The Kiku-no-Tsurugi was infinite, fractal; it laughed at his feeble attempts at comprehension, not mean-spiritedly, but with the indifference of a mountain spring to the fish which attempt to swim against its current. Deep within, he glimpsed Nori Takenaka's echoes -- brilliant, haughty, and secretly very alone -- like looking upon the face of a god. The runes which formed its enchantments -- its very essence -- were fantastically complex, rivaling even the intricacy of Irineth's True Rune; but where that had been the organic, integrated resonance of a living mind, this was a construct, a thing of impossible precision and preternatural elegance.

It blinded him. But he'd never needed eyes to see in this place.

It humbled him. But Topher hadn't been arrogant for a long, long time.

And, in the end, it was simple; not in the way a stick or a rock was simple, but in the way that pi was simple -- one number, divided by another. But the numbers Takenaka had divided were not integers; they were matrices. Topher could see it in his mind's eye; the image that had rocked him to his core, so long ago, in Dakath Xyrmaer's shop.

They're all connected.

The reason, he intuited smoothly, that the Kiku-no-Tsurugi could bear any might -- withstand any shock, channel any power, and cut through any obstruction -- was that it was poised, balanced as if upon an infinite spiral of razor edges, between every point in runespace. Bereft of that, it was a simple steel sword -- well-made, unquestionably, but no more magical than an ordinary metal spoon. He couldn't use it; it wasn't made for him. And he wasn't a warrior anyway.

But he could use its idea.

For so long, Topher had fretted and hemmed regarding the shape of his Wyrd; wondered and hoped and dreamed about what form it would finally take. And now he knew.

Straining, he began to loop the tightening band of his akasha between each rune in turn; Ehn to Ehf. Ehn to Oiz. Ehn to Om. Down and across, over and through, backwards and forwards through the ranks and files of the runes he connected them. The band, he knew, was the connection between his MP and himself; and, like his pathetically small MP pool, it could only stretch so far.

But it didn't have to be strong. It just had to reach.

And so, pulling and hauling with all his strength at each turn, he pulled it tighter and tighter; he spun it, like a weaver, out into thinner and thinner strands to reach further and further between the runes. And, at the end of eternity, when he was holding each and every interaction between each and every rune between his hands, he went further.

Jhu. Infinity. To make his Wyrd inseverable.

Palz. Stasis. To keep his Wyrd intact.

Mij. Identity. To bind it to himself.

Rosh. Reversal. To bind it to itself.

Danx. Life. To bind it into himself.

And lastly, at the very limit of his endurance, Duthan -- the conjugation of all of the others against Zu. Death.

Every twist and turn and pull of the Wyrd had been excruciating; each harder, more resistant, than the last. But the final haul was more than he could bear; he strained, an impossibly small length short of completion, as the thread of his akasha threatened to snap on the final turn.

I can't do it.

His being was coming apart at the seams; every atom of him screamed with the terrible pull of the forces he had tried, in his hubris, to bind together, in defiance of everything. He might be Level 127; but that didn't mean shit in a world where the really great mages had probably all been even higher; Levels don't have an upper limit. He panted, caught on the cruel barb of his own conceit; I fucked up. And now I'm going to die, because I'll still be here fucking around with an incomplete Wyrd when the Time Stop spell wears off and Suzume rips my skeleton out.

He wailed, in that infinitely contracting space between everything; writhed in despair upon the thorns of his woe.

And then, finally and reluctantly, he did the one thing he'd always been afraid to do.

He let go.

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Out of the darkness, on a fiery steed, she rode.

She wheeled her mount; cast a gimlet eye over the assembled forms before her, all exhausted and terrified, the Archmages on the brink of death. "Where," she began with extraordinary calm, "is he?"

There was a grunt; then, slowly, one figure rose to meet her. "Hiya," said Topher, staggering to his feet. "We've met before. Topher Bailey, you probably don't remember."

Suzume blinked slowly; her cool, calm eyes rested on Topher lightly, like a moonbeam. "So we have. Not 'Tobin Copperfield' anymore though, I guess." Her gaze slid down to the Kiku-no-Tsurugi in his right hand. "That's a nice sword."

"Thanks." Topher turned it point-down and plunged it into the stone at his feet; it sank nearly half its length into the solid granite smoothly, as if it had been driven into warm butter. "It's not really mine, though. I was just admiring it."

The two of them faced each other; Suzume considered him for a moment, then slowly stepped off her mount. Behind her, an army of undead more vast than the sea gathered in the dread portals to her nether-realm; Topher worked his tongue in a very, very dry mouth. She noticed, cocking her head. "Are you scared?"

"Oh yeah, super scared," Topher admitted freely. "I mean, you're stronger than an Archmage; you actually know how to use your Class abilities. You've got a Unique Skill so powerful everybody treats you like a god; and to top it all off, now you're Queen of the Demons, which is probably not trivial either."

"It's not." Her icy gaze drifted lazily over the cavern, taking everything in. "Among other things, it boosts my Level to four digits. So there's that." Her eyes flicked back to him. "How about you? What can you do? What secret do you have?"

