Orulon flew in the storm.

  His storm.

  The city sat below him hunkered against his raging wind and rain.

  He imagined the people would be much like the buildings they sought shelter within. Held immobile with only their hope that it would all pass and the sun would shine its warmth down upon them again like the dark terror had been merely a nightmare.

  Sadly, that wasn’t to be.

  The storm slowed to a halt.

  It would stay over the city as long as he willed.

  Enemy HQ stood protected by strong walls and powerful magic.

  Shields flared to life as lighting strikes probed.

  Farther way lay the Emperor in his palace.

  The man should have abilities to strengthen his people, but it mattered not.

  From the intelligence they had received from their temporary ally, this emperor was weak. Control of the nation— not even a true empire— was shared with an elected government, with a military.

  These Earth humans had erred.

  They had merely succeeded at diluting their strength.

  Thus, he could ignore the emperor for the Quest.

  Still, the primitive nation wasn’t without things to interest him.

  Namely, the faith hint of power that lay tantalizing close as he measured distance.

  He willed the winds to carry him away from the enemy HQ.

  The storm would continue to lash against its defenses without his direct control.

  Some would question the diversion, but he’d counter with the warning that one shouldn’t leave unknowns at his back.

  The hidden power could easily strike just as he, say, prepared to breach or worse, when he was engaged.

  Instinct guided him toward a bunker-like building in the middle of a tightly-packed section of what appeared to be homes judging by the interiors visible through the roofs ripped off by his winds. The floating debris certainly reminded him of what would be inside a home. Things like pots, pans, plates, utensils, granted they looked rougher and more primitive than what he used. Even the children’s toys were less well-made. Cheap. No artistry. No life. No meaning. Meant to be discarded, not treasured and passed down the generations.

  He debated plucking a few out of the storm as remembrances of those unfortunate ones set to perish at his hand.

  The thought vanished as instinct piqued his attention toward that hint of power.

  Lighting answered his call and began to hammer the squat building.

  Magic shields flared at each strike for a brief moment, but vanished quickly.

  Walls and roof lasted long enough for the defenders to come swarming out like angry formids after a careless child stomped over their dirt mound.

  Orulon hovered high above them, watching shrouded by the wind and rain as they scanned about frantically for the threat.

  War was unfair.

  He attacked, charring them with lighting or sweeping them into the darkness with wind gusts. Fate and their abilities would decide if they could survive the landing. Beyond that there were the sea creatures he had scooped up and scattered to add to the chaos.

  A last lighting strike cracked the shell, collapsing a portion of the roof. Enough for him to see into the interior with his superior vision.

  Oddly, the moment he breached the building that hint of power vanished from all his senses.

  The moment lingered.

  Clearly, it didn’t want to be found.

  He pondered entering, perhaps the Earth humans hiding in their vaults held the answer.

  Tempting, but he had a purpose.

  The Quest took priority and without a trail he needed to return to it.

  He simply needed to watch his back.

  …

  “Final Release: Dance through the raindrops, Tempestuous Spark.”

  Ah… transforming weapon wielder.

  Familiar, yet distinct.

  Orulon reeled from the sudden flash of lightning as the woman in black and white robes threw her slightly-curved, single-edged sword straight into the storming sky.

  Her threat was legitimate.

  Had to be to account for how she had managed to run up and find him despite the wind and rain.

  Lightning struck, but not his.

  Hot enough to sting even his skin.

  Multiple strikes from all angles and directions battered him across the raging sky. To fast for him to react to, let alone follow or defend against beyond covering his face with his muscular arms.

  Rather than call on the winds to take control of his flight he allowed himself to plummet.

  Lightning would not fight lightning.

  But the cold?

  He willed and the storm obeyed.

  The temperature in his immediate vicinity plunged violently.

  Liquid rain froze on contact with his enemy, revealing her as lightning in the vague shape of a person.

  Her movement slowed.

  Unable to melt the ice faster than it formed.

  Orulon struck with the wind at his back.

  The punch cracked louder than the thunder and sent her frozen form into the ground.

  “Wind and rain, hear me and obey. Imprison my enemy in a mountain of ice.”

  She was powerful.

  Better to keep her out of the fight than to kill her.

  She could prove useful after he decapitated their leadership and forced the weak emperor to terms.

  The rapidly growing mound of ice would keep her out of the way.

  If she failed to survive?

  Then she wasn’t powerful enough to be of use and he lost nothing.

  The enemy HQ stood breached.

