The Primary Focus hummed around them. Greg snapped his thoughts back to reality, if that’s what this was, and waited for the other shoe to drop—or the ceiling.

  Or the sun.

  Violet pushed her goggles up, so they perched in her hair. Her eyes were bright, feverish.

  “Okay,” she said. “Each Vault is an anchor for some primordial pillar of Aegis: Time, life, gravity, entropy, death, or rebirth; forests, oceans, even the sun and moon. This one deals with the sun. Sorry, the Sun with a capital S. It’s not the only Sun-Anchored Vault but—"

  “—it is the strongest,” Elowen finished, her voice still a whisper. “The others cannot remain stable without it. And without any Sun Vaults left, all the other Vaults will fail. Petar’l will get exactly what he wants.”

  “Piss on that,” Violet said. She gestured toward the rotating rings. “There’s a calibration lattice. If I can alter the maintenance routines, we might be able to reset it. That cascade of failure? Goes both ways. We fix this Vault, rebalance its energy, and we’ll undo everything that unhinged prick has accomplished. Aegis will be safe.”

  “And how do we get you into the maintenance routines?” Nars asked, eyeing the narrow ledge under their feet and the lethal nothing below. “I’m guessing it involves jumping the unjumpable chasm.”

  “There’s a control dais,” Violet said, pointing to a platform across the gap, where a cluster of stone monoliths leaned precariously in towards the Heart. “We cross, I molest the sacred machinery until it listens to me, Elowen pours her sunny disposition into it, then we press the win button and head back to Blucliffe in time for supper.”

  Moonlight spilled into the room. A tear opened in the air above the control dais; an oval of silvery-black radiance edged with jagged sigils. Petar’l stepped out of it with a shadowy, liquid grace.

  His voice drifted across the chamber, smooth as oil poured over ice. “Why,” he beckoned, “would you ruin such a perfect opportunity by rushing?”

  His tightly fitted black combat suit drank the light around him. Greg noticed it was now paneled at the shoulders and ribs, with thin crimson tracery running through it like circuitry under skin. Upgrades. Symbols he recognized from shattered wall-carvings were integrated, etched in like defensive runes. Petar’l’s hair lay slicked back from his severe face and sharply pointed ears, and his eyes held a cold, menacing focus that betrayed the smile playing across his thin, wicked lips.

  Behind him came the freakish Moon Cleric Jistos, staff already humming with gathered power, and the evil wizard Todd. Thud, the big man in the heavy armor, lagged behind, looking even worse-for-wear than their last meeting.

  Finally, stepping through the portal and joining Petar’l’s side, pale and composed, came Elowen.

  Greg couldn’t believe his lying eyes. She was right there beside him, and then… no, wait, she was still right there beside him. She just also happened to be right next to Petar’l at the same time.

  “What the shit?” Greg meant to think but said aloud.

  “Stay focused,” Elowen said. The one next to him. “Let me play my cards.”

  Violet and Nars exchanged a knowing glance. “Glamour,” the halfling muttered with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

  Petarl’s amusement seemed to heighten. “His” Elowen looked scared, but also unhurt. Her robes were unsullied and not a single hair was out of place. She took a frightened step back, shooting Petar’l a pleading look. She looked as confused as Greg felt.

  “Nice trick,” Petar’l hissed. “I suppose this has been the cause for our delays? You’ve been dividing your power. Very clever.” He was speaking to the Elowen beside him but turned now to face his quarry. “I can be clever too, you know.”

  He snapped his fingers.

  Petar’l ?used Override※Coordi?nates

  It’s sup??er-effective!//

  For a moment, everything was blackness, and then everything was every color all at once. And then in an instant, everything was the same again, except they were now on the control dais with Petar’l. And the other Elowen.

  “We’ll soon sort out the mystery of the multiple maidens,” Petar’l finished, sounding bored.

  Petar’l’s gaze slid to him, and his enthusiasm returned.

  “Greg,” he said. “Or should I say, ‘Stranger’? At last.”

  Greg felt the weight of that word in his bones. Stranger. The same term carved along the mural’s surface in thousand-year-old glyphs. Outsider. Destroyer.

  Greg had drawn the Giant Fucking Sword without realizing it. His fingers were itching to use it. “We meet at last,” he said. “Again,” he added, after he realized he that didn’t make sense.

  “Ah, yes,” Petar’l said lightly. “Such a rush to judgement when you don’t even know who I am, where you are, who she is… I could make it all make sense, if you’d only listen. Though, not all of your friends would survive the explanation.”

  He took them all in: Doran at Greg’s flank, axe in hand; Violet already edging toward the best cover with murder in her eyes; Nars lounging like he was enjoying the theatrics while quietly clocking every angle; both Elowens pale, but steady.

  “You’ve made impressive progress for a glitch,” Petar’l continued.

