! You don’t have the right!" The dog sat up in his lap as Stanley came on, licking at the lunatic's face and clenched fists while making pitiful, distressed noises.

Jerry remained where he had this whole time, looking equally pissed but only shaking his head. As if in resignation. The obstinate bastard.

Bernard held his ground as Stanley slid to a stop only inches away, still growling. "You owe her your life! Every last worthless fuck like you would be dead if she hadn't..."

"Exactly," Bernard said, meeting that psychotic gaze. "She made a difference. A nobody that..." His words cut off when something unseen wrapped around his throat and squeezed. Tight.

Bernard couldn't help himself; he reacted instinctively to the threat, calling on the wind and sending it to cut...

That was another mistake. Stanley's blazing aura of murderous desire turned to murderous certainty as his rage went cold.

Bernard tried to pull more air in close around himself to protect him, and he found a terrible problem. The wind refused to obey him.

It wasn't a completely unknown phenomenon. He had fought the occasional monster with their own wind magic, which forced them to fight each other for control over the air.

All those times were nothing like this.

The wind didn't just refuse to obey him. It went silent. Still. Dead. Then it abandoned him completely in a single gust of evacuating air, leaving him adrift and gasping for breath in a pure vacuum.

Bernard knew well what a vacuum did to living creatures, and while it sucked, the damage was lackluster. Especially on E-grades. The real problem was that it was happening to him. He was meant to be the one controlling the damn air!

To add insult to injury, he also couldn't move a muscle while an unseen and crushing force dragged him off the floor. With no leverage and no wind to command, it was over. Just like that.

He tried to fight; he even reached for the air beyond the vacuum he now found himself suspended within, but it didn't matter. The gap in the air wouldn't budge, no matter how much he tried to drag fresh air in. There was nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No escape.

Worse, he couldn't even attack Stanley because there was no air in or around him either. The lunatic was inside the vacuum with him! He just hovered there before him, glaring, while his aura of psychotic rage hammered down on Bernard and the crushing force around him grew ever tighter.

The bastard really was rabid, and it looked like he'd just poked the mad beast right in the eye.

Behind him, Jerry watched dispassionately while a now much larger pug was destroying the floor with each futile step it tried to crawl toward Stanley. He hadn't even seen the pug move out of the madman's lap...

As spots appeared in his vision, Bernard had a moment to lament. It was never supposed to turn out like this. He'd come in here to mend fences over past mistakes, not pick a fight. How did it go so wrong so fast?

Something about Stanley just pushed his buttons. His attitude. His arrogance. His crown...

No, he should have stayed away from this place. He should have kept his people far away. He should have understood better. The rumors were all wrong.

Stanley was far more powerful than anyone suspected. He could kill everyone here and there was nothing any of them could do about it...

Worse, he was completely and utterly insane.

Buff Gained: [Purifying Aura]

Nathaniel strolled into the room, followed by Ezekiel, the boy who would save them all, and his perpetually angry sister. None of them seemed particularly alarmed by what was happening here. Aside from the boy, who immediately started toward Bernard, only to be stopped by his sister. She held him back while Nathaniel continued his seemingly nonchalant stroll around the dead zone of air, where Bernard was currently in the process of getting murdered by a lunatic. Then he stopped beside the straining, clawing pug and calmly stroked the beast's head, which now sat at nearly head level with the man.

Bernard wanted to lash out at Nathaniel with the last of his strength. For ever inviting him here. For inviting this madman into their home.

But he didn't. It wouldn't help with his current situation, and at this point, Nathaniel might be the only one who had any sway with Stanley.

Also, the boy's aura was actually feeling rather nice, despite the way it itched at his insides. It actually seemed to push back against the damage Stanley was doing... reversing it. Even the lack of air stopped bothering him.

Stanley must have been feeling it too, because his rage cooled and then died as he noticed the newcomers. Air rushed back in, and the man's dog followed, his distressed noises loud in the sudden return of sound to Bernard's ears.

He also immediately knew that Stanley's little meltdown hadn't been an isolated event. The entire base had noticed, and Bernard's own soldiers were charging closer by the moment to defend their general.