  His lightning and the random monsters had done their work.

  Many holes lay open to choose from.

  Soldiers fought monsters in and around the large building.

  No eyes for him up in the black.

  A gesture sent a powerful wind gust sweeping around the building, carrying all those in the open up into the storm.

  Projectiles and spells sprayed from the building indiscriminately.

  The sheer weight of the fire was enough to catch him with a few stray shots.

  Nothing his nigh-invulnerable skin couldn’t shrug off with little more than some light bruising.

  A high-pitched whine reached his ears, carried by the wind that would do its best to protect him like a precious child.

  Down on the road an angular two-wheeled vehicle zipped toward him, dodging and weaving past the few monsters that managed to cling to the ground.

  The rider was glad in black and dark gray. Armor sleek and shiny like a toy. Helmet like an insect’s head. Blue scarf trailing.

  They put on a burst of speed and headed straight for the tall building next to Orulon.

  He found a grin creeping up his face.

  The audacity!

  Beings of his power level relished the rare challenge.

  And so far he had found the defenders of this particular land lacking.

  Perhaps, this one would give him a true challenge?

  Instead of slamming into the building the rider leaned back, pulling their vehicle on to its back wheel.

  The front wheel screeched a moment before pulling them straight up the side.

  Orulon willed the winds to carry him away from the building.

  It didn’t take a tactical genius to see what the rider planned to do.

  A gesture sent lightning down at the rider.

  Every strike missed as they slalomed up the side of the building.

  A blink.

  The rider vanished.

  The vehicle roared past the rooftop and into the dark storm.

  Orulon turned at the wind’s warning, only to take a boot to the side of his head.

  He had a moment to take in the rider as she fell.

  She, obviously, by her shape.

  Though he couldn’t see a hint of her face through her helmet.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Brave tactic, but questionable considering she didn’t appear to have flight or the ability to step on air like the woman that turned herself into lightning.

  While he pondered she crossed her arms and fired a bright, X-shaped beam into him.

  Hot and mildly stinging.

  He raised his hand to respond in kind when he suddenly found his arm wrapped in blue cloth.

  Ah… the scarf was longer than it had appeared.

  He grabbed and tore, rather, he tried.

  Tougher than it looked and felt.

  A sudden jerk had him falling after the rider.

  Before he could react a boot struck him in the face.

  The scarf continued to coil and constrict like a giant snake as the rider pummeled him with stinging kicks and punches as they fell.

  “Annoying, like an insect.”

  He surged with physical strength and threw off the wrapping, catching the rider by her arm. He clenched his hand, lightly, shiny armor crumpled, bone snapped.

  Her helmet muffled her cry of pain.

  He grasped the tattered end of her scarf and whirled her over his head like a sling.

  The bay seemed like as good a place as any to discard her.

  The buzzing of large, metallic wings reached his ears courtesy of the wind.

  A warning just in time.

  He allowed himself to fall and let go of the rider just as scything claws carved through the space where his neck had been.

  It was important to avoid unnecessary risks when he didn’t have full knowledge of his enemies.

  The two scythe-like blades on the flying metal insect’s forelimbs glowed red for a reason and he didn’t want to test their cutting power with his neck.

  The rider crouched on the metal insects back like she had the two-wheeled vehicle.

  “Transforming vehicle. I’ve seen its kind before, though not nearly as smooth and seamless.”

  Nor capable of independent action to such an extent.

  The rider’s scarf moved of its own accord and bound her broken arm tightly to her body.

  “Surrender and I will offer you the standard bound mercenary contract. Generous benefits, minimal taxation and, most crucially, you won’t die or end up like your fellow soldiers.” He nodded down at the huge mound of ice in the middle of the road. Not nearly large enough to be considered a mountain, but definitely a hill. One that was beginning to push against the buildings.

  In lieu of a reply from the rider, her metal insect spat a spray of hot needles against his muscular chest.

  “Your refusal is accepted.”

  The storm raged at his command.

  …

  Orulon dropped into the enemy HQ.

  The fight had been quick and violent.

  He had left them broken and in pieces atop his ice hill.

  Correction.

  He had left the large metal insect-vehicle in pieces.

  The rider?

  He had merely left her with a few broken bones.

  He had intended to kill her as befitting a true soldier, yet his compassionate side had stayed his hand when his last punch had broken her helmet to reveal a very young-looking woman, perhaps even a girl.

  He couldn’t be sure how the humans on this world aged.

