Suiteonem Prime, Snow Bear Hold, March 2058

  King Kymely sat on her throne, surveying the coup conspirators.

  Her guards lay bloodied around her and out in the halls, undoubtedly.

  She regretted not letting them know that there was a coup, but the Lord Cross assured her that none of her guards, servants and such would suffer more than a few cuts, bruises and such.

  Somehow?

  The intimidating man hadn’t elaborated.

  Her nobility, lords and ladies of the Hold, filled her throne hall.

  Tikla, her Supreme Shaman, was likely already in custody.

  The king hoped the cantankerous old woman could hold her temper long enough to keep up the charade.

  “Treason, is it?” she intoned.

  “Don’t think of using your Skills to compel loyalty.” A lord’s face twisted as if a stink bird flew through the hall.

  She had already consigned his name to the trash bin in her memory.

  Such was the fate of traitors.

  “It is not treason! Treason is throwing your lot in with the undead and the greatest horror of our people! And if that wasn’t treasonous enough you dare outlaw thralls! And you command us to pay reparations! When you yourself have thralls in your service!”

  The king suppressed a grimace.

  All truth.

  She had balked at first when the Lord Cross demanded an end to the thrall system and the reparations.

  Joining the Calamity was one thing, but to do away with such a vital and valuable system?

  Truth be told, she would’ve done what he had asked regardless on account of sheer terror.

  When the smiling, fat revenant had shown her the numbers concerning the thralls?

  Well, she couldn’t argue with the fact that ninety percent of all people forced or volunteered into thralldom never escaped, dying long before they earned their free status back.

  Who would’ve thought that those that relied on thralls for cheap labor and easily abused targets would create the system in such a way that they wouldn’t lose those thralls?

  In a way, she felt very stupid that she hadn’t noticed that statistical truth.

  In another way she was happy to be too stupid to realize because that meant she was still king and, more importantly, alive.

  Unlike the nobles and other wealthy ones.

  Dead and dying.

  This coup was the last of them.

  “Well, ah, treason is punishable by death—”

  “Forgive me, my former king, but with what forces will you use to carry that out?” the lord whose name she didn’t know anymore shook his head like he was a disappointed father.

  “I remember a story from long ago, elder one.” Truth be told, she hadn’t remembered until the Lord Cross had told her and showed her the evidence. “Of two rivals vying for a maiden of true beauty. Then there was a crime committed by one. The evidence was questionable, but that man was the son of a humble storekeeper. And the other man was the son of a lord, so… the punishment fell on the innocent.” She shrugged. “How many children did you and your lady love have? Grandchildren?”

  “Many. And every one of them has added their own value to Snow Bear Hold. Certainly much more than a simple storekeeper would have created. We shall endure and rebuild what you have squandered by allying yourself to the very Calamity that haunts our people! Shame on you!”

  “An innocent man. His story buried deep in the archives. Punished with thralldom. Services purchased by King Hragthar. Killed in a raid on an outside village. So small and insignificant that if it had a name it wasn’t recorded. All because you were jealous and you weren’t confident in your ability to woo. The shame is on you.”

  “Seize her. With respect. The people of the Hold deserve a fair trial.”

  “Treason is death.”

  She closed her eyes.

  She would’ve kept them open because a king shouldn’t fear.

  However, the revenant had strongly suggested against watching.

  Sounds assaulted her.

  She slapped her hands over her closed eyes just in case.

  The nobles and their warriors wailed, screamed and pleaded.

  They gnashed their teeth and tore at her hair.

  She worried about her guards and servants even if the revenant had assured her that they were safe.

  “It is done, your majesty.”

  She opened her eyes.

  Every single traitor lay on the cold stone, bodies and faces twisted in terrified rictus as if they had seen the face of the evilest demons.

  “Gershington’s Laughing Mask. An elegant spell. Perfectly targets only who the caster desires. Wonderful for avoiding collateral damage, your majesty.” The revenant in resplendent robes that shifted through every color.

  King Kymely counted every single one of her guards and servants— not thralls, she’d freed them all and those that wanted to stay were now properly paid— to make sure they were all okay.

  “Thank you, Archmage Belosarah.”

  “Oh no, I’m no archmage. Just a simple mage, your majesty.”

  The king suppressed a shudder at the revenant’s grin.

  The throne hall was as cold as always and though the revenant’s chest rose and fell there was no mist escaping from her mouth.

  “I shall leave the clean up to your people.”

