Once he was sure he couldn’t find them, though, Terrel did his duty. The results might be unpleasant, but he was sworn to his god, and he would always obey.

  It was then that the portal opened.

  It stabilized with a sound like a bubble popping. White-gold geometry unfolded in precise angles across the floor of the keep’s inner sanctum, runes flaring as law asserted itself over space. Terrel felt the pressure immediately, a familiar weight magnified to the point that breathing required conscious effort. He straightened anyway, spine rigid, hands clasped behind his back.

  They came through in disciplined order. Inquisitors first, twenty of them. Their black leather armor mirrored his, but it wasn’t lost upon him that their leader was the famed Drivnor Kalen. Rumor had it he was already level 450, and alone was more powerful than the rest of the Order’s forces on Aerth prior to this moment.

  Dreadnoughts followed, sixty massive figures whose reinforced forms bent the air around them, divine power anchored deep into their frames. Each footfall rang with finality, as though the floor acknowledged their authority. As an Inquisitor, Terrel was good at rapidly assessing others. He immediately felt the weight of their unified aura. Not a single one of them was under level 250, and most of them were probably closer to 350, with a couple over 400.

  Light Seers emerged next, two hooded figures wreathed in a constant radiance so bright that it hurt the eyes to look at them directly. Their eyes glowed with steady intensity, sweeping the chamber and cataloging everything within it. They were both level 400, and half-mad, as were all Light Seers. What else could one expect when one’s mind communed directly with the Lawgiver to see visions of the future?

  Behind them came the Law Wardens, eight living bulwarks etched with sigils meant to anchor and enforce Order magic. Dreadnoughts were far more common and were always thought of as the unbreakable part of the Order, the raw physical might of their forces, but the Law Wardens showed the myth of that. They might lack in offensive capability, but each was wrapped in armor that moved with them like flesh and made them impervious to almost any weapon.

  Last drifted the Truth Flames, ten men and women suspended in the air by weaves of holy fire. They were mages like the Lawspeakers, but specialized in detecting the truth. They could wield all elemental powers, but their proclivities tended toward fire, as their name suggested. Fire was good for burning away the chaff, and they were the spark that created it.

  This was far too much. Even as the count completed itself in his mind, shock cut through his discipline. Aerth did not warrant this kind of response. Not for a handful of vanished operatives. Not for a world this weak.

  Then the portal flared once more.

  Arbiter Kalix stepped through alone, and the portal sealed behind him as though it had never existed. He was not enormous, nor grotesque, nor overtly monstrous. He was simply perfect, a figure molded by the authority of the divine, every line of him suggesting inevitability. His aura washed over the chamber in a crushing wave, and Terrel’s knees nearly buckled before he forced them to lock.

  He’d been in front of Kalix before. Everyone always thought that they could adapt to being in the presence of an ascendant, and perhaps if he were not imbued with the direct blessing of the Lawgiver that might be true, but he was an ascendant of the Order. That meant he was the hand of god.

  Suddenly, Terrel realized what was happening. It was going to be as bad as he imagined. This force wasn’t here for an inspection. He was about to be judged and then… well, then, he didn’t know.

  “Report,” Kalix said.

  The word carried no excess of volume, yet it filled the chamber completely. Terrel spoke immediately, voice precise, measured, and utterly devoid of embellishment. He detailed the disappearance of the Dreadnoughts, the Lawspeakers, and the Lawkeepers. He spoke of the warehouse district, of faint traces of Order magic, of the complete lack of evidence pointing toward betrayal. He did not speculate beyond what he knew.

  As he spoke, the Truth Flames ignited.

  Holy fire engulfed him, not consuming flesh but scouring it clean, burning away pretense and resistance. Pain lanced through every nerve, white-hot and absolute, and Terrel clenched his jaw to keep from crying out. Light Seers stepped closer, their radiance piercing into memory and intent, tearing through thought after thought with merciless clarity. Inquisitors watched without movement, witnesses rather than participants.

  Terrel endured. He wouldn’t lie. He couldn’t.