  Other Benedines had often commented on his soft heart and how it would cost him one day.

  Well, he thought, not this day.

  Truly, the enemies he had personally engaged with had been much too weak to push him.

  Perhaps, stronger ones protected their leaders down in the bowels of their building.

  He took a moment to scan the carnage.

  Corpses lay scattered amidst ruined desks and chairs.

  Interesting.

  The architecture and design were different from his people’s, but the general shapes were the same.

  He supposed they did share the same body shape to account for that.

  Wood, cheap metal and plastic.

  The Earth’s materials were decidedly inferior to what he was familiar with.

  Even the lowest of his kind owned furniture made of material that didn’t slowly poison them.

  Such inferiority belonged to their distant past.

  A tentacle flopped down through the ceiling panels, wrapping him in many suctioning teeth.

  He twisted and pulled with a sigh.

  Gore splashed at his bare feet, staining his loose pants.

  The monster, a spiny, many tentacled thing he probably pulled from the ocean looked to be half-scorched as it plopped from its hiding place.

  He stomped down on its bulbous head, snapping spines and popping it like an overripe pradoe fruit.

  The juice and bits resembled the fruit more closely than he’d like.

  Although, the brine scent was superior to the pradoe, which was known to knock the unprepared into a brief unconsciousness.

  A gurgling sound drew his attention.

  An Earth human lay behind a pile of debris.

  Not a soldier from the lack of armor or weapons.

  He was without a face.

  Partially melted.

  Likely from an acidic monster attack.

  Perhaps, spit or excrement. Maybe even blood.

  Orulon snapped a punch into the man’s chest.

  That suffering was unnecessary.

  He took the time to listen for the sounds of the dying Earth humans.

  Weak breaths, groans, fading heart beats.

  Nothing.

  It was time to get back to the Quest.

  He consulted the map of the enemy HQ he had memorized.

  Naturally, their temporary allies could only be trusted so far. And the map was basic as such things went. For example, it lacked trap locations and troop stations.

  The quickest way to a location was, generally, a straight line.

  Thus, he joined the mental with the physical and called down the mother of all lightning strikes.

  “Hey! Hey! Wake up, hairless primate! You’ve got a fraction of a second before this rubble crushes you and I mean to death.”

  “He is awake. Don’t press him. Calm, rational discourse will give us all what we want.”

  “You’re such a pussy! Ha! This one-legged squishy primate is our only chance at getting something out of this world.”

  “And does it truly matter if we succeed? We are mere spirit copies. Our existence was doomed the moment we sent ourselves through the spires.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to be a loser that couldn’t pass on our power. Fuck! Just thinking about it makes me want to smash and burn all these soft primates.”

  “Please, some respect for thinking, rational beings.”

  Hiroki found himself in a blank void. Not white or black or anything. It was just… space.

  It was better than being crushed by a collapsed ceiling.

  At least he thought so until he saw the sources of the two voices he had been hearing since, well, last night in his dreams.

  Horned monsters loomed over him.

  Nearly twice as tall and many times as wide as him.

  One with fiery red skin.

  The other frozen blue.

  The former was a woman, which was obvious based on her ample curves. That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t absolutely jacked with defined muscles chiseled from stone.

  He quickly looked away, lest she take offense at his gaze.

  Not that it was fair of her to be practically naked. Wearing only a short loincloth and a tight wrap around her bountiful chest.

  He had never seen the like on a real, living person only in manga and other drawings were such ridiculous proportions possible.

  At least that was what he thought.

  Thankfully, he could look at the other one.

  The man wore a full suit, at least it looked like a suit, if only from what was a different culture that used thread that glowed. Yellow suit and blue skin made quite the pair. He was even larger than the woman. Like a chiseled sumo wrestler. One that made actual sumo wrestlers look like children.

  Hiroki noticed their faces and realized they were somewhat familiar.

  “Oni…” he whispered in horror.

  The red-skinned woman rolled her eyes and bared teeth— and tusks— in what he hoped was a friendly smile, not a hungry one.

  “No. Don’t tell me you hairless primates don’t know what the collective unconscious is. Primitives,” she spat.

  Hiroki stammered.

  “We don’t have time for this. Squishy is about to be squished.”

  “Patience.” The blue not-oni fixed him with an eagle-like stare. “The theory is that the spires primes peoples across the infinite worlds. We have traveled to many more than you can imagine and across all we’ve found commonalities in myths, legends, religions and all types of fiction. Gods and monsters on one world are simply people on another.”