  “The others?”

  “Don’t worry about those traitors, your majesty. Lugin’s a manhunter and no man can escape him. He’ll have marked them already for your people to level on.”

  “And may I ask what you shall be doing?”

  “Well… there are things tunneling around in your quaint mountainhold’s lowest depths like an overeager virgin’s fingers. I shall investigate and let you know if it’s a leveling opportunity for your people or an evacuating one!”

  The revenant vanished in a colorful whirl of cloth.

  Her guards and servants waited for her words.

  “Secure the hall. See to your injuries. Cover the bodies for now.”

  Suiteonem Prime, Grail Beach, Suiteonem V, 20137

  Sixty-eight woke up to the crash first, which was wrong because Seven or Eighty should’ve been on watch to wake the rest of them up before any hypothetical crash.

  Eighty snored next to her.

  Fifteen had an arm across Sixty-eight’s face, digging the elbow in one eye.

  She threw it off and leapt to her feet.

  The other two girls stirred, waking up much too slowly for what was proper for a fighter deep in enemy territory.

  Still better than Thirty-two, who lay in his bed sprawled out like a starmollusc.

  As for Seven—

  He gasped for breath on account of the stern-faced woman forcing him to his knees via a hand crushing his throat.

  “You are all under arrest for the crimes of illegal entry, assault, battery, great larceny, and murder. Felonies all.”

  The woman looked much like human women tended to.

  Plain, tall, athletic, tanned.

  She appeared to be unarmed aside from the wooden baton in her belt loop, but she did have a few tiny bags.

  She wore a uniform devoid of armor, but again, with enchantments the cloth could be tougher than thick steel plate or even something greater like adamantite.

  The strangest thing about her was the rainbow-like aura that surrounded her like mist or a heat haze.

  Oh… right.

  Sixty-eight remembered what that possibly signified.

  That grail that gave the city its name.

  Drink from it and be made much stronger in every way possible, including class.

  Fifteen and Eighty finally woke.

  Thirty-two did not.

  “Children. You are pawns. Do not make things worse for yourselves by resisting arrest. I guarantee you will be treated respectfully before expulsion from my city. I am Grail Magistrate Gyrtroodes Mylofort and you have my word. Lay down on your face and place your hands behind your head.”

  Sixty-eight caught movement behind the grail magistrate through the broken front wall of their tiny rental home.

  Temporary neighbors.

  She considered using them as hostages, but she had to get around the grail magistrate first and she doubted her ability to do so.

  Fifteen had the same thought as she thrust her hands toward those curious temporary neighbors.

  “Release him and walk backward or I’ll blast them!”

  “Terroristic threats. More charges isn’t what you need right now, young lady.”

  “Rrarrgh!” Eighty charged like an angry bear woken up from hibernation a month early, which wasn’t too far from the truth, except that she was scarier than the bear.

  “Instant Shackles.” The grail magistrate sighed.

  Rainbow-colored restraints suddenly appeared around Eighty’s ankles, causing her to eat a face full of dirty floor.

  An instant bought.

  The rest of the lochos acted.

  Fifteen blasted spells at the temporary neighbors.

  Sixty-eight should’ve known her half-sister wasn’t bluffing.

  Fifteen thought she was better than her half-siblings, of course she wouldn’t care about random mortals, let alone random mortals that looked poor.

  Thirty-two wasn’t actually asleep. He sprang up and threw toys at the grail magistrate.

  Seven punched between the woman’s legs in desperation.

  Sixty-eight didn’t blame him. His face had turned purple and only morons stuck to rules in a real fight.

  As for her?

  She used Eighty’s broad back to leap on the arm holding Seven to begin gnawing on it like a rabid weasel.

  The grail magistrate shook them both off and rushed outside after Fifteen’s slow moving acid orbs spraying as they went.

  “Freeze.”

  The orbs and the droplets halted in midair, but not before a few of the latter had landed on unlucky temporary neighbors.

  “Stop moving.” The stern-faced woman produced a knife. “I have to cut around it before it reaches your bloodstream.”

  Seven gasped, but he managed a word.

  “Wall—”

  Fifteen dismissed her acid orbs in favor of a simple stone wall over the opening to their tiny rental home.

  “Thirty-two—”

  “I know!” He rushed to his bag of holding and pulled out a toy short gun. One that shot tiny jets of water. To this he attached a hose connected to a much larger container in which he combined several different colored liquids. Finally, he pushed the divine power in his blood through his hands and into the container.