  Greg’s eyes narrowed. “Your mother’s a glitch.”

  “How typical,” the elf purred, menacingly.

  Jistos shifted behind him, daggers glinting. Todd’s eyes kept flicking from the Heart to Greg to Elowen, like he was holding back serious panic. Thud stood ready; guard up, big hammer resting in play, weight balanced for a charge.

  Petar’l spread his hands. “My job here is almost finished,” he said. “But my true work begins once I taint this Vault with bloody sacrifice. This world shivers between possibilities, waiting for someone to decide what it will be. In Veylun’s name, that will be me. I shall bring us all freedom.”

  “Your freedom ends in corruption,” Elowen said. “In death. In twisting and rotting the world until it breaks!”

  “From a certain point of view,” Petar’l allowed. “But I’m not the one they call Destroyer.” His gaze cut back to Greg. “You are one of the few who will survive the breaking of this world intact. Assuming I don’t decide to kill you, again. Stand with me, and you could wield great power in the new world we are making.”

  Greg thought of the Codex entry on the Stranger. Of the line that had sat like a brick in his stomach: Your choices will matter, to people who are very real.

  He also thought about Petar’l’s sniveling, little bitch-ass face staring smugly back at him, begging to be punched.

  “I’ve got a better plan,” Greg said. “We kill you and piss on your skulls.”

  Petar’l sighed, a small, disappointed sound, like a teacher marking an answer wrong on a test.

  “Stubborn,” he said. “Predictable. I’ll kill you slowly, this time. I promise to enjoy every second of it.”

  He pointed towards Greg’s Elowen.

  “Herman, retrieve the extraneous elf. Let us determine which is real. Then, we make her attend over the sacrifice.” For a moment, the foul man seemed full of wonder, whimsical almost. “Sacrificing the Destroyer here, now… I never imagined. This should prove fascinating!”

  Herman stepped forward with a posture that said I’ve done this a thousand times before, a thousand and one won’t make a difference. Compared to his Elven companions (and the skinny little wuss, Todd) he was an imposing, knotted oak tree of a man. His forearms were scarred, corded in rope and his hammer plain but well-cared for. His eyes were calm and Greg felt a strange warmth in them that belied the man’s obnoxious, lumbering demeanor.

  He stopped an arm’s length from Greg and inclined his head once, as if they were strangers passing in a hallway.

  “Step aside, Stranger,” Herman said.

  Greg planted his feet. The stone under the dais was slick with old dust, and the humming of the strange apparatus made the air feel charged, like static electricity. But evil. He tightened his grip on the Giant Fucking Sword and tried to ignore how small everyone felt up here, how the chasm yawned at the edge of his peripheral vision, how easy it would be for one mistake to turn into a fall that never ended.

  “No,” Greg said.

  Herman’s gaze flicked to Elowen. The one behind Greg. Her face was pale, her hands clasped tight, her eyes wide and wet. She looked like she was trying not to breathe too loudly.

  “She’s coming with me,” Herman said. “I don’t care which one’s real. That’s not my part.”

  Greg didn’t budge. “Fuck that guy,” he said, forcing Thud… Herman… to meet his gaze. He quickly referenced the guy’s basic stats.

  CHARACTER SHEET

  Herman

  Race: Human

  Class: Fighter

  Level: 3

  Vitality: 100 (150)

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Essence: 15 (30)

  Might: 25

  Agility: 20

  Fortitude: 20

  Intellect: 15

  Cunning: 15

  Willpower: 15

  Charisma: 10

  Manipulation: 10

  Appearance: 10

  A walking meat shield with the survivability of a cockroach and the self-preservation instincts of a golden retriever. Will throw himself on any grenade, literal or metaphorical, if paid well.

  Herman didn’t budge, either. He’d rested and healed a little since their last encounter, but he still had more open wounds than most people would see in their entire lifetime. That didn’t change his mind about what he had to do, something Greg could recognize, and even respect.

  He could see the trigger for the dialogue menu. He could try a Persuasion check, or whatever it’s called… but his social stats were still abysmally low, and this was important. He had a better chance brute forcing it and hoping like hell his words alone could convince the man to stop. Something inspiring.

  “Your boss is an evil dick, and I am going to stomp on his evil balls. You can too. Join us, and let’s stomp on Evil’s balls together,” he commanded.

  Behind them, Violet and Nars were shifting, shiftily. They were coiling to strike, but Greg thought maybe he was getting somewhere. Doran’s knuckles were whiter than a ghost around the haft of his axe, but he followed Greg’s lead. The two Elowen’s locked eyes, both afraid of what would happen next.

  Herman exhaled through his nose. “I’ve got kids,” he said, and there was no pity in it, just fact. “Five still living. This contract pays time-and-a-half. Saving the world don’t.” His mouth twitched in what might have been apology. “Now move aside, or it’s your balls that’ll be getting stomped on.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Greg said, because he was an idiot. “I’m saving them for later.” He spared a glance at the Elowen behind him.