"Stand down," Bernard whispered, sending his words out on the wind to the ears of every one of his men. "Do not approach. Return to your posts and standby." While some backup would be nice, he knew it would be completely pointless in the face of Stanley's power and likely only escalate the situation.

Nate, now sans a dog to pet, gave the disappointed-looking Jerry a pat on the shoulder before coming his way. "I told you to leave it alone and let me talk to him."

Bernard again resisted the urge to do something violent. He still didn't know what secrets Nathaniel was hiding, but he knew they existed. Information on the man was somehow even harder to come by than Stanley's had been, but he knew firsthand that his outwardly relaxed appearance meant nothing. "Your lackadaisical approach is costing us time we can't afford to waste."

"And this was a productive conversation I just interrupted?"

"He..." Stanley's soul aura suddenly vanished, and it felt like someone had just turned off a blaring stereo. "He's out of control," Bernard said after a small flinch and while glancing at the man in question, who was now petting his dog while Nate's golden boy stood beside him, talking excitedly with a big smile. "No one here is safe with that madman around."

Nathaniel shook his head while watching the exchange. "None of us are safe anywhere, Bernard, and that madman is on our side. Even if you don’t see it.”

"Stanley," he abruptly called across the room. "I have a new team for you. Actually powerful, but with some... issues. Can you give 'em a shot?"

Stanley looked up from the dog in his lap, his gaze jumping between the two men before it settled on Nathaniel. Then he shrugged. "Fine."

"Great!"

Bernard gaped at the exchange and became acutely aware of all the faces watching them. People with more curiosity than sense were crowding the doorways and windows, all eager for a glimpse of whatever drama had happened here. For a glimpse of Stanley... and whatever had pissed him off.

How many of them had seen his crushing defeat at Stanley's hands? How many saw Nathaniel stroll in and take charge? Was this a setup? Had Nathaniel known this would happen? He'd come back at just the right moment, and he hadn't seemed at all surprised.

As if reading his thoughts, Nathaniel held out his hand. "Thanks for holding things down while I was out. I know everyone here appreciates it—even Stanley," he added belatedly, to a muttered denial from Stanley that Bernard heard clearly. "Don't worry, I'll talk to him for you. We're all on the same side, after all."

He was backed into a corner, and Bernard had no choice but to accept the handshake, especially with all the onlookers. He did so grudgingly.

Nathaniel had definitely known this would happen. Well, maybe not this exactly, but he'd known there would be a clash with Stanley. Hell, he'd even warned him off, probably knowing the whole time that Bernard wouldn't listen.

Watching the man as he moved off to easily and casually converse with Stanley, Bernard had a terrible feeling that he'd just missed his chance to take over command here.

He was a four-star general. He'd commanded armies. Led wars. He'd advised presidents... and now he'd just been outplayed by a kid from Boston.

Politics had never been his strong suit, but he’d learned to wade through those waters. Or thought he had.

Had he lost a step somewhere? He had been out of the loop for a while. Was he the one in the wrong?

Bernard listened to the wind as he wrestled with his churning emotions and slowly realized something he’d missed earlier. There wasn’t truly an uproar. It was only his own people who were afraid. Nathaniel’s people, the ones who’d lived with Stanley all this time, weren’t actually all that upset by the events here. They were used to it...

No, it was more than that. Stanley’s rage gave them comfort. It made them feel safe.

They were all insane to feel that way... but then they were also still alive.

Everyone here knew Stanley was a monster in their midst. But he was their monster. A monster more fearsome than the creatures that plagued their own nightmares. A monster that would brutally and ruthlessly destroy anything that threatened his home.

Their home.

Nathaniel had made a deal with the devil, but maybe—just maybe—it hadn’t been a desperate gamble on his part?

Bernard wasn’t sure if he was ready to be that optimistic, but it also felt like he didn’t have much of a choice at this point.

Stanley was definitely... off; his screaming soul was proof enough of that, but did it matter if that power became the only thing standing between the people in here and the even worse monsters outside?