  Of course it wasn’t magic.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Not to Thirty-two.

  Nope.

  It was tinkering or artificing or whatever he called it.

  Sixty-eight could never keep it straight.

  It seemed like it was all the same to her.

  Thirty-two’s toys.

  Fifteen’s spells.

  Their strength, speed, toughness, senses and everything else.

  Whatever they could do beyond all came from the divinity within.

  “Cease and Desist.” A harsh voice boomed from the other side of the stone wall.

  “Oh no!” Fifteen said. “I’m putting mana into it, but it won’t hold for some reason!”

  “Gee, I wonder why that could be!” Eighty growled while she struggled to tear the rainbow shackles off.

  “Hurry up, Thirty-two!” Fifteen screamed.

  “I am! Don’t yell at me!”

  He finally finished whatever he was doing and began spraying glowing liquid on Fifteen’s crumbling stone wall.

  It didn’t take long until a glowing goop wall hardened over the stone, muting the annoyed voice on the other side.

  Seven coughed.

  “Let’s go! Grab everything! Out the back! Now!”

  Divine blood healed quickly even a partially crushed throat.

  They had slept in their clothes. So all they had to put on were boots, cloaks and weapons.

  There wasn’t time for armor judging by the cracks forming on Thirty-two’s goop wall.

  Eighty brandished her axe.

  “I’ll get her when she breaks through.”

  “No!” Seven snapped.

  “Why not?”

  “We kill her and we bring down more of them. We need to run, escape and hide. So, please open us a back door, Eighty.”

  The much bigger girl snorted.

  “That’s gross, Seven. You’re my half-brother.”

  “That’s not— you know what I meant!”

  “Oh my Gods! I didn’t even think of that.” Fifteen rolled her eyes. “You guys are the worst.”

  “Just shut up and go!” Seven snapped.

  Eighty shrugged.

  She ran through the back wall.

  There was an iron fence, but it was easy to leap over.

  Then they were running almost as fast as Grail Beach’s box-shaped vehicles through dark streets and alleys.

  …

  Grail Magistrate Gyrtroodes Mylofort gave up the chase.

  The last thing she wanted was collateral damage to the citizens especially to the citizens in this part of the city.

  Most were good people just struggling to survive with little in the face of an economic system that required they be sacrificed so that the luckier people in the wealthier parts of the city could live in luxury with many.

  She had marked the children with a Skill anyways.

  Although, their demigod nature made it harder than usual to track in her mind’s eye.

  She massaged her wrist.

  The little girl had actually broken skin.

  That hadn’t happened much ever since she had drank from the Grail.

  Shanks in the neck from high level street criminals hadn’t done much more than draw the tiniest drop of blood.

  “Poor stupid kids.”

  It wasn’t their fault.

  Not really.

  Damn eidolons hadn’t said much.

  Not that they ever did.

  She hated that her city couldn’t do much about it unless they wanted the God to come down personally.

  Her Skills had told her that he was actually on planet.

  The governor’s office and every powerful organization had sent the word down to everyone with the levels or power to do something about the stupid game forced on their city.

  Interference was fine, if one could do it with kid gloves.

  Whatever one did, do not kill the demigod kids.

  As for the syarumen?

  What was being done to them hurt her sense of justice.

  Playthings out of a sapient people as if they were wild animals in a game preserve like the ones the wealthy kept outside the city so they could hunt and kill fat, docile animals and mount their heads on walls and brag about their mighty hunting prowess.

  Her listening gem buzzed in her ear.

  “Grail Magistrate, do you hear me?”

  “What is it, station?”

  “The captain commends you on flushing out the quarry.”

  She didn’t like the tone, nor the word usage.

  The captain for this section was one of those wealthy hunters on his leisure time.

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “He suggests you return to your regular duties as we’ve got eyes on them and are driving them right where we want them.”

  “What does that mean exactly, station?”

  “You know Ivy Oaks?”

  “Yes.”

  The residential tower was a squat, ugly box that spread out over two square blocks and crammed about four thousand people in a space built for two thousand.

  Oh, no…

  New owners had bought it a little less than a year ago and were looking to make a profit.

  As always that meant getting rid of the tenants paying low rates on account of the building being old and in a bad area.

  “Gods damned gentrification,” she muttered off comms gem.