"Me?" Topher considered; then, nodding, he folded his arms across his chest. "I'm a Clerk. And that means I know exactly where to file your bullshit."

"I see." She raised her staff, leaning on it nonchalantly as she peered up at him. "Does that mean you're not going to give me Vius?"

"I mean, I would if I thought it would help," Topher protested. "I don't want to fight you. But I can't. There's more going on than you know -- than any of us know. And we have to get to the bottom of it."

"Oh, it's fine then. You don't have to fight me." She relaxed, stretching like a cat.

Topher blinked. "I don't?"

"No." She leveled her staff at him. "You just have to die."

The blast of power which erupted from her seemed to boil and crack the very air between them; sorcerous green energies exploded with the force of an artillery shell across the space, thundering into him with enough force to roast his bones and boil the marrow within them to steam. Topher was very chagrined indeed to discover that it hurt, incredibly badly; for a moment, he thought that he'd died, thought that she'd ripped the very soul from his body to torment him even after his obliteration. But, slowly, his vision cleared; the viridian light between them dimmed, and she resolved out of the purple splotches before him with a slightly puzzled expression. "Strange. That usually works."

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Topher blinked, looking down at himself; his body was whole, totally untouched. Holy shit. I really did it. With his Metaphrastic senses, he could see and feel the Wyrd within him, infusing every cell and atom of his body; like an endless thread wrapped around and through every part of him, it bound him together impossibly strongly. Raising his gaze to hers, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe want to try again?"

Obligingly, she reached out her other hand; Topher felt the very air in the room turn solid around him, attempting to crush and choke him. But he didn't need to breathe anymore; his body renewed itself from moment to moment, and he marveled at the feeling as cool, fresh, oxygenated blood circulated through him despite the very air in his lungs being rock-solid. I bet I can't even get sick anymore. Holy shit, I could probably walk on the floor of the ocean. This is so goddamned cool.

She tried to levitate him up next; the force of the air surrounding him pulled at him like a hurricane, but it was child's play for him to anchor himself to the floor with Attract Object. She summoned thunderclouds to smite him with bolt after bolt of white-hot, shatteringly powerful lightning, but it did nothing to him (it did hurt like being blown apart every time, but Topher was very used to pain by now; and, to his grim amusement, it still hurt only slightly more than throwing out his back had). Curiously, he pulled his feet out of the molten rock where he'd been standing; his shoes weren't even singed. Smiling, he looked up. "What else you got?"

Her brows were firmly knit together now; raising her staff, she harried him with poisonous bolts, scourged his bones with unholy flames, and attempted to tear his heart from his chest. But each attack, though it wracked him with agony, left no mark upon him; even when she commanded legions of powerful undead, their eyes and blades glowing with icy and greenish light, to cut him down, he merely stood there and let it happen; their blades hacked and stabbed at him, their bony and withered hands clawed at him, vapors and miasmas attempted to drain his life force, and still he stood like a bald and bespectacled boulder amidst the chaos of the attacks.

Sighing, he summoned his Stylus and twirled it. "Okay, my turn. Yn Thuum Zu, Vil Voq Nimaq, Danx Jhu Korpu." A white light exploded out from him in all directions, scything through the area with nacreous force; in an instant, all the undead collapsed into dust, leaving him alone with the S-Ranker. She gaped; he shrugged and banished his Stylus again. "Sorry. I guess those probably took you a while to make."

"Fascinating." As quickly as a cat, she darted up to him, touching him over his heart with a finger that smoked with deadly energies; Topher felt a cracking pain in his sternum, but nothing else happened. Undaunted, she continued poking and prodding him. "Is it a spell? A Skill? Do you have an artifact? Your Status looks pretty normal to me, although Level 127 is pretty good for an F-Ranker."

"Stop that. Look, none of that matters." Annoyed, he reached out and gripped the girl by the shoulders, lifting her up so that her feet left the floor; she cocked her head to one side, unresisting. "We have to talk. That's the only way any of this is ever gonna get resolved, okay?"

She blinked. "Are you really that invincible? If you can just defeat me without trying, why don't you?"

"I'm not," Topher admitted. "There's lots of things you could still do." Like murder my friends, who are over there behind that rock defenseless, while I'm powerless to stop you. "But you're smart, right? Probably got Rank Ten Billion Intelligence, or some shit. So think. What do you really lose by at least hearing me out?"

Suzume shook her head instantly. "I could lose a great many things. You might have a Unique Skill that lets you trick or mind control me, regardless of Defense or Level, if you can get me to answer a riddle or think about elephants, or anything else." She rolled her eyes as if he weren't holding her like a rag doll two feet in the air. "It's not like it's hard. If you give me Vius, I can leave; if you don't, I have to kill you. I don't see why this is so complicated."

Topher wanted to scream; as gently as he dared, he set the diminutive girl down and frowned down at her blank, thoughtful face. "What in the hell is wrong with you kids? Don't you care about other people, or any of that kind of thing?"

"Not really," Suzume answered flatly. "Leadership and intelligence erode empathy. But I'm just doing what I have to either way," she continued. "I'm the Demon Queen now. I haven't been doing it for very long, but I still don't want to do it poorly."