  Time lost meaning in the flames, each second stretching into agony. Finally, movement broke the stillness. “He speaks the full truth as he knows it,” Drivnor said. “No treachery detected.”

  Kalix raised a hand.

  The flames vanished instantly. The pain ceased as though it had never existed, leaving Terrel gasping on the stone, body shaking, armor scorched and spirit laid bare. He forced himself upright and dropped to one knee, head bowed.

  “So only incompetent,” Kalix said calmly, “not treacherous.”

  The words cut deeper than the fire had.

  “You will be given one more chance to prove you deserve the spark within you,” Kalix continued. “Do not waste it.”

  Terrel pressed his forehead to the floor in acknowledgment. Above him, Kalix turned his gaze outward, beyond the walls of the keep, toward a world that had just become far more interesting.

  Back on the main human continent, a woman sat at a table in one of the finest restaurants in this hovel of a world. It was barely palatable to one such as her, but then again, she wasn’t a human. She was a fey. And not just any fey, but a princess of the Summer Court. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt the shift of pressure on Aerth.

  Her thoughts raced. “An ascendant.”

  Suddenly, her task to bring back her nephew had become so much more real. No longer was it a game. There was now someone on Aerth who might be able to harm her. She doubted that whichever Arbiter it was who had been sent was as powerful as she was, but Allanna preferred to think of herself as a lover, not a fighter.

  This changed everything. She would have to be so much more careful.

  Selena didn’t linger after Silas and Samvek left, even if she had acted like she was still sleepy. She felt the shift the moment they were gone, the absence of their combined presence like a pressure release that left too much space behind. She rolled her shoulders once, grounding herself, then went looking for Fara. She found her exactly where she expected her to be—watching, waiting, already thinking three moves ahead. Selena found herself liking the lizard woman. She, of course, could see through the illusions, but she knew the value of blending in.

  “I’m heading to the dungeon,” Selena said without preamble. “You need levels, and I don’t feel like waiting around.” There was no challenge in her tone, just a statement of fact.

  Fara studied her for a heartbeat, golden eyes narrowing, then nodded. “Good. I can’t protect Tad if I fall too far behind. I know he’s always going to be ahead of me, but I don’t want to be helpless.”

  Selena nodded in silence. She understood the sentiment.

  The guild was awake and busy, but they passed through it with minimal friction. Selena felt the eyes on her as they approached the counter. Those who were already up this morning wanted to know who she was. Newcomers were always examined. It was the same back home. They secured a stone keyed to the lower nineties along with Selena’s new silver tag. The special marking from the guild master apparently opened doors.

  They didn’t bother hiding themselves when the dungeon took them. Selena stood tall, purple skin faintly luminous in the low light, dark hair pulled back so it wouldn’t interfere. Fara moved with practiced ease beside her, scaled armor fitted close, daggers resting where her hands could find them without thought. There was no fear in either of them, only anticipation.

  “I know that I’m still me whether hiding or not, but I still feel better inside my own skin,” Selena said.

  Fara sniffed at the air as though unsure of Selena’s intent. Selena realized it must have been a bold step for her to follow a stranger this deep into the dungeon. Fara wasn’t quite level one hundred yet, after all. Finally, Fara responded. “Agreed. You aren’t bothered by what I am?”

  “Not if you aren’t bothered by me. Have you ever seen purple people before?”

  “Can’t say that I have, but before Tad came to my world, I’d only ever seen my own kind. I don’t know if your purple skin is like my white scales or not, but I was an outcast back home until Tad made a place for me.”

  “Where I was born, my entire planet was filled with people who look like me, but I understand what it is to be on the outside. I can tell that you love Tad.”

  “Yes, but not as you might imagine it. He’s that little brother who is precious to me and who I want to protect, but there’s nothing romantic between the two of us. There hasn’t been time to consider such things. I gather you and Silas are mates, though.”

  “Something like that, but it’s brand new. We’re both learning how it works.”

  As the floor resolved around them, Fara glanced sideways. “So,” she said lightly, “is Silas really as ridiculous as Tad says?”

  Selena’s lips curved despite herself. “Yes,” she replied. “And before you ask, he’s worse when he’s trying to be helpful.”

  Fara huffed a quiet laugh and adjusted her grip. “Figures. Tad’s the same. Does impossible things, then acts surprised when the world breaks a little.” Selena felt that familiar pull of protectiveness tighten in her chest, sharp and instinctive. “They mean well,” she said. “That doesn’t stop them from being dangerous.”

  The dungeon stirred ahead of them, monsters already moving. Selena let reality mana slip loose just enough to feel the shape of the space, bending angles and distances until the path forward was exactly what she wanted it to be. She glanced at Fara one last time. “Stay close,” she said. “I’ll make you openings. You take them.”

  Fara’s grin was all teeth. “Always.”

  The first wave hit hard and fast, monsters boiling out of shadowed corridors in a rush of claws, chitin, and too many eyes. Selena stepped forward and the space between her and the enemy folded, angles bending until the lead creature overextended by a full stride. Fara was already moving, daggers flashing as she slid into the opening Selena had created, blades punching into joints and soft seams with lethal precision. The kill was clean, fast, and efficient, exactly what Selena had intended.

  The purpose of this incursion was to help Fara become stronger, and by extension, Tad. She knew Silas well enough to know that was what he wanted. But Selena had grown up in House Turga. She didn’t believe in help without strings attached. So if she was going to work with these people, it would be because she trusted them, and there was no better place to see who a person really was than in the middle of battle.

  She didn’t attack directly after that. Instead, she contorted the battlefield, shortening distances for Fara while stretching them for everything else. Enemies stumbled mid-charge as the ground betrayed them, feet landing a fraction too far or too short. Fara flowed through the chaos like water through cracks, every illusion and feint amplified by the environment conspiring in her favor.

  They cleared the first chamber in under a minute, and the XP came pouring in for Fara. Clay had needed to share XP with three legendary tiers, but she only had to split it with Selena. The killing might not be quite as fast, but it was fast enough, and it was giving Selena a chance to gauge what Fara was capable of. So far, she was impressed.

  The next few floors blurred together, each one a variation on the last. Packs of scaled predators, insectile horrors, and mana-warped beasts rushed them in predictable patterns. Selena read the flows of the dungeon and adjusted reality just enough to turn those patterns against themselves. Walls narrowed, ceilings dipped, and lines of attack collapsed into fatal funnels. Fara took every opening, striking harder and faster as her confidence built with each kill.

  Selena watched the change happen in real time. Fara’s movements sharpened, hesitation burning away as her instincts caught up with her growing strength. Her illusions grew more convincing, shadows clinging to her form as if eager to help. When a heavier monster lunged at her, Fara stepped inside its reach, daggers crossing as she severed tendons and slid past the collapsing bulk without breaking stride.

  “That one felt different,” Fara said between breaths, eyes bright.

  Selena smiled faintly. “You’re getting stronger.”

  They pushed deeper, floors peeling away beneath their feet as Selena accelerated the pace. Boss chambers fell just as quickly, Selena pinning massive threats in distorted pockets of space while Fara dismantled them piece by piece. The dungeon tried to adapt, throwing mixed packs and layered ambushes, but it wasn’t enough. Selena wasn’t there to be tested. She was there to teach.

  Somewhere past the hundredth floor, Fara paused mid-fight, surprise flashing across her face as another enemy dropped. “I just crossed it,” she said. “Level one hundred.”

  Selena frowned slightly, still shaping the field. “Did you solo a boss?”

  “No,” Fara said slowly. “I didn’t have to.”

  That made Selena hesitate for half a heartbeat. The pause was enough for a monster to almost land a blow, but reality twisted and the strike slid past harmlessly. Selena dispatched it with a sharp distortion that left the creature exposed, and Fara finished it without comment.

  “That wasn’t how it worked with Clay,” Selena said after the room fell silent.

  Fara shrugged, wiping a blade clean. “What do you mean?”

  “He told us he’d been stuck at level 100 for a couple of decades because he couldn’t advance without soloing a level 101 or higher monster. So why didn’t you have to?”

  “Maybe because I’m not from this world. From what I’ve seen so far, the people on this world are weak. The elders of our cities could wipe most of them out, and that’s not even to say anything about our champions.”

  Selena filed that away, another assumption quietly dismantled.

  They moved faster after that, clearing floor after floor in a relentless rhythm. Thirty levels passed in a blur of blood, mana, and shattered monsters. Fara’s aura deepened, her presence carrying more weight with every engagement. By the time they finally paused, the dungeon around them had gone quiet, as if deciding whether it wanted to continue offering resistance.

  Throughout it all, they talked, feeling one another out. Selena was savvy enough to know that she was being interrogated. That was fine. Allies needed to know one another. And despite them having known each other for such a short time, Selena found herself liking Fara. They spent the entire day inside the dungeon, eventually bringing the lizard woman to level 150, at which point she, too, reached a hard cap just like Clay had. It would be interesting to see if Tad could figure out how to awaken his allies. If not, Selena expected that Silas would find a way to help.

  Far across the multiverse in an entirely different system, not quite to the frontier but closer than the Fey System, another of Silas’ allies thought about his next course of action. Ryan needed help, but he wasn’t sure he was going to get it.

  The camp never truly slept. It only breathed more quietly when the children finally did, the wilderness around them settling into a tense, watchful stillness that Ryan had learned not to trust. He stood at the edge of the perimeter, axe resting against his shoulder, eyes scanning a tree line that had already betrayed them twice in the last three days. The Divided Realms were vast, beautiful in places, and utterly unforgiving when they sensed weakness.

  Or when Primus was hunting you.

  They’d chosen this place because it offered cover without trapping them in, and it still had fresh water. The cultivators at A-rank and above could ignore physical needs entirely, but all of his planning centered first and foremost around protecting the children. A few of them were his, but his growing clan had many young families. Besides the children, he had to consider the needs and limitations of both the lesser cultivators and the People of the Land who were with them—that was the cultivator term for any humans who couldn’t cultivate. Many would have abandoned them, but to Ryan, they were as much a part of the clan as anyone else.

  Jagged stone outcroppings rose around them like broken teeth, and thick-rooted trees twisted together overhead, their canopies woven with glyph work Amaya had laid down with tireless precision. Ryan thought of her fondly, his only wife who had come from the People of the Land. She could cultivate now, thanks to his gift to her, but she and her people were the key reason that they had any comforts, let alone luxuries, out in this wilderness.

  Those glyphs hummed softly now, a layered lattice of warning, concealment, and reinforcement that turned the clearing into something just shy of a fortress. Eluanshi’s work anchored it all, a masterwork of magma and earth mana sunk deep into the ground so the land would resist intrusion. Thinking about it brought a smile to Ryan’s face. The way his wives worked together made him proud.

  At the center of the camp, life went on despite their situation. Infants and toddlers slept wrapped in layers of warded cloth, tiny chests rising and falling in rhythms Ryan found himself counting without realizing it. Lumina sat near them, wings folded tight, her presence a constant well of calm that soothed frayed nerves and restless dreams. Her light was more than physical. Even now, with exhaustion etched into every line of her posture, that light never dimmed.

  Ryan felt the strain in his own bones. Not from the injury or fatigue that was always the price paid for battles, but something deeper—a constant readiness that never fully shut off, a pressure that built with every new world they fled to and every new portal that followed them there. It was one thing to have to fight for his life. He’d been doing that ever since a disease stole his childhood. But having to protect others, especially his wives and children, took a different emotional toll.

  Primus wasn’t relentless in the way a beast was relentless. He was methodical. Corrective. Each attack was calibrated to test, to probe, to adjust. The only good news was that according to Ryan’s sources, Primus was unable to leave the source pool at the center of the Modron Peak.