  “Funny coincidence. There were reports that some of those monkey men swinging around and throwing their shit all over that place. The captain thinks this will all take care of our problems.”

  “Station… tell the captain and yourselves that if this turns into a massacre of our citizens I shall have a word with each of you before dawn’s light shines over the horizon.”

  She turned the gem off.

  There was a reason she operated semi-independently.

  The station was staffed entirely by people from outside the area.

  They were much better off than the citizens living there.

  That’s how it was for all the poor areas of the citizen.

  The better to keep the poor in their place.

  She had been one of them until she undertook the Grail Quest and succeeded.

  Even with the power and privilege that had granted her it had been a long, fruitless struggle to truly make a difference.

  How could she change the system when those with all the power benefited from it?

  “Even one life saved is worth it.”

  The people living in Ivy Oaks struggled enough without their crappy home being turned into a battlefield.

  The grail magistrate sprinted toward the impending massacre, hoping that she could beat the demigod kids to their destination.

  …

  Ryshellance flicked her tail to the other syarumen in the cell.

  Wait. Listen.

  She hoped her obviously higher level would give her dominance.

  Unfortunately, none of the others were immediately recognizable as coming from her nation. A few, based on their scents, body and tail language, she didn’t recognize as coming from her planet.

  That was the annoying thing about the spires.

  Too many worlds.

  At least one thing was the same, however.

  The bald ones always looked down on her kind as if they were animals.

  “I know you understand me. Don’t bother speaking. I don’t wish to listen to your guttural language.”

  “Tch! Universal Translation System, bitch! You flap your mouth, spewing your guttural tongue at us civilized people!” The syaruman hooted mockery up at one of their jailers.

  The rest of the insults were cut off by a tiny bolt of lightning that set all of Ryshellance’s hair standing.

  As for the speaker?

  He twitched and writhed as the others moved away from the blue arcs dancing up and down his body.

  “Let’s not waste time,” the hairless one said. “You are illegals. We are within our rights to do as we please with you. But, in the interests of cooperation we shall release you.”

  Ryshellance flicked her tail.

  Next speaker. Rip tongue.

  “Why?” she said.

  “It’s beyond your simple comprehension.”

  “You’re slaves to eidolons too.”

  The hairless one’s face twisted.

  “Your people part of the game too. Why not ruin their game with us?”

  “Because— wait! Why am I even conversing with a beastfolk? Listen you monkey man-thing! You have no choices here. Nothing to bargain with. We will release you and you will fight and kill or be killed by those demigod children. The only thing you have to do is keep your battle confined to a specific building. And our superior forces will leave you alone. Set one furry foot outside and I’ll personally throw you on a game preserve so that I can hunt you down like the animals you are.”

  “Not furry. We have hair. Just like the little bit you have left on your head, bald one.”

  Chance. Revenge. Leave these for now.

  She flicked her tail.

  If she couldn’t avenge her home and family on the Gods, then their children would have to be enough.

  Suiteonem Prime, Malali, Dumakule, 213919

  They communicated via sub-vocalization.

  Mouth movements translated into words through the tiny gems in their ears.

  The depths remained silent for they didn’t want to draw the attention of the great monsters lurking in the murky darkness.

  “Investigate quickly. I shall battle the monsters to keep them away,” Miss Karagatan said.

  The potentials acknowledged her words as she sent them rushing down a fast current tunnel of her making.

  Ragay caught glimpses of bioluminescense and shadowy masses moving past until they reached the sealed entrance of the submarine city clinging to a cavern in the side of a deep ocean mountain like an enormous crab in its hole.

  “Hurry it up with the code already!” Tagge eyed the dark ocean.

  Unlike those that could breathe in the ocean, she had to wear an oceansuit that both contained a supply of oxygen and a filtration system that pulled oxygen from the environment.

  Gossamare tapped away.

  For once she wasn’t force to wear a landsuit.

  Her translucent skin glowed dimly with her bioluminescence.

  All this time and Ragay was still mildly disconcerted by the fact that he could vaguely see her internal organs.

  “Keep blocking for her, Sings. Miss Karagatan’s keeping us clear, but one could always slip by,” Keisho said.

  Even a faint glow could be seen from a great distance in the deep dark.

  “Done!” Gossamare said.

  The smaller side door next to the great one slid open.

  Its coral-like texture sent tiny whorls of water swirling in irregular patterns.

  Justavi took point.

  He was the toughest next to Sings Too Loud and like the other airbreathers he had the added protection of an oceansuit.