"That's another thing," Topher snapped, as she produced a vicious-looking purple dagger that smoked with a ruby aura and tried to stab him several times; despite the searing pain of each attack, his skin rejected each blow as though the dagger were made of foam rubber. "Why would -- stop that -- why would you join this Kholoth guy, anyway? You were pretty gung-ho about this war at the beginning, right?"

"Mostly as an intellectual exercise, but yes," Suzume agreed, putting away the dagger and producing a white wand that pulsed with unimaginable cold; she touched it to his skin, where Topher felt it trying to suck the magic out of him with a titanic, irresistible force. But the magic was him; it mostly just felt like someone was trying to give him a hickey at the point of contact. "At first, it was pretty fun; the Demon Lord was clever, and I had to actually work a little bit to counter his plans. That's why I wanted to meet him; I figured that either he would be boring, and I could destroy him or learn some useful intelligence before I escaped, or that he might be interesting and I'd see where things went from there." She kicked him in the shins a few times, experimentally, but Topher couldn't even feel it through his Arch Shielding. "It was a good plan. I wouldn't have changed anything."

"But then what?" Topher demanded, turning on her; he was gratified to see her eyes widen at least a little bit in surprise and fear, and he hated himself for it. Good job, old man, you scared a teenager. "I don't give a fuck how 'interesting' he is if he's still the bad guy! We're still talking about the person who killed most of your classmates and friends!"

"Oh, that part." She stepped back a pace and looked up at him; her dead, flat gaze still chilled him every time. "When I found his inner sanctum, I asked him if he was the Demon Lord. And he said three words to me that changed everything."

"He did? What words?" Topher leaned forward, intent. "'Demons Are Humans'? 'Humans Are Monsters'? 'You're Super Hot'?"

She giggled, amused. "He said 'Actually, I'm Retired'."

Topher blinked; his mouth dropped open. "That's it? What the fuck does that mean?"

Suzume shrugged. "It's probably a little confusing to you. I don't know what your Intelligence is, but you're an F-Ranker, so it's probably not very high." She stalked around him, looking up at the cavern ceiling. "But I can spell it out for you. The Demons were impossibly well-organized, impossibly powerful, and impossibly well-informed; they should have destroyed the humans from the very beginning, but something was holding them back. I thought at first that we were just outsmarting them, but when I met Kholoth, I could tell right away that he was brilliant and capable beyond anything you can imagine -- higher than S-Rank Intelligence, and enough raw power to destroy all the human lands by himself."

"Yeah?" Topher shook his head. "So why'd he retire? Did the game get too easy?"

"The other way around," the girl returned imperturbably. "If you're someone like that -- someone so strong and smart that nothing even challenges you anymore -- there's only one reason you retire." She turned and faced Topher, her eyes alight. "You meet someone stronger. Someone so smart and so powerful that they can fight your battles better than you ever could; someone operating so many tiers above you that you might as well not be playing the game at all."

"I knew it." Topher's fist smacked into his palm. "I knew there had to be a mastermind. It didn't make sense that Vius would be fighting so hard for Kholoth if Kholoth was trying to kill him; it only makes sense if he's taking orders from someone else."

In an instant, Suzume froze; she turned back to Topher, her ice-blue eyes wide. "Vius was in contact with the True Demon Lord?"

Topher scowled. "You see now why I didn't want you to kill him?"

The Arch Heretic nodded, rubbing her chin with her fingertips. "Of course. Well, that makes things pretty easy."

"It does?" Topher blinked. "How? This 'True Demon Lord' guy set us all up against each other; he won't be satisfied until the Archmages are out of the picture. Even if you come back to our side, he'll just try again right away."

Suzume shrugged, walking back towards her mount; she frowned when she saw that Topher's Banish Dead spell had deanimated it into a pile of inert bones. "I can think of at least one plan that would remove a lot of his tools and buy us a good bit of time. It might be a little tricky, but I'm pretty sure I can handle my end if you can."

Topher had a headache; he took his glasses off and massaged the bridge of his nose. "And I suppose you feel like explaining what this plan might be?"

"It's simple." She gestured, opening another black portal, and turned back to Topher with one hand extended. "Are you authorized to accept our surrender?"

"He is not." Out of the darkness behind him, Zashe Vicon IV stepped up and placed a hand reassuringly on Topher's shoulder. "But perhaps I could be of assistance."

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Far, far away, he dwelt in darkness.

There was no need for light for him; he'd been denied the light so long ago that he barely remembered it now. But he was content; darkness had grown to suit him, or perhaps he had grown to be suitable for darkness. He saw no need to distinguish.

Slowly, and without urgency, he rose from his place of repose; his defenses were unlikely to be needed, but were prepared in any case. The likelihood of anyone even comprehending his agency in everything was still remote, but he had planned for such a contingency regardless; the situation would soon require his direct involvement, anyhow. He ran a hand through his hair, staring into the infinite blackness.

"Well," he murmured reluctantly, "I guess it's time to get serious."

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END OF VOLUME 5