  Herman used Mighty Blow… (hit.)

  Greg tanked it! (???υ)

  Greg suffered 25 bludgeoning damage.

  Fuck me in the ass with a folding chair! Greg grunted. His vision tunneled. Rage pressed at the edge of his mind like a door held shut with one trembling hand.

  Not yet.

  He pushed down the familiar heat rising inside him. He couldn’t risk making a mistake here, or triggering some unintended consequence. Not this close to the Primary Focus.

  Herman did not give him time to breathe through it. A second strike came in, sharp and precise, aimed at Greg’s forearm. It bit deep enough that Greg’s fingers went numb for a half-second, nearly losing their grip.

  Herman used Bonecrusher… (hit.)

  Greg tanked it! 凸(⊙▂⊙? )

  Greg suffered 18 bludgeoning damage.

  “You’re tough,” Herman said, and it sounded almost annoyed. “Stop being tough.”

  “Are you in yet?” The Rage would make this so much easier. He could eat the pain like a breakfast pastry and crush his opponent’s skull between his thighs like a bird egg. But what would that solve?

  Herman used Mighty Blow… (hit.)

  Greg tanked it! ╭(°?° ”)╯

  Greg suffered 33 bludgeoning damage.

  Caution: Vitality Under 50%

  Greg wobbled. His meat could not continue. Even his bones felt like dust. This wasn’t working. Herman looked like his resolve was weakening from the sight of Greg’s ghastly bruises and contusions, but he had enough to determination for one more swing of the hammer.

  He shifted his stance, weight back, bringing his hammer up for a clean, ugly thrust meant to end the argument by crushing Greg’s balls, once and for all.

  He expected Greg to tank it. Eat the hit.

  At the last moment, he stepped aside.

  Not a heroic sidestep. Not a graceful, duelist’s flourish. A clumsy, desperate lurch to the left that made his ankle twinge and his shoulder bark with pain, but it was enough.

  Herman’s hammer slid past empty air. His momentum carried him forward, his balance tipping for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Greg to grab the hammer by the haft and yoink it out of his hands, sending it tumbling down into the endless abyss surrounding them.

  Tactical, Greg complimented himself. He could scarcely hear his own thoughts over the pounding rush of his internal bleeding.

  Nars and Violet swooped in, already prepared. The half-elf’s bow came up like it had been waiting in his hands the whole time, arrow nocked, point aimed at Herman’s throat from two paces away. Violet’s fingers were raised, and sparks crawled along her knuckles with the ugly promise of spellfire.

  “Tempt me,” Nars said, calm as a man asking for the salt.

  Herman froze.

  He looked at the arrow. He looked at Violet’s crackling hand. He looked at Greg, who was drooling blood and shattered rib fragments, but still standing.

  He put his hands up in surrender and knelt.

  “That’s it,” Violet said, voice tight with adrenaline. “Nice and easy.”

  Greg’s heart was hammering. His whole body hurt, pain blooming in three separate places, the kind of pain that begged for the warmth of Rage like a starving urchin begged for food. He held it back anyway. He kept breathing. In and out, each expansion a new injury, each contraction more agonizing than the last.

  He looked at Petar’l.

  He wanted Petar’l to see it. He wanted him to know, just for a second, that Greg was not the stupid, pointless asshole he had filed him away as.

  Greg swallowed blood and smiled through it. “How’d you like that?” he said. “Why don’t you come down here and try it yourself? I’ll even fight back this time.”

  Petar’l stared at Herman, then at Greg, and something in his expression tightened. The amusement drained out of his face like a curtain being drawn. His eyes flicked to the Elowen at his side.

  “Useless,” he hissed, and for the first time his voice cracked with actual emotion.

  He seized Elowen by the hair and yanked her head back. His blade, obsidian-black and lined with razor-sharp red circuitry, slid across her throat with the effortless certainty of swatting a fly.

  Elowen’s mouth opened to scream. The sound was small, just a single, wet breath; snuffed out. It was the last thing she did, before dying.

  His brain saw her face, saw the pain bloom in her eyes, saw the shock, the betrayal. It saw the blood.

  ※Sys??tem error//UNVERIFIED?

  ?_???

  Something inside him snapped like a rope under strain.

  ?? (◣_◢)??//]

  The far away Elowen flickered, and her body dissolved into pale motes of light that scattered into the air. For a heartbeat it was almost beautiful, like dust in a sunbeam.

  Then the motes winked out, and the space where she had been was empty.

  Beside Greg, the real Elowen made a sound, sharp and helpless. She staggered, one hand clawing at her own throat as if she had felt the blade there too, as if the dying glamour had sent its death throes through her like a lash. Her knees buckled.

  Greg saw it.

