"It went exactly as you said," said the man in the straw hat. "The scan showed an unusual amount of aura activity in Zone 18—on our doorstep. I dropped by to check. And it was hiding right there, in plain sight."
He took a sip of tea.
"Strong senses, strong cloaking. It felt me coming, and decided it wanted to try me. We exchanged one move."
His scarred lips quirked a little, exposing the needle-blade. It flashed in the lamplight.
"After that… it realized who it was dealing with."
He took another sip.
"It had good reactions—I'll give it that. A slippery one, that. I went for the heart, but it shifted its organs last-second."
"I felt that," said Noughtfire. He'd been doing calligraphy when he felt the disturbance, far-off. "Sloppy. I trained you better."
The man in the straw hat had a peculiar fighting style—something no other fighter of his caliber could replicate. When he struck, it was so fast and so clean reality itself wouldn't know it'd been sliced, not at first. He left no ripples in still water.
The man spread his hands in exasperation. "That wasn't me, breaking the fabric," he rasped. "It was the damned beast's blood. What I meant to do—stop it from spilling?"
Noughtfire shrugged. "It merely seems to me you're rusting, out there on the frontier."
"If I'm rusting, what are you? You were rusted before the invention of steel!"
Silence.
They stared each other down for a few seconds. If Burnwater were here he would've gone quite pale. No-one spoke to Master Noughtfire that way.
No-one except his first disciple.
The man in the straw hat broke first—smiling. Then Noughtfire showed a hint of a mile. The man chuckled.
"It's good to see you again, Master."
Noughtfire poured another cup.
"Describe it to me."
"Goloog the Living Bog. Half-step Empyrean." The man in the straw hat paused. "Nasty piece of work. A Monster King, one of Malzareth's enforcers. It seeps through the cracks of the world, out of sight. Hard to find if you don't know what you're looking for. I would've liked to kill it then and there…"
He closed his eyes and shrugged. "Pity."
He took the needle out of his mouth and started rolling it around his fingers absently, staring off into the empty space outside the windows, watching something in the far distance.
That tiny blade was still devilishly sharp at the edges. So sharp it could even wound Empyreans at the slightest touch. But though it spun and twirled and whirled around the man's fingers its edges and point never met his flesh—not once.
Noughtfire absorbed all that, thinking quietly.
"Tell me," said the man in the straw hat. "How did you know it was there?"
"A hunch."
"A simple hunch?" His lips quirked again. "Has the all-knowing Noughtfire, paragon of reason, been forced to resort to gut feeling?"
"'Simple?'" Noughtfire snorted. "When one attempts to parse an infinite and chaotic world, the conscious mind is insufficient to the task. Some connections are better made by intuition. I knew, but I did not know what I knew. Sometimes, that must be enough."
The man in the straw hat just grunted.
"The question is," said Noughtfire. "Why send such a valuable asset after Zane? So brazenly, and so close to Azure Flame territory?"
"Clearly they were simply trying to get rid of him early. Before he could grow."
"Yet in Malzareth's eyes, it must be some time yet before Zane poses a threat. Cultivation is a graveyard of geniuses; all too many fall before they reach the peak. And a half-step Empyrean Monster King is a serious asset. To deploy one this early, this riskily?"
The man in the straw hat considered this.
"Perhaps," he said slowly. "This Malzareth knows something about your disciple you don't."
Noughtfire considered this in silence.
Then the man in the straw hat yawned and popped the needle back between his teeth. "I'm off to bum some wine off Burnwater," he said, yawning. "Then it's back off to the frontier."
"You've just arrived."
"It's growing rowdy out there, with all these breakouts." He shrugged. "Someone needs to keep the hordes at bay."
He headed off.
Noughtfire thought some more, then began writing a letter. He held it between two fingers, and it vanished in a flash of white flame. Sent.
Then he looked out into the chaos of space in silence, eyes narrowed.
***
Zane spent a pleasant morning lounging in bed with Reina sleeping gently on his chest, feeling the sunlight. Before him were floor-to-wall windows offering end-to-end views of the bustling Luminous Faction.
Smoke was puffing from dozens of little chimneys, far below, from skyscrapers and cottages alike. Little blimps drifted in the distance, far-off, arrays scribed on the balloons.
It was nice to rest up a bit.