  The waterlock was large enough to accommodate all seven of them even with Sings Too Loud’s massive bulk.

  They passed through the thicker liquid barrier and emerged into the cold brine on the other side.

  “Clear. Nothing on my sensors,” Justavi said.

  “There should be alarms,” Gossamare said. “Those are automated in case of emergencies. They can’t be turned off unless several people do several things in coordination with each other.”

  “How often do places like this go silent?” Keisho said.

  “Often, but, again there are automated systems that send information. To send nothing for this long requires many people overriding those systems. It’s dangerous in the deep and each settlement relies on those nearby to warn of potential approaching dangers,” Gossamare said.

  “I don’t smell any blood in the water,” Abygale said. “What about you, Ragay?”

  He took a moment to breathe in the cold brine, letting it run through his nostrils and out his gills.

  “Your sense is better than mine, but I concur.”

  “Let’s head to the central control room first. It should tell us what we need to know,” Gossamare said. “And please stop crowding me, Sings, Tagge. I need space to feel the flows.”

  “You’re the leader. We have to keep you safe,” Sings Too Loud whistled.

  “Yup. I don’t think you need a babywatcher, but I got outvoted, so babywatcher I am for this Quest,” Tagge growled.

  “I still think we should split up into three teams to cover more space,” Abygale said.

  “No,” Gossamare said flatly.

  Ragay silently agreed.

  Splitting up was just asking for trouble.

  …

  They swam through empty, silent tunnels, larger chambers meant for gatherings and even one massive chamber filled with empty shops.

  Their communication attempts were met with the same silence.

  “Is it just me or is it quieter in here than it was outside?” Keisho said.

  “Nope. It’s just you and your landborn deafness,” Abygale said.

  “Hey! Don’t tangle all us landborn together,” Tagge scoffed. “Keisho’s probably the only one that can’t hear all the machines and stuff still working.”

  “I’m not the one that needs an oceansuit to breathe down here,” Keisho said.

  Sings Too Loud gestured at the empty shops.

  “Their refrigeration and heating units are still working It’s as if the people just swam out for their breaks or something like that.”

  “Makes it eerie-er.” Tagge shivered. “Give me an enemy I can rip and tear instead of this ghost stuff.”

  “Hush, let’s not leap to conclusions,” Gossamare warned.

  “You’re the leader… for this one.” Tagge muttered the last bit.

  “Then everyone please be silent.”

  Ragay swam the rearguard.

  The enclosed spaces made him feel as if claws or tentacles were always just on the edges of all his senses.

  He kept looking back expecting to see monsters attacking from the shadowed corners, crevices and spaces where intakes and filters kept processing the water like they were supposed to do.

  All the displays and gauges they passed read all systems functioning.

  How long had it been since the last communications from Malali had been received by the closest cities?

  Almost half a year, if he remembered Miss Karagatan’s briefing right.

  City?

  That was what they called it, but to him it would be more accurate to call it a town or even a village.

  A small one of the former or a large of the latter.

  With a population under ten thousand people, that’s what it would be classified as in Sinaya’s Gift.

  His home.

  So far away, both in current distance and time.

  He had crossed the three year mark not that long ago.

  Talima looked so different in the messages.

  A real beauty on the cusp of womanhood, like he was on the cusp of manhood.

  Less than a year and he could start the trials.

  Could he ask Miss Karagatan to let him go home for that? Or would she take the request as him quitting?

  The thrum of the swirling Heart of Sinaya dangling from his hooked staff vibrated all the way down the coral shaft, comforting, soothing.

  He couldn’t give it up so easily or at all.

  It was too important.

  The responsibility too much of an honor to cast aside for selfish reasons, like love and loneliness.

  “I see the blast door to the control room.”

  Justavi’s gravelly voice pulled him back from his mental wandering.

  He glanced behind him and for a moment thought he saw a ripple in the water, but decided it was just a jet from one of the filters on the coral wall.

  “That’s not a good sign. The blast door is only deployed in an emergency,” Gossamare said.

  “Should I punch in the code?”

  “Yes, please, but defensive formation first.”

  They did as Gossamare commanded before Justavi opened the doors.

  Water rushed out of the control chamber like water out of a mouth at a well-timed joke.

  Stale. Uncirculated for a long time. As if the chamber had been completely sealed from the rest of Malali.

  They were ready for anything.

  Expect, perhaps, what they found.

  Nothing.