  “Don’t you fucking thing there’s anything simple about us!” The red not-oni suddenly loomed over him, leaning over very close with a pointy-nailed finger wagging in his face like he was being a bad little boy.

  He tried very hard not to look down her chest wrap and into her bountiful mounds.

  The cloth was way too thin and the disembodied space was freezing cold for some reason judging by the noticeably protruding twin points.

  “What’s wrong with the squishy?” She straightened, turning to the blue one. “He can’t even make eye contact.”

  “He is mortal.” The blue one sighed. “Let us cease idle chatter. Patience is warranted, but my counterpart is not incorrect.”

  “Yeah! You’re a fraction of a second closer to…” She clapped her hands together causing him to stumble back at the sudden blast of wind. “Squished!” She leered down at him.

  The blue one took a knee to descend to a level gaze with Hiroki.

  “We have transcended our once mortal shells. We who stand before you are spirits. Copies sent out by our original selves across the spires worlds in an act of charity.”

  The red one snorted then suddenly broke out into raging laughter.

  “It is no less charity if it benefits us as well.” The blue one didn’t miss a beat. “If you so choose we shall grant you a fraction of our power to transform your genetic code. This process is irreversible.”

  “Why would you want to go back to being soft?” The red one wiped her eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Take it! You hate being powerless, right? We know, because we’ve been in your head. Cripple! Useless! Weak! About to die from something as light as a roof falling on your squishy baby head.”

  “What’s the catch?” Hiroki blurted out before he realized the words had formed.

  “Our two natures will create conflict within you. Each will pull you. The further you fall into one the stronger you will become. However, go too far and you will lose control. There is an opportunity for greater power if you are able to integrate the dual nature into something new.”

  The blue one was more helpful than the red one. Calm and measured.

  Hiroki almost forget to be terrified for a moment.

  “Don’t bother!” the red one laughed. “We’ve done this gift giving a lot and no one’s ever managed to do that stupid combining thing. You want my suggestion? Be me!” She pointed a finger at her mountainous chest. “It’s way more fun to be me than him. So boring. Rational this, rational that. We’re not machines, golems or computers! We are people! We live! We laugh! We fuck! We fight! That burning passion must be embraced! Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  Hiroki considered their words.

  On the one hand, it sounded like a trap. Like the oni that lured children into their cooking pots with promises of candy or something like that.

  On the other hand, he did distinctly remember the ceiling collapsing on him.

  “Um, respectfully, oni-sans. I have a question.”

  “Ask,” the blue one said.

  The red one rolled her black eyes.

  “What do you get out of this?”

  The blue one held out a hand, upon which a single sheet of paper materialized.

  “A simple contract. It is as I said, as you can read. We gain power—”

  “Don’t worry, squishy, we aren’t the soul taking kind of transcendants. You keep your soul, your body, your autonomy… slavery is disgusting. Indeed, one of my favorite things is to smash slavers. And not in the fun way. Well… fun for me, not for them.” The red one winked for some reason.

  The blue one cleared his throat with an arch glance at the red one.

  “We gain power from your deeds and a reasonable percentage of the Universal Points you earn once you agree to these terms. There are no stipulations beyond that. You may even choose to oppose us if we ever find ourselves at conflicting interests.”

  The red one punched her fists together.

  “It’s always a good scrap when the kiddies start thinking they’ve got the big sticks between their legs!” She gave him a toothy and tusky grin.

  “What if I say no? Do you guys, like, find another?”

  The blue one eyed him impassively with all the coolness of an iceberg.

  “No. One world, one set of spirit copies, one offer. Regardless of the choice made, we fade away.”

  “Not unless you stop being a pussy and say yes. Then, we’ll be inside you for a while. You know, mentors.”

  “Occasionally. We prefer our chosen find their way to power. For power unearned is not true power at all.”

  “Don’t listen to that rational bullshit. He’s gonna be trying to sway you to his side just as much as I’m gonna.”

  “We prefer you try balance.”

  Hiroki took a deep breath he didn’t think he really needed.

  He was a spirit in a nothing space.

  “Okay… let me read this then I’ll decide.”

  The red one was suddenly by his side with a hand on his shoulder pulling him to her bare, muscular and very warm thigh. Like a mother smothering her child.

  The blue one appeared at his other side at an arm’s length. Like a winter storm blowing freezing air through an open door.

  Hiroki read the contract with one half of his body burning, while the other froze.