He'd gotten notices from Evan and Avery. Evan was still working on breaking through to the fifth tier. Avery spent about five hours of her day munching as many essence sweets as she could, and the rest passed out in a food coma.
Later that day Reina gave him a tour of one of her elixir factories, spun up in record time. She was quite proud of it.
They looked down from the upper walkway over thirty floors of clean-wood and glass. There was a simple beauty to the place—not dry and mechanical, like factories in the old world. Wide shafts of gold came down through the skylights, and vines and wood hewed the place together. It was all quite thoughtfully made—it clearly came right out of her head.
***
Back on Earth, he ran into a few more familiar faces. Reina pointed out a line in the distance, out in the middle of the Pacific, breaching the clouds. A space elevator.
It was Emeka Eze's project, she said.
They headed out on a boat, docking on the platform at its base.
Eze was on the upper observatory with a raft of Deep Earth Hall Minor Gods. They stood in low orbit.
They met when he came down.
He'd gotten up to Level 488, with Tier 5 Laws to boot. He wore obsidian robes studded with purple gems.
"Zane Walker," said Eze. He smiled. "What an unexpected pleasure."
He gave Zane a firm hand-shake.
He filled Zane in on a few of the goings-on in his life. He'd been made an Inner Faction Chosen of the Deep Earth Hall, and been selected as a disciple of the Patriarch himself. He'd burst into the Top 40 of the Rising Dragon rankings.
He'd also amassed a legendary reputation as a duelist, undefeated even against Minor Gods. Zane was still the only man who'd ever matched him one-on-one, and stood back up after eating a Touch of Death point-blank.
Eze's new status afforded him new resources. He'd gotten the Patriarch to grant him a bunch of the Deep Earth Hall's best builders. He intended to make barricades to shield earth as a last line of defense. A sphere of obsidian would blanket the planet if the Monster Wave got within striking range.
"Although…" he gave Zane a look. "I intend to make sure it does not come to that."
Zane agreed.
Eze planned on breaking through to Minor God soon, and enter seclusion to gather as many Tier 5 Concepts as he could. They likely wouldn't meet again until Earth's Pre-War Congress in a few years.
***
More faces he knew popped up on their wide-screen scrying glass as he relaxed with Reina one night.
"The Monsters are coming," said newscaster Tyler. "But fear not, people of Earth—we'll be ready for them. We're getting ready to fight back in ways big and small."
"That's right," said Becca. "You mostly hear about what Zane's been up to. But in today's segment we're here to highlight a few lesser-known World-Rankers doing their part. For instance—Great Britain's own #2 fighter, Cain Hastings!"
The scene shifted.
There was a muscular, middle-aged blond man with a spiffy mustache, arms crossed, standing on tatami mats. Before him, spread out in two long rows, were a huddle of little kids in martial arts uniforms, white belts tied around waists.
"Focus the essence on your knuckles. That's right—make certain it's all in there. Wind it back. And when you're ready… let it fly!" he roared.
"Hiyaaaa!" shouted the kids. Essence splashed everywhere.
He nodded on in approval.
"Cain finds time in his busy life as an Azure Flame disciple to come back every weekend, just to teach the kids class at his old family dojo," Tyler said. "He's keeping spirits up out there."
"That's just lovely, isn't it?" beamed Becca. "It's another reminder to the folks out there. You might not be a Vanessa or a Zane. But even if you can't hold back a Monster Prince with your bare hands, you can help volunteer at your local scryer's guild branch, helping monitor for dungeon-breaks. Every bit matters. We're all in this together!"
***
He and Reina knew he could be out there for a few months, so they made the most of the night before.
𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕦𝕡!
𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕦𝕡!
𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟜𝟟𝟟 -> 𝟜𝟟𝟡
She saw him off the next morning at the teleporters, nibbling a lip. "Don't you dare let one of those Desolate Wilderness beasts get the better of you," she told him.
He could tell she was a bit worried, but she kept up a brave face. She crossed her arms and raised her chin, looking every bit a queen. "If you don't come back in one piece, I'll be very upset with you," she declared.
At some point she realized she could be quite scary. She seemed to be trying to use it to her advantage.
…It worked pretty well on Zane, to be fair.
He blinked and nodded quickly. "I will."
Then she softened and smiled.
"Good," she said. She gave him one last kiss, and he was off.
***
A few minutes later the teleporters deposited him at the Plaza of Titans.