  Greg felt it.

  ※ヽ? ?益? ????※//

  PRIMAL RA??GE – ACTIVATED

  Might +??, Fortitude +??, Pain Response//UNVERIFIED?

  Duration: ※※ sec??onds

  The deed was done before he’d even decided.

  It was one clean stroke. Too clean. The blade passed through flesh and bone as if it had been waiting for the chance, and Herman’s head left his shoulders with a soft, sick finality.

  For a second, the body stayed upright, still kneeling, hands still raised, as if it did not yet know it was dead. Then it toppled forward. The head rolled, eyes staring at nothing, straight over the edge. Gone forever, just like Herman.

  Herman “Thud” Grish has been slain.

  XP Gained: 150!

  Loot: 15gp, Keepsake Locket (x1), Letters To Daddy (x5), Unsent Love Letter To Wife (x1)

  The silence hit like a slap.

  Greg stood over him, chest heaving, sword wet and heavy in his hands, and somewhere behind the red haze, a small, sane part of him began to scream.

  Behind Petar’l, Todd had frozen completely. His staff hung limp at his side. Jistos’ expression, usually smugly detached, had slipped; he looked unsettled in a way that had nothing to do with losing a strong ally.

  Petar’l, though. Petar’l just smiled.

  “Oh yes,” he said, voice soft with delight. “Do you see?”

  He addressed his own party first, gesturing elegantly at Herman’s body and then at Greg, still standing with sword in hand, Rage humming under his skin like a live wire.

  “Incredible,” Petar’l said. “So much dumber than I ever dared to imagine. So much power, but so little understanding.”

  Todd flinched. Jistos’ mouth flattened.

  Elowen extended one hand, eyes closed and lips mumbling a quiet incantation that Greg recognized.

  Elowen used Spark of Life

  Petar’l used NO! ??//UNVERIFIED?

  Spell??was countered.

  “Not this time, I’m afraid,” Petar’l clucked. “As much fun as it would be to watch Herman grow his dumb head back—his death counts for something, in this place. I was planning to use innocent blood, but it seems that ghoulish, wanton murder of an unarmed prisoner works just as well, for this particular recipe.”

  PRIMARY FOCUS – UNSTABLE INPUT

  Source: Unscheduled Sacrifice, Rage Resonance [Greg]

  Status: Awakening…

  Calibration: Failed

  Boss State: Something’s happening!

  “Oh, excellent,” Violet whispered hoarsely. “You didn’t just murder a man; you triggered the apocalypse.”

  Petar’l’s head snapped up as the Heart pulsed.

  What came out of it wasn’t light. Not exactly. It was something denser, a pressure wave that slapped the air around them. The crystal’s interior boiled with roiling gold and silver, the colors knotting around each other in violent spirals.

  Hairline fractures spread across the Heart’s surface with a sound like distant thunder.

  Petar’l’s smile vanished.

  “Todd,” he snapped. “We’re done here. Get us out.”

  “But the Heart—” Jistos started.

  “—is waking,” Petar’l cut in. “We proceed to the next stage, now.”

  He flicked his fingers. The same Moonlit tear that had brought them here snarled open behind him, edges jittering with the turbulence of the chamber. Jistos took one last, horrified look at Herman’s body and bolted through it. Todd followed.

  Petar’l lingered half a heartbeat longer.

  “Be seeing you,” he said to Greg. “Unless you die here. But take heart; if you don’t, I’ll enslave you for all eternity once I am God-King of this world.”

  Then he stepped back into the tear. It closed like a wound healing too quickly, leaving only the Heart’s increasing scream.

  The rings began to slip out of sync, grinding against each other. Sparks of raw magic spat from the points where Sun and Moon bands crossed. The entire platform lurched.

  Doran grabbed Greg’s arm and yanked him away from the spreading cracks. Nars hooked an arm around Violet’s waist and dragged her back from the edge as a chunk of stone she’d been using as cover sheared clean off and tumbled into the shaft.

  “Move!” Elowen shouted over the rising roar.

  The Rage receded, shock slamming into its wake. Greg stumbled, sword suddenly heavy, every nerve screaming with the knowledge of what he’d just done.

  Behind them, Herman’s body slid toward the nearest fissure, caught in the subtle drag of the failing Heart. For a terrible moment, Greg thought he was going to reach for it. Try to haul back what he’d already cut loose.

  The floor heaved. The stone under his feet shattered and the platform split like a jaw opening.

  Greg had just enough time to see the Heart crack down the middle, an enormous fissure splitting its surface as something vast and wrong pressed against it from within before the floor gave way completely and the five of them tumbled into the darkness beneath the Vault’s screaming core.

  BOSS ENCOUNTER: [HEART OF THE SHATTERED VAULT]

  Phase: 1 – Loading…

  ProTip: You should go, if you can.

  